Pink is my fa-vorite color — always has been — the brighter, the better. I have always thought it flattering, especially to men, and suited to all types of complexions. I find that it is a happy color, delicate, softer and less provocative than its cousin, red. It is bright and playful. Worn as a shirt close to the face, it somehow lifts the natural cheek tint, making one look healthier and livelier. Consider these clichés: “in the pink,” which means healthy, and “tickled pink” which means delighted and content.” Aren’t they evocative of happiness?
I never quite got why it has long been associated with femininity. I never quite got why men — save for a handful, including those closest to me like my father, brothers and son — refuse to wear anything pink. Okay, it does remind us of cotton candy and bubblegum and little babies’ chubby cheeks — still, nothing particularly feminine about that. Men and women eat cotton candy and chew gum and both boy and girl babies have rosy cheeks. Pink, like red, denotes love and passion, romance and charm, playfulness and tenderness; but men as much as women are into that — sometimes even more so.
I believe pink only earned some degree of acceptability in the masculine sphere in the mid-‘80s after Don Johnson in NBC’s TV hit show Miami Vice started sporting pink Armani blazers and shirts with white linen trousers and loafers without socks. He made pink “hip” in that decade. Now, pink comes and goes out of style with only the few and the proud male fashion renegades sporting it whenever they please, calling attention to themselves.
This is precisely what the right wing conservatives shun — attention and doubt — so they stick to their old, reliable staid blues and safe grays — nothing wrong with that. It’s a free country, clothing-wise. Still, my heart skips a beat every time I see a man in any shade of pink, be it blush, baby pink, salmon, carnation, rose, raspberry, hot pink, magenta, fuchsia or what premier hair stylist and makeup artist Henry Calayag, calls “anak ng fuchsia.”
But somehow, wearing pink invites questions about a man’s sexuality — to this day. Why should this be, in these postmodern times? I suspect it’s because it’s difficult to slay old habits and for as long as we keep assigning blue to male infants and pink to the tiny female bundles of joy, we will continue raising generations of similar, conditioned mindsets.
This is the reason I celebrate those brave enough to challenge the norm. When a man wears pink it is as though he is saying: I’m so secure and comfortable in my masculinity it’s not even funny. There is nothing sexier than a pink-clad man because it automatically signals self-assuredness and nothing spells H-O-T more clearly than a confident man.
It was with this bias that I sat down with UST Publishing House business manager Carljoe Javier and in-house artist Sam Macaisa. UST, with the blessing of my STAR Lifestyle editor Millet Mananquil, is publishing my book, FORTyFIED and we had to come up with artwork for posters, invitations and T-shirts for the upcoming book launch.
The book is a compilation of articles from this column, from which the concept of a “FORTyFIED” man was culled — my muse, if you will, and the inspiration that comes to bear on every piece I do. He is someone who is indeed fortified by postmodern beliefs in the equal status of men and women; someone who is evolved enough to celebrate his “manhood” and yet uphold all things female; someone who is openly nurturing to women and children; someone who is gratified by all that he is and at peace with all that he isn’t; someone who can have a rip-roaring time with his buddies but remains in tune with all that the women around him are; someone who continues to dream of a better place for his children and does his bit to make it happen; someone who burps and farts but lifts the toilet seat up; someone who pulls out chairs and opens doors yet still believes that girls’ shoes are senseless; someone who indulges his partner’s handbag habit and still gives to charity; someone who isn’t afraid to wear pink — a superhero of sorts because the ordinary Joe isn’t all that.
And so Captain FORTyFIED was born — a butt-kicking, hotter-than-hot dude, with the body and strength of a superhero, the face of a certified cutie, the smarts of a captain of industry, the intuition of a woman, the kindness of a saint, plus he is a husband and a father.
Do I dream big? Yes, I do!
While brainstorming over the costume of our superhero, I came up — predictably — with the color pink. “Pink is my favorite color. Let’s make him wear pink.”
Carljoe and Sam were shocked. “Pink?” Carl asked, while maintaining full composure.
“Yes, pink,” I said. “Fuchsia, in fact. Really bright pink.”
“But isn’t your target market men? They might not buy the book or the shirts if there’s a superhero in pink on it,” Carl said.
“My market is women and men. Don’t worry,” I said. “They will wear it.” I then turned to Sam and told him, “Sam, fuchsia superhero costume with gray tights, boots and gray panties.”
This time they looked at me as though I were a crazy woman. “Oh, sorry, I meant gray jockey, I mean briefs, tighty whities — whatever it is you call it.”
Ever the businessman, Carl humored me and said to Sam, “O, Sam, basta gawin mo na lang ‘Dude Pink.’”
And so the color dude pink was born. It actually is fuchsia; the name “dude pink” simply makes it more palatable to the dudes.
Sam got to work and got back to me a few days later with a drawing of — voila! — Captain FORTyFIED and his family!
I was telling my 15-year-old daughter, Isabel, the back story of “dude pink.” She, like me, loves the color. So between us, the merits of pink reach majestic proportions.
“I don’t know why most men can’t get themselves to wear pink. We even have to call it dude pink to make it more dude friendly,” I told her.
“Why don’t you write about it in your column, Mom?” she said.
“I can’t do that just yet because I haven’t figured out the insight on this whole issue of incompatibility between men and the color pink,” I said.
“It’s quite simple, Mom,” she told me. “The insight is you don’t have to look macho to be a man.”
There you have it, put plainly by a young lady at the wise old age of 15.
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Thank you for your letters. You may reach me at cecilelilles@yahoo.com.
Please come to the launch of FORTyFIED, the book, on Thursday, April 7 at 6 p.m. at Filipinas Heritage Library, Makati Ave. cor. Ayala Ave. Everyone is invited.