17 again
Yay though we venture through
The valley of the stars…
…And it feels like
I’m seventeen again
Feels like I’m seventeen
…Looking from the outside in
Some things never change
Hey, hey I’m a million miles away
Funny how it seems like yesterday
All those fake celebrities
And all those viscous queens
All the stupid papers
And the stupid magazines
Sweet dreams are made of anything
That gets you in the scene
And it feels like
I’m seventeen again
Feels like I’m seventeen…
The first Supreme to the Extreme Awards that will be held on the 17th of October is all about recognizing the people who’ve shaped the youth culture landscape by changing how the game is played — all through 17 awards we’re giving out on that special night — from Comeback of the Year to pop’s Best Love Team; from Best Blogger to Televisionaries. With Nokia as our guiding mobile light, we’ve got it all covered.
17’s a good number and a good age, of course — brimming with possibility and spewing excitement. The 17th and our 17 awards will evoke the same as well. Wanna feel what it’s like being 17 again? Flip to H-2
and relive the Supreme glory of exuberant
youth.
It’s who we are.
The odds of having an oddity strike a pose for local fashion have always been slim. The aesthetic authorities seemed to always leave the studio lighting on for an assembly line of melanin and flesh deficient beauties.
But here we’ve got Ann Casas getting calcium-crazy with a carton of milk, like she’s hollering an f-you at all the creamy-complexioned fembots with antelope-slender faces. The latte-skinned 17-year-old’s got the revolting looks to rise against the modeling mandate, all right: eyes narrowed under slightly bushy ‘brows, cheeks like protruding kiwis, thick mallard lips exposing expansive gums and a set of metallized and undersized chompers.
From beaming sweet smiles for teen girl mags like Meg and Sugar Sugar to doing the couture of duty and trotting down runways for Rajo and Inno, the wild card model’s been able to get the style realm baffled yet clamoring for more. It’s only natural for a girl who’d literally walked into the world of fashion, having been plucked by wide-eyed style guy Joel Ontong when she was 15, scurrying by a fashion show in Rockwell.
“Sabi niya parang raw ako si Alek Wek — ewan ko sa kanya pero ayos lang, magaling naman siya,” Ann exclaims, giggling nervously about her comparison to the Sudanese refugee-turned-supermodel who became international fashion’s foremost ugly beauty.
Finishing up her senior year of a high school at Sen Felipe, Ann’s got plans to major in engineering come college, even if her grades have been average what with all those absences from all the designers who’ve come a-calling. A stint in Capetown, South Africa could also be in the mag fold—along with aspirations to haul bony ass to NYC, do like Ms. Wek, and fly with a pair of Victoria’s Secret wings to the top of the top model pecking order. ‘Course, whatever Ann decides to do, we’ve got some supreme advice to give: just milk it ‘til it’s dry. — Paolo Lorenzana
