Raging GRACEFULLY

Zali Ismail, Alvin Loy and Wilson Tan-a group of vintage clothing store owners three generations apart-talk about style as a means of contrarian self-expression within the subcultures of metal and punk.

- CARMEN SIN

Every first weekend of the month, a white tent pops up at the concourse of Katong Square. Its hours are unpredictable, subject to the whims of its eccentric proprietor—Zali Ismail, 58, avowed metalhead and devilishly stylish elder. It houses Zali’s travelling vintage clothing store, genially named Peacencheers. Established in 2000, the stall has become a fixture at the monthly Katong flea market, known officially as The Retro Factory, and is conspicuous among its tchotchkes and crystals as a temple of metal and grunge.

Aside from Delphic opening hours, customers know to expect a booming stereo and distinctive wares of unusual denim, band T-shirts, boots and the occasional leather. His idiosyncratic, ’70s-inflected garb—leather vest and flared pants—has made him something of a local celebrity and he is still bemused whenever someone asks for a picture. “I don’t understand why also, I just wear what I feel like,” he says, with a blushing shake of the head, though he is more than happy to headbang with willing customers.

Invariably, he is joined at these popups by old friends who faithfully come to visit, other men of his age kitted out in black band T-shirts. By now, the sight of a group of men sitting in a ring of beach chairs near Zali’s tent, laughing and smoking without compunction as the market winds down, is a familiar tableau. Somehow, in one of the country’s most gentrified neighbourhoods, Zali’s tent has become the last outpost of a dying local subculture: metal.