Ricco Ocampo once told me when I went to interview him for one of his restaurants, "Buti na lang I didn’t wear my rubber shoes. Pareho pala tayo." I didn’t know whether to laugh or to fling my Nike Cages in the nearest garbage bin because somebody recognized that I had bought them from the boys’ department – at discount price, naturally.
That’s what I like best about Ricco. He has a relaxed, unassuming manner that if you were meeting him for the first time, you wouldn’t think this was a guy who can name all the designer boutiques on New York’s 5th Avenue alphabetically, or spot a Christian Liaigre chair a mile away, or that he’s a businessman who has practically turned into gold every-thing he has touched. That, and the fact that when we do get to do an interview, we always resort to speaking in Kapam-pangan and he sometimes texts that way too, which is in fact impractical since the words tend to be long. "I’m a Kapampangan at heart," he has said more than once, whether he’s talking about food or his perspective in life. "Balu mu no reng Kapampangan, makanyan la." (You know Kapampangans, they’re like that.)
Consider the case for Ricco as maverick retailer. Back in the Eighties, when the local ready-to-wear scene was scrambling to find its identity between Crispa T-shirts and knockoff designer wear, Ricco with his cousins started Sari-Sari Store, creating original designs and a marketing campaign that would have been deemed unfashionable at the time. He hired photographer Neal Oshima and put an unapologetic Pinoy slant to his fashion layouts with models in landmark Filipino settings. There were Sari-Sari calendars and bookmarks with sepia photographs and Tagalog copy. Years later, when I would interview Neal Oshima for the STAR and I asked him to lend us copies of the work he had done over the years, he gave me a long, brown packet of Sari-Sari calendars.
After Sari-Sari, Ricco developed boutiques with his wife Tina Maristela-Ocampo, namely, Mix, The Black Shop and Fish. But it was Anonymous that really put him in the Midas category and in the embrace of the public. Defying the prevailing logic that one had to have a familiar brand name on the racks to sell, he made Anonymous an anti-brand, anti -status store. Take that, Saks Fifth!
Then he partnered up with friends to produce a new string of businesses: with Rikki Dee, he opened Kitchen, which put hip in casual dining, and this year, the casual-dining Japanese restaurant Osake; with Maritel Nievera and Rikki for Mangan and Ebun, both serving Kapampangan fare; and last year, he opened the fine-dining Japanese restaurant Kai with Doris Magsaysay Ho, Rikki, and a group of young Filipino chefs from New York. You can say Ricco has the retail business all figured out, whether it’s for the high-end, well-heeled market or for the office-going, rubber-shoed crowd.
"For me, it’s always been a quest to be different from the rest. I don’t think I’m going to enjoy life if I’m just ‘one of them.’ I don’t like going with the trend," he says. "I want to put integrity into all the things that I do, whether it’s designing the stores or being involved in the creative process. That also goes with the type of bedsheets that I buy for our bedroom, the type of flatware that we use. Even if it’s a tabo or a toothbrush, the object has to be done well aesthetically."
The biggest surprise for me was seeing his design style up close – not for his restaurants, which are contemporary and minimalist, but for his own personal use. His home resembles a Sixties house. He’s in love with that Technicolor decade of pop art (a movement acknowledged in America as early as 1962), op art, Andy Warhol exhibiting 32 Campbell soup can paintings, biomorphic sofas, the space age and the ensuing race, Stanley Kubric’s 1967 film 2001 which influenced the concept of futuristic interiors, psychedelia, and plastic molded furniture. As one designer pointed out, "the more dramatic 1960s interiors appear to have been drug-induced even if they were not." Ricco’s is a quieter, non-flamboyant version of the Sixties house.
At first he hired three architects and designers for the renovation of his Forbes Park home, but in the end "what came out in their designs was their personalities, not mine, so I decided to just do it myself." He and his wife were born in the Sixties, they both love the furniture from that decade (Tina collects vintage clothes and accessories, as well) and he found out that the house was originally built in the 1960s. He spent three years in research to come up with this design, but the minimalist in him would not allow for that era’s colors to be splashed all over the walls (which are all white), so he focused instead on the furniture and the accessories. He went to Tai Ping and asked them what kind of designs they were producing in the 1960s, he read books, he hit the stores here and abroad.
