One a micro scale, clothing is meant to be an individual reflection of personality. Can one implode this notion to a macro scale and suppose that clothing of an entire nation reflects its urban mentality? In Los Angeles, vintage thrift store finds worn by hipsters echoe heavy preservation efforts. Los Angeles monuments are meant to last forever. Europe's claim to haute-couture labels mirrors its production of starchitects like Renzo Piano and Steven Holl. Architecture and fashion alike are judged solely by well-trusted names which evidently equate to quality.In the same vain, perhaps China's low-quality, sometimes fake goods are indicative of China's urban mentality. While there have been exceptions, China is notorious for clothing that literally falls apart at the seams. But the short-term lifespan of clothing encourages consumers to (a) continually update with new purchases or (b) employ methods of careful preservation. How does this translate for Chinese cities that are not built to last? Does it keep cities fresh and young? Does it make them conscious of abusing their resources?

Fashionistas have consciously had to decide if they support couture labels versus the ubiquitous MADE IN CHINA label, but have all citizens decided if they support a perpetual city versus a fleeting one? The theme of the 2007 Shenzhen Biennale of Architecture and Urbanism, hosted by China's leading Special Economic Zone, poses that very question. Its theme- The City of Expiration and Regeneration (CoER)- provokes one to consider how long a city should last.

"Perahps cities are meant to fulfill their social purpose before vanishing lightly and intelligently," suggests Qingyun Ma, the curator in chief of this year's biennale. To buy into this notion of a lightweight, fleeting city is like buying cheap t-shirts in the flea markets in China- you know it won't last, but that's almost the charm of it. Sure, you can buy one couture blouse to last you a year, but for the same price, you can buy twelve "China-quality" tees and update your wardrobe every month. The biennale poses a similiar dilemma: How do citizens and their government invest in their city?

One camp argues that we should invest in the perpetuation of our cities, just as a shopper may decide to go for a classic couture piece for her wardrobe, and perhaps even hand it down to her daughter's wardrobe. In this scheme, cities last for generations, despite any organic transformations. The foil to this ageless city is perhaps the constantly updated city. The biennale does not suggest that cities be short-lived and trendy, but fleeting and mobile. Imagine a city akin to your ideal wardrobe for travel- clothing that is light and flexible, but also disposable. Perhaps cities, like clothing, should have the ability to easily come and go.