I’ve never felt so dead—and so alive—at the same time, as I slipped into my coffin (thank you, Kate Alvarez of Funeraria Alvarez). I had informed my bouncer to use his fingers as a coffin stopper just so I could breathe from my cozy (and lived-in) resting place. I am sure that particular coffin had been occupied by other bodies but I didn’t care; a body is but a shell and all this body wanted to do tonight was to thrill and be thrilled. Never have I been scared of the dead, more so the living.
Into the twilight of the club light, my funeral march began. I closed my eyes and crossed my arms as any deceased creature would, without the cotton balls in my nose but with a microphone on my heart. Playing living dead, I could hear gasps and murmurs and voices in my head as my bed found its resting place dead-center of the Embassy dance floor. And then I rose from my 100-year slumber. Fangs bared, I stretched out my arms and savored life again. But I was thirsty—for soda.
Instead, I got a flute of champagne. Not bad, ‘ey? Other vampires joined me, namely Sam Oh and Issa Litton, as I floated through the crowd wearing my Rajo Laurel Le Stat couture that had a train that could fill up the entire dance floor. Our eyes looked around and everyone had their own funky rendition of what a vampire should be. There was Beetlejuice, a few pirates, a Queen of the Damned, lots of queens, masked marauders, wigged-out and winged-out wanderers (a lot, and I mean, a lot, of horny people), a laughing stock of Jokers, and hordes of horrors and whore wannabes. Shrek, Captain Planet, Storm Troopers, The Hulk, Catwoman, schoolboys, schoolgirls, geishas, and French maids all snapped, cackled, and popped to the “thrilling” beats of DJ Johnnyverse, Mars Miranda, Ace, and Chewy.
If there’s something strange in your neighborhood, who you gonna call? Ghostbusters!
Halloween is best spent in Manila. Yes, I do love Boracay and our 7,106 other shores, but there’s no scare city like this city. It’s hard enough wearing your disguise when you need a whole team to prep you up to party (thank you, John Pagaduan of Shu Uemura and EJ Caro). On the other hand, the beach at night is also a fun idea but the sand can get in style’s way—unless you came as a Dyesebel. Halloween is truly the thrilla in Manila and you can stop, scare, and stare without any fear for being queer. From where I was hosting, I spotted Pia Guanio in a hot leather Catwoman catsuit. Beside her was Claudine Trillo in a virginal white Maillod with giant, feathered wings. Yin and Yang at its hottest. Aubrey Miles, after just three weeks of giving birth, was in full party mode, supported by new father Troy Montero and their whole posse of pussycats and cool cats. Meow!
Sam Oh, playing a policewoman with handcuffs and Issa, the gossip girl, spotted the costumed crème de la crème and called onto the DJ’s booth. Tara Tambunting was in full shake, rattle, ‘n’ roll regalia and even had historical facts about her character. Now that’s what I call internalization, baby. Survivor Philippines’ Kiko Rustia was in full arr-mor as Jack Sparrow that night. He elicited oohs and ahhs from the audience, for who could resist a pirate? But the one that took the cake was a visitor from Vegas (who confessed his love for Manila), who came dressed in gold…dust and a feathered headdress that seemed to resemble a devilish Thor. The winners received trips to Palawan and gift certificates from sponsors Zero Cal, Panoxyl, Seair, and Club Paradise.
Over at Fiama, Bianca Gonzales was brilliantly green as Lady Shrek while Solenn Heusaff was menacingly, marvelously maquillaged, by herself, no less. These ladies, along with some fine gentlemen, were all dressed by Fiama high priest Carlo Trillo and rebel soldier Nino Barbers.
All of Manila’s hottest nightspots were hot and happy. The night before was the Cream Halloween Ball, which was also filled to the rafters with Supreme’s fave photographer Niccolo Cosme in full drag duds. Again, in this tune town, good vibes reign. Boo! What a spook-tacular soiree this village is. On any given night, it’s all tricks and all treats. And we don’t’ even need candy to prove that.