It’s no secret that Deepak and I love Asian food. We’re both from the continent (or subcontinent) in some way, and our adventurous palates and spice preferences dovetail neatly — until my capsaicin yen shoots straight into the stratosphere, of course.
It’s only fitting that we met at a Japanese restaurant and had our first date at a Korean restaurant. Since then, we’ve sought pungent eats and spicy treats all across L.A., and beyond that, to their very places of origin.
Citing our unfamiliarity with the place and unknowable social conditions, Deepak forced me to wear this highly androgynous getup as we trudged the streets of Vietnam. It’s only because I find the resulting photos hilarious (and because I was raised not to be vain) that I’m splashing these pics of myself going en travestie — à la Cherubino in “The Marriage of Figaro” — through the streets of Southeast Asia.