Vicky Lam is not overwhelmed. She’s operating exactly as designed. A larger-than-life yet cooly analytical cartoon character that’s becoming more and more animated. We meet outside Ho Chi Minh City’s CENTEC Tower where she’s taking a moment with her cigarette, preparing for our ascent into her world at the dual-concept venue that is redefining the relationship between dining and nightlife in the city: DẠ夜 and HỢP合.
Vicky Lam is not overwhelmed. She’s operating exactly as designed. A larger-than-life yet cooly analytical cartoon character that’s becoming more and more animated. We meet outside Ho Chi Minh City’s CENTEC Tower where she’s taking a moment with her cigarette, preparing for our ascent into her world at the dual-concept venue that is redefining the relationship between dining and nightlife in the city: DẠ夜 and HỢP合.“I do see life as an RPG game,” she admits with unexpected enthusiasm. Her eyes light up behind her analytical-looking lenses. “You need to understand your character to have the right strategy and gear up properly.”
Calculations And Chaos
She navigates her world with analytical precision despite appearing perpetually on the brink of chaos. Her oversized glasses aren’t just corrective. They’re analysis tools and a convenient barrier between her introverted self and a world that demands her constant attention.
Through them, she processes multiple realities at once: construction deadlines, tomorrow’s presentation, the staffing crisis that erupted twenty minutes ago. The cigarette between her fingers isn’t a habit. It’s a timekeeper. Each one measures intervals between problems solved. She takes one final drag, stubs it out, and we enter the building.
Life Support Systems
“I’m Brand & Marketing Director of DẠ夜 Dining and HỢP合 Rooftop,” Vicky Lam begins as we ride the elevator. “Basically my job is to put together a team that can support me with crafting concepts. We bring them to life and then we maintain them…”
We reach DẠ夜 (pronounced “ya”) which is entered through a corridor soaked in blue. Tea lights create shadows that dance. Not decoration – a premonition of the choreography inside, where nightly performances provide momentary distraction from the compelling modern-Chinese cuisine. The dining room doesn’t choose between East and West. It marries them. Wok-seared duck breast arrives alongside Sichuan steamed fish. Traditional supports experimentation – abalone with foie gras defies categorization without sacrificing identity.
Butterflies And Hallways
“I always get butterflies when I walk guests up our navy blue staircase, through our narrow hallway, then open the doors to the beautiful theatre that is DẠ夜,” she announces.
It’s precisely this dual nature – the systematic thinker who still feels the magic – that makes her approach work. “There’s always something artful to discover – like our central ‘bonsai’ piece, our hanging lanterns, or our enigmatic private room.” Her voice drops conspiratorially. “Imagine having your birthday there: the city view and the unreal decor.”
“The thrill, the excitement and the fear.”
In the background, on the stage behind the bar, the performers are rehearsing for tonight. Moments of choreography and calm before another busy shift. It’s serene enough to allow for a little reminiscing. She remembers “the thrill, the excitement and the fear” of quitting her job and joining Peter Cuong Franklin’s Ănăn Saigon – an early mentor she still reveres – as it was opening, at a time when a MICHELIN star, and becoming Vietnam’s sole entry into Asia’s 50 Best Restaurants, were far-off dreams.
She remembers getting home at 3am on opening night. “I opened my fridge, took out a bottle of water and literally fell asleep in the glow of the fridge’s lights – a glorious faint because as I sank to the floor I knew I’d also immersed myself fully in the hospitality industry.”
Mistakes And Lessons Learned: “When you lose, make sure you walk away with something.”
When she left a year or two later, as if unable to stray too far from Peter’s watchful gaze, she opened her first restaurant right next door, called The Other Place. Despite its popularity, partly because of the pandemic, it closed, leaving behind an acceptance that there “were a lot of mistakes and many lessons learned…”
“Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. When you lose, make sure you walk away with something, whether a lesson or experience,” she concludes.
Two Boldly Cinematic Visions Atop Ho Chi Minh City’s CENTEC Tower
Most recently she’s helped conjure this space, DẠ夜 Dining, and upstairs HỢP合 Rooftop into being, two boldly cinematic visions atop Ho Chi Minh City’s CENTEC Tower. The former is a moody Chinese restaurant channeling Wong Kar-wai’s “In the Mood for Love,” the other a rooftop bar pulsing with the chaotic energy of “Chungking Express.”
