Be Fabulous Always: Remembering Laichan Goh (October 1962 - April 2025)
- HO Seng Chee
- 2 days ago
- 4 min read
Updated: 8 hours ago
It all began with my wife’s wedding dress. It was 1995, and Laichan was already a revered name among Singapore’s most glamorous. Yet there he was, sitting patiently with us, a young couple with nothing much to our names.
We chatted, almost aimlessly. He smiled, sketched, listened. From his fingertips, a dress began to emerge — not just form and shape, but a reflection of who we were and what we wanted to become. That one gown led to a few more pieces, until Laichan had lovingly dressed all the leading ladies in our wedding party.
As he drew, stitched and pinned, what he really clothed was something deeper: our joy, our excitement, our beginning. This was what made Laichan special. He didn’t just make dresses. He saw people. Really saw them. And in doing so, he helped them see the beauty and dignity they carried within. To be dressed by Laichan was to be seen, wholly and tenderly, and to realise that you were, in fact, already beautiful.
Over time, Laichan became family to us. For every life milestone — important birthdays, graduations, family weddings — he was there, celebrating with us through his creations for my wife and, later, our daughters. He always brought out the quiet grace in the women he clothed. Importantly, he was never jealous with his designs and playfully encouraged our daughters to accessorise and make his pieces their own. Can’t imagine pairing a Laichan qipao with a pair of Doc Martens? Well, that’s exactly what our eldest child did, and with Uncle Laichan’s wholehearted endorsement.
Laichan had an uncanny way of connecting with the soul of whoever sat before him. He listened not just with his ears but with his heart. His questions were gentle, his laughter easy, his silences full of understanding. He could sense your dreams, your insecurities, your secret hopes. Through the simple but profound language of cloth and cut, he would reflect them back to you in ways that made you stand taller.
He had exacting standards, yes. His fittings could be meticulous. But it was never about his ego. Rather, he cared about the dress wearer’s dignity. He believed deeply that the dress should serve the person, and not the other way around. A story he once told us says it all. He had made a breathtaking gown for a young bride. A wedding guest loved it immensely and requested him to make a copy for her. Laichan refused. “You cannot wear that dress,” he said gently, “because it is not you.” For him, each creation was a quiet portrait of the person it adorned. It could not be duplicated at will.
I was also told another story about a family friend in her sixties who had gone to Laichan to be dressed for a special event. Laichan surprised her by suggesting a qipao in baby pink. She hesitated, instinctively reaching for the “safer” maroons and emeralds that were on the display rack. Yet, after trying them all, she returned to the pink. When she saw herself for the second time in the mirror, radiant and vibrant, she understood. All the while, Laichan had already seen the light inside her that was ready to shine.
That ability to draw out a person’s beauty and dignity was not just his artistry. It was his leadership superpower no less. Without grand speeches or declarations, he showed us all how to see, to honour, and to bring out the best in other people. And he used that same superpower to build a team and a fashion business that have thrived for over four decades. He was also a staunch supporter of young talent who, inspired by his modernisation of the qipao, created their own interpretations of that classic. He spoke well of all of them and exhorted everyone to uphold the high standards he demanded of himself.
Laichan’s leadership magic was rooted in something far deeper than technical mastery, but fundamentally simple and pure. It was love — for people, for their histories, for the quiet, often unnoticed beauty within every human being. It is the kind of love that Laichan’s deep Christian faith advocated. Whether you were a celebrity or a schoolteacher, a society doyenne or a shy bride, it made no difference to him. Everyone deserved to feel beautiful, and he had the rare grace to lead them to that beauty. In every dress he made, he stitched a bit of God’s love into the world.
At his funeral, the measure of Laichan’s life was plain to see. He came from a large family of 15 siblings, and there were over 30 family members at his side when he took his last breath. His beloved family eulogised him not as a famous designer, but as the brother who loved, the uncle who doted, and the granduncle who cuddled. In every relationship, he poured out the same quiet, steadfast love.
Laichan may have laid down his needle and thread, but he has left behind something indelible. And that is the inner grace he uncovered in all of us, still shining, still growing. He showed us that beauty is not something we wear, but something we live, and that to be truly seen is one of life’s greatest blessings.
As Laichan often said, with that mischievous glint in his eye: “Be Fabulous Always.”
And thanks to him, we will be.
