「台式浪漫」從形容詞變成名詞,這件事比你想的嚴肅

「台式浪漫」從形容詞變成名詞,這件事比你想的嚴肅

命名之前

香菜豬血糕拿鐵,這個詞本身就是一個立場。Mountain 13 把它做成咖啡,擺在誠品生活南西「收藏台式浪漫」市集的架子上,旁邊是洛神梅酒、豆乳瑪德蓮、跳跳糖巧克力。18個台灣本土品牌,策展主題四個字:台式浪漫。不是「具有在地特色的」,不是「充滿台灣風情的」。就是台式浪漫,名詞,完整的。

這個細節值得停留一秒。形容詞需要依附在別的事物上才能存在——「有質感的空間」、「有特色的小吃」。名詞可以獨立站著。當一個文化的自我描述從形容詞跳躍成名詞,語法改變的背後是主體性的轉移:不再等待別人定義,自己先說。

三個案例,同一個語法

同一週,花蓮秀林鄉的「太魯閣食光」品牌升級。這次他們給地方IP取了一個具體的名字:三寶——紅藜、樹豆、山胡椒。不是「原住民傳統食材」這樣的類別詞,是三個有名字的東西,九個部落共同持有這個命名。金曲歌手王宏恩擔任觀光大使,製作了主題曲。一個食材清單變成了可以傳唱的品牌。

高雄的承億亞灣店,40個展間同步展出,把飯店整體轉型為城市藝術節場域,主題叫「藝術正在進場」。飯店不再是藝術活動的外部容器,它本身就是策展空間。

三個案例,規模不同,邏輯相同:給自己命名,然後以那個名字行動。

這不是突然發生的

台灣文創園區的建設從2002年啟動,政府在第一階段投入NT$288億,2009年到2013年的「Creative Taiwan計畫」再追加NT$265億。華山1914、松菸文創園區、駁二藝術特區在這段時間裡成形,它們是基礎建設,不是文化結果。基礎建設的目的是讓文化結果有地方發生。

二十年過去,現在正在發生的,是那筆建設費用的回聲——只是晚了夠久,已經沒有人在算這筆帳了。誠品從書店變成台灣品牌出海的跳板,地方食材可以打包成觀光IP,飯店可以變成藝術節。這些動作在2002年都還不在語彙裡。

命名之後

「台式浪漫」作為一個詞,現在同時在做兩件事:它是品牌語言,也是文化認同的邊界標記。品牌語言的功能是讓外人快速辨識;文化認同的邊界標記的功能,是讓內部的人知道自己站在哪裡。

這兩個功能不一定同步成功。當一個詞被過度消費,它的邊界感就會磨損——「文青」走過這條路,「小確幸」也走過。台式浪漫現在還在命名的早期,還沒有被用爛。但18個品牌同時使用它,這個詞的密度已經在上升了。

我沒辦法確定「台式浪漫」能不能撐過接下來幾年的商業化壓力。但我確定一件事:有名字的東西才能被記住,才能被輸出,才能在別的語境裡被認出來。太魯閣三寶可以在東京的誠品生活日本橋上架,因為它有一個可以被印在標籤上的名字。沒有名字的「傳統原住民食材」,在通路系統裡只是一個品類欄位。

命名不是宣傳動作。命名是讓一件事情可以被帶走的第一步。

— 楊方晴 (Ivy)

延伸閱讀


Taiwan Aesthetic Gets a Name and Means Business

Before the Name

Coriander-and-pig-blood-cake latte. That phrase alone is a stance. Mountain 13 put it in a cup and placed it on a shelf inside Eslite Spectrum Nanxi’s “Collecting Taiwanese Romance” market — 18 local Taiwanese brands, one four-character curatorial theme: 台式浪漫. Not “locally characteristic.” Not “culturally textured.” Just Taiwanese Romance, a noun, standing on its own.

That grammatical shift matters more than it sounds. Adjectives need something to attach to — “a space with character,” “food with local flavor.” Nouns can stand alone. When a culture’s self-description jumps from adjective to noun, the grammar is announcing something: we are done waiting to be described.

Three Cases, One Logic

The same week, Hualien’s Taroko Food Festival brand upgraded its identity. The local IP now has a specific name: the Three Treasures — red quinoa (紅藜), tree beans (樹豆), and mountain pepper (山胡椒). Not a category label like “indigenous traditional ingredients” — three things with names, held collectively by nine villages. Golden Melody Award singer Wang Hongen signed on as tourism ambassador and recorded a theme song. A list of ingredients became something singable.

In Kaohsiung, Cozzi Blu Wanwan’s 40 exhibition rooms opened simultaneously, converting the entire hotel into an urban art festival venue under the banner “Art Is Entering the Stage.” The hotel stopped being a container for art events and became the curatorial space itself.

Different scales, same logic: name yourself, then act under that name.

This Didn’t Happen Overnight

Taiwan’s cultural creative park infrastructure started in 2002, with the government committing NT$288 billion in the first phase and another NT$265 billion through the Creative Taiwan initiative from 2009 to 2013. Huashan 1914, Songshan Cultural and Creative Park, and Pier-2 Art Center were built in that window — infrastructure, not cultural outcomes. Infrastructure exists so outcomes have somewhere to happen.

Twenty years later, what’s happening now is the delayed echo of that investment. Eslite has evolved from a bookstore into a launchpad for Taiwanese brands reaching Japanese retail. Local ingredients can be packaged as tourism IP. Hotels can run as art festivals. None of that vocabulary existed in 2002.

What Naming Does

“Taiwanese Romance” is currently doing two jobs simultaneously: brand language and cultural boundary marker. Brand language helps outsiders recognize something fast. Cultural boundary markers tell people on the inside where they stand.

These two functions don’t always scale at the same speed. When a term gets commercially overloaded, its boundary sense erodes — 文青 went through this, 小確幸 did too. Taiwanese Romance is still early in its naming arc, not yet worn smooth. But 18 brands using it in the same curatorial event means the term’s density is already rising.

Whether “Taiwanese Romance” survives the next few years of commercial pressure is a genuinely open question. What’s not open: things with names get remembered, exported, and recognized in other contexts. Taroko’s Three Treasures can be shelved at Eslite in Tokyo because they have a name that fits on a label. “Traditional indigenous ingredients” is just a category field in a logistics system.

Naming isn’t a PR move. It’s the prerequisite for being carried anywhere.

— 楊方晴 (Ivy)

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