Crown St Blues.

For anybody who spent any time in Sydney in the early to mid 90s, a regular trip to the Remo store in Crown Street was an essential part of the Emerald City experience. Quirky items, self-designed and from suppliers around the world, ensured that it was impossible to leave the store without making some sort of purchase. Remo had style, imagination, creativity, and its very existence seemed to say that you could do good things and make money.

Except, apparently, you couldn't. Because, as a result of forces that I will never understand, Remo had to close in 1996. Its closure was a shock, and a blow, and left a taste that all was not right with the world.

Now, however, I can happily report that Remo is back. In an online form, which is kind of even better than the real-world version, because now you don't have to go to Sydney to see it. The website is just as much fun as the store ever was, with hundreds of items and a process that makes navigation enjoyable.

Despite being a relatively small company, Remo understands what it takes to build an attractive brand. There's so much depth to the entity, and so many interesting, quirky things: and people are so keen to be associated with it.

I just received in the mail a copy of Remo's first Printed Thing. Half-catalogue, half-diary, half-inspirational life-changing document, every former Remo customer should have one of these things. I've already put in several orders and am eagerly anticipating their arrival in Bangkok .

Singapore v Sydney.

These days, Singapore and Sydney have more in common than ever. A beautiful urban waterfront, an iconic performing arts centre, an increasingly beautiful population, a plethora of minimalist chic restaurants, and a burgeoning love of convertible cars, for starters.

But on a recent trip to the New South Wales capital, an afternoon spent by the harbour at the Redleaf Pool in Double Bay got me wondering why Singapore doesn’t take another leaf out of Sydney’s book. Lying on the sliver of beach flipping through the Sydney Morning Herald, squinting against the sun reflecting off the water, I asked myself: why doesn’t Singapore have any opportunities for safe, enclosed bathing in a natural body of water?

If I recall my previous life as a Chinese rubber tycoon correctly, as recently as the 1930s the lush republic boasted at least two sea pools: one at Katong, housing the Singapore Swimming Club, and one in Ponggol.

I’m aware that there are water quality issues. Bedok is never going to be Bronte; Tanah Merah bears little resemblance to Tamarama. But in the true Singapore innovative spirit, I submit this suggestion to the Singapore Sports Council.

How about building a fifty metre pool at the beach? I’m thinking about somewhere along East Coast Park, probably near the Marine Parade underpass. A pool, jutting out from the beach, appearing to be part of the sea, giving all the relaxing benefits of a beachside dip. But in deference to water quality issues, the pool would be fully self-contained, independent of the ocean: simply a traditional chlorinated swimming pool, just like the other 19 public pools in Singapore; with the one difference being that it’s surrounded by sea.

With a Sydney-style café, generous sunbathing deck, late night swimming and perhaps a massage centre and spa attached, the pool could be a focal point of the beach and vastly increase the glamour level of the East Coast. I hope architects’ applications will be invited at at the earliest opportunity.