(Several hours pass.)

"I couldn't get into the payment system at 1 am because it was jammed, but I got in two minutes later. I'm not sure whether I missed out on the freebie or not."

It turns out that the freebie in question is either an ion comb plus electronic toothbrush, an ion comb plus massage equipment or a hair dryer, depending on where you ranked in the first 6,500 buyers, or nothing if you were the 6,501st－who may have punched in the order at 1:02 am.

But that seems of no import to the lady who feels in need of beauty enhancement. She has just enhanced her material wealth by buying a pink coat, Japanese shampoo, snacks, Spanish wine and few other things at a cost of 3,000 yuan.

(Several more hours pass.)

In newsrooms across the world, fingers that had been twitching are relieved.

"China's Singles Day sets spending record," the Financial Times of London says in its headline.

Our enhanced buyer with the about-to-be-enhanced face may have been among the tens of millions who have helped enhance the bottom line of Alibaba, the godfather of Singles Day, helping it rake in a little more than 91 billion yuan in 24 hours.

For the world at large, which always hangs by breathlessly waiting for economic figures from China that it hopes will be harbingers of economic salvation, the news is lapped up, and our friend who feels cosmetically challenged gets her just deserts for helping deliver the world a dose of good cheer: she turns out to be buyer No 3,004 and lands a hairdryer.

A non-Chinese friend of mine has mockingly compared so-called Singles Day in China with Christmas in the West. "We have Father Christmas, who can't stop giving, and you have Jack Ma (the founder of Alibaba), who can't stop taking," he jokes.

However, that quip does raise the serious question of whether this shopping extravaganza that seems to have become as important on the calendar as December 25 or February 14, the Chinese Spring Festival, is something to be lighthearted about or whether something more sinister is at play.