“Let’s go upstairs,” she suggests, the need for another cigarette becoming apparent. We ascend to HỢP合 (pronounced “hop”), a space that isn’t just named after the word for ‘union’ in Vietnamese and Chinese – it physically demonstrates it. The space’s measured elegance explodes into raw energy the later it gets, channeling ’90s Hong Kong through a contemporary filter – nostalgia rebuilt with better materials. Stepping onto the rooftop, Vicky immediately lights up, visibly relaxing as she takes in the evening sky flushed pink while exhaling a thin stream of smoke.
Noticing the details we’d passed on the way here, the DẠ夜 lampshades embossed with the restaurant’s logo, the delicate tableware and hip, Chinese-accented uniforms, and up here, the towering DJ booth, and the bar area that’s glowing enigmatically, as if it too is setting itself for a long night, it’s clear a lot of work went into the project. Vicky navigated it consummately, keeping construction workers on task, the chefs and bartenders on the delivery schedules for their menus, in what remains a predominantly male-dominated domain.
“There are strengths and weaknesses to each gender. And equality can only truly start with that mentality,” she shrugs. “Hospitality is notorious for its long hours and unpredictable schedules, which can make it harder for women. So, the true oppressors here are the long-held societal expectations around gender roles!” she decides.
The Real Superpower Isn’t Software
To get to the finish line, she juggled between Trello and Google Calendars, but Vicky Lam’s real superpower isn’t software. It’s systematic thinking. “I put in the time to train my team to prioritize independently,” she says, exhaling another plume of smoke against the darkening sky.
Her philosophy is ruthlessly pragmatic. “I’ve come to believe that 8 out of 10s across the board beats a 10 in one area and 4s and 5s elsewhere,” she smiles knowingly. No perfectionism here. Just calculated efficiency. When pressed about downtime, she laughs – a sharp, genuine sound that suggests the question itself might be the first break she’s taken today.
A Recipe For Success
Perhaps it’s better, we decide, to stick to the topic at hand, and the recipe behind the success of DẠ夜. Vicky snaps back immediately: “A sprinkle of cinematic aesthetics, three dashes of enigmatic air, five tablespoons of good food, seasoned with fantastic cocktails – all well simmered in a captivating broth of impeccable service.” She pauses, cigarette hovering. “DẠ夜 is better when served with our unique blend of sauces – our curated tasteful performances of various kinds.” The metaphor isn’t random. Every element has been measured precisely.
New Year’s Eve 2024 stands as vindication. Having opened on Halloween, the team had barely two months to coalesce before facing their ultimate test. “All of our decks and moodboards came to life,” she recalls, a rare smile softening her features. “The decor was beautiful, the set menu was a hit, the performances were captivating.”
For once, she allows herself to celebrate without qualification. “Guests were applauding, laughing, dancing in our open sky bar, surrounded by our unique 360-degree view and then the fireworks were going off!” She stubs out her cigarette definitively. “The teams made it.”
Reset button pressed. Game on.
As the city lights begin to twinkle beneath us, she’s already thinking about what’s next. “Đông Dương Restaurant,” she says with barely contained excitement. “We just soft opened.”
The project, it turns out, is entirely different in scale – a massive 500-seat reimagining of an institution in Ho Chi Minh City’s dining scene. The original Indochine was ripe for reinvention, and Lam couldn’t resist the challenge.
“It’s traditionally inspired,” she explains, briefly outlining a vision that honors heritage while applying her characteristic precision to every detail. “Which we’ve done brilliantly,” she adds without a hint of false modesty.
As she speaks, you can almost see the mental spreadsheets and mood boards forming behind those analytical glasses – new problems to solve, new concepts to sharpen, new teams to systematize. For most, completing two distinctive venues in a single tower would be achievement enough. For Vicky Lam, it’s just another level in the RPG – a chance to apply lessons learned, refine her character stats, and take on a bigger boss.
She takes one last drag, surveys her kingdom from above, and flicks her cigarette into the night. Reset button pressed. Game on.
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