"I hope it’s my last passion because I’ve gone into different phases for the home. I started with ultra modern, the Philippe Starck type, then I went Balinese, then Filipino antiques," he says with a laugh. "This is the best time that I’m enjoying my house. Some of the stuff we bought are not name pieces but they were done in the 1960s. I’d say at least 70 percent, from the carpets to the lights, of the house is authentic Sixties."
Which explains the giant foot in the foyer, looking like part of a towering statue that was inadvertently left behind in haste. It was designed by the Italian avant-gardist Gaetano Pesce, whose rubber designs and anthropomorphic lines "became one of the legendary acts of pop art in the 1960s." So maybe this foot is symbolic for Ricco as well. That in this age of conspicuous consumption, we all go barefoot when the time comes; maybe it says this is how far he has walked and ran, and hey, he’s raring to go again; maybe it says going back to the past is a step into the future; maybe he just wants a good laugh, an excellent conversation starter for those Sixties-themed parties in his house when wife Tina will wear her vintage clothes and Ricco will put on his trademark black T-shirt.
And what about their children, what do they think about the house? Ricco grins and says, "They think they live in an Austin Powers house."
1. Emilio Aguilar Cruz’s painting "Night of the Independence Day, 1977." This painting reminds me how proud I am of being Filipino – after 41 years of existence. For the past two years this feeling hits me every day, how appreciative I am of my race and culture. Abe, who was my personal friend, said it was one of his favorite works.
2. Tina’s portrait by Doris Ho, 2002. I’ve always admired Doris’ collection of portraits. It is surely her hidden wealth. Doris has taught me so many things in life and this portrait means so much to me.
3. Ham, the English bulldog; Juan, the Italian greyhound and Dries, the black labrador. These dogs give me so much happiness. Aside from the fact that they look odd being together, we love hanging around with them.
4. Books. I particularly love my books on architecture, food and travel. I always erase the guilt of overspending on books by constantly thinking, "I don’t buy clothes and I don’t watch TV, so I’m free to spend on these and I have the time to read them."
5. La Chaise by Charles and Ray Eames. This may look like a sculpture – but it is actually a comfy chair.
6. Warren Platner’s wire furniture series, 1967. One of the first retro pieces I collected. I found this chaise lounge in a small shop in downtown New York and the owner didn’t particularly know its value.
7. Mercedes Benz G-wagon. When I got this jeep in 1997, I immediately fell in love with it and up to now I haven’t had any problems with it. Surely, it will last me a lifetime.
8. Tina’s portraits by Neal Oshima. Undoubtedly the best photographer in Manila – and the most misunder-stood. Neal started shooting Tina in the 1980s for Shoemart and both have created incredible art pieces since then. It’s been a year now that I have been waiting for Tina’s portrait in the entrance of our empty foyer.
9. Ebun. Kapampangan rules! My greatest achievement is to design a cafe that depicts a hip Filipino hangout that’s cool for everyone.
10. Gaetano Pesce’s "The Foot," 1969. It’s such a cool sculpture and it represents both modernity and the past.
11. Romulo Galicano’s "Jardin de Tuileries," 1978. A wedding gift from Abe. Every time I travel to Paris, I always make it a point to hang out in this garden and dream.
12. Nokia 7250 cell phone. Nobody can ever live without a cell phone. This is my third gift from Globe, which shows you just how much I burn the lines and abuse it.
2. Barnes & Noble on Fifth Avenue
3. Strands Bookstore in Soho, NY
4. Troy for furniture
5. Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) gift shop
1. Taqueria Chilanga, a Mexican food stall, at Greenbelt 3 food court
2. Tsukiji on Pasay Road
3. Four Seasons in N.Y.
4. Nobu-New York and Nobu Next Door
5. Nicole Farhi restaurant
2. Richard Neutra
3. Jacques Herzog and Pierre de Meuron
4. Tadao Ando
5. Lor Calma
2. Cambodia. A place for leisure.
3. Bali. I’ll never tire of this place.
4. Paris. Everywhere you look is art and great design.