God, i'm terribly bushed! Just reached my place from the 2005 Metro M Fashion Festival held at the ever famous place, NBC Tent. Metro M Fashion Festival's a huge event wherein the best stylists, video producers, directors, designers, and production people gather to celebrate their craft. Like the usual, the Fashion Festival was strictly invitational but i got an easy hassle-free access because Super!Inquirer invited the fashionista/stylist side of me. Oh well, i guess i'm just a lucky bitch who paraded the carpeted place together with my vintage dressed crewmate, Aphrodite, and my model friend, bubbles.

Sigh. Life has been good to me.

Enough with my vainglorious self, This big event was conceptualized by advertising man and publicist GP Reyes and was directed by Robby Carmona. Top models like Nicolette Bell and Brent Javier showcased new epoch of clothes designed by young filipino designers from local shops like Bayo, Cinderella, Folded and Hung, Freeway, Novecento, Plains and Prints, Rustan's Cult Femme, and Rustan's men. The fact that these local shops launched newly designed clothes made me happy because at least something in our country is evolving to a higher form; our appreciation of our own culture, our very own uncopied fashion statement. A deafening hurray to all the young designers! Hurray to us!

Of course, the event wouldn't be successful without the creative director and production people so my congratulations to all of you.

The festival ended with stylist/host Jenni Epperson inviting us all to the after party at Embassy Super Club. So there. Sigh. Life has been good to me.

Rustan's Men

Rustan's Cult Femme

Brent Javier

Much love,

I thought i had a Cayce Pollard feeling one afternoon, while i was trying to find my way through the hyperlink-like circuitry of the Ruins shopping maze. Ruins is an enjoyable place to shop and skim through cheap from-bangkok-clothes. But a huge part of Ruins shopping sub-system is dedicated to fake Louis Vuittons, Pradas, Coaches, and Tommies.

The Ruins tiangge vortex, while an actual trove of bootleg delights is simultaneously assaulting our senses; it is in addition, a brazen display of crass reproduction. Try making sense of this place, self-governing of the outside world, yet completely beholden for its stalls after stalls chinese junks, cheesy panties, and leatherware brandished with misaligned gucci prints that scream MURA KAMI. Well, i love cheap frills but i disdain people who fail to comprehend the viral proliferation of the copied, the ripped off, the faked.

The logo, according to Cayce, is powerful because it is the abstracted essence of the thing it represents, and on its own, divorced from its context, it can even have greater power. An example of a logo is the nazified swastika. For most people, it is the portent of evil ambition but Hitler had just literally twisted it from a more peace-loving, right-hand-waving sign of buddhist holiness.

Brushing past burberry umbrellas in fictionalized shades, chain of arm locked CC's, patterns of sixty-nining GG's, and the the most exposed of all lovers, the L and its lapdancing V, I thought i was having another Cayce Pollard moment. I'm not allergic to logos fake or real, as much as i can i choose not to have any name, brand, label, store, any sign too obvious displayed on what i wear. There's something slightly tacky about being so self-announcing and mindlessly advertorial that i stay away from logos.

Then again, irony: In one embedded stall i saw, dangling like a green jewel, a beautiful replica of a painted and tasseled Christian Dior saddle bag. It was impeccable. It was the only bag like it in the whole maze. Then again, i came upon an existential crux: If the copy was exactly like the real, what would the difference be? Would it matter if nobody could tell?... But even if i were to buy it, i still wouldn't have been able to afford the friggin' fake bag because its price is 6000 grand.

Sigh. It would have been the Vegas or the Eiffel to me. Not the real thing, but a fun homage. In the end, however, I'd rather spend the money on something real, something crafted from one's true creativity, and not on imitations devoid of soul.

Much love,

Wee, i have to send a congratulation to my sister and to myself for doing a job well done layout!

You may not know but i'm a coffee beggar, a coffee junkie. Espresso, caramel cream, dark coffee, nescafe with coffee mate, brewed coffee, kapeng barako ni lola and so on. Feed me any of those and i'm sure to love you till the end of days.

Inversely, coffee serves as an instant downer to me. I know it seems out of this world but coffee puts me to sleep, caffeine makes me brave the waters to dreamland. This gives me my own reasoning, "i love coffee because i love sleeping, and dreaming." Science may defy my reasoning since coffee's supposed to be an energizer, booster, or an instant perk-me-up but science can't argue with me because it will just be an exercise of futility because no matter how caffeine induced i am, the effect will just be the opposite. Caffeine works differently to me. I appreciate the rich goodness of coffee because it cradles me to sleep.

So the next time you see me hitting on an espresso, it's just one way of saying i wanna rest and make love with the king of dreams. So there.

God bless the coffee makers!

sex videos kill

Sex videos are a cheap form of entertainment nowadays. They're so pop now that even pre-school kids know the latest kama-sutra of certain unlucky celebrities with much thanks to telephonic devices and to the vigilant supervision of folks.

No one needs a lead-in to sex videos, It has become a social paranoia. It has been widespread like a disease preying for the next victim. Sex videos are free, just activate your bluetooth and voila, instant pornography, or you could just switch on your boob tube and wait for the top networks to play it for you. (See, the demand for sex videos are so high that even the top 2 networks are playing it.)

But what do we get from filming and passing around such acts of copulation? What do we get from feasting on other people's private lives? Do we get satiesfied because we crippled their reputation? What good does it do to us? And where do we go from here? The answer? Zero percent goodness and we brave the waters to limbo.

Sex videos are the epitome of the horny devil in us. It gives a fleeting moment of happiness for the masses but a never-ending agony to the victims. Sex videos show nothing but human weakness to the call of impulse. I have nothing against impulse but if we could just consider the huge implication of what we're about to do then sex videos wouldn't be a burden to us in the first place. Sex videos poison young and promising innocent minds. It saps the solemnity of sex. Most of all, it disabilitates the core value of respect.

It isn't easy to propagate a working solution to this issue but if we could just exercise respect and contain ourselves from prying on people's lives and stop sex videos from spreading then i guess this issue will die sooner or later in its own way.

Much love,