The real FIGHT
July 11, 2004 | 12:00am
When it’s part of your job to go to fashion shows, events and those launches, you can’t help but notice the Macbethish air that stirs in potently amidst the Creed-scented breeze. In between the constant babbling and sipping of vinegared wine, it’s always fun to watch the party poopers.
And who pray tell are these so-called poopers? You can always spot them as they teeter down like the leaning tower of Pisa with their four-inch Pierre Hardy’s and bore holes on the poor grassy knoll.When you’ve seen one launch too many and the claptrap starts to sound like the Del Monte jingle, you focus your attention to something more on a personal level i.e. your insecurities. The most Shu Uemuraed belles of the ball eye each other with a studied affection laced with air kisses and high pitched "How-are-you‘s." You can only wish that their beso-besos contained subtitles which reads, "I kill your outfit!" It’s hard to make these vague blind item things. So let me just give you a better example.
For those who have lived by the gospel of Dynasty that Aaron Spelling extravaganza that made ’80s excess primetime fodder, let me use this as a historic reference. Alexis Carrington Colby Dexter (Yes, she had to marry this much to arrive) was always pitted against that whiney poodle Chrystle Carrington while all along Alexis’s real foe (or rather like faux) was the one and only Dominique Devereux who happens to be...brace yourselves – Blake Carrington’s black half-sister. Her debut out-champaged and out-caviared Alexis. But after that encounter, Alexis knew that she had a nemesis and not an enemy.
And what is a nemesis in true sosyalist lingua franca? "Your nakakagalit equal". They don’t really hate each other. As a matter of fact, they probably go to each other’s parties. And maybe even attend private sales together.
But one thing’s for sure they intend to kill each other’s outfits. They woo designers loyalties, poke fun at zygote ingénues and compete as to who skips to HK first for the new arrivals at Joyce. A sad reality yes but thoroughly entertaining if you know how to spot them.
And why is it so entertaining? It’s like watching two really well-dressed pantomimes in the loudest of settings. As the rest of the well-heeled crowd babble on, the two most silent figures captive my like-minded friend’s attention (as he recounts to me later) across from each other at opposite ends of the Atkin’s friendly buffet table. Neither touching a toxic canape, their faces break into Fendi-like coin pursed smiles and turn around to find allies. My friend, a dashing straight man, seemed to be the ultimate missionary to their fractured egos. Little did they know that though he was wearing a very neutral beige suit that crisp summer evening he was anything but neutral, he was a cunning and opportunistic double agent, hoping to score with either one of the swans whose feathers were ruffled.
"Look at what she’s wearing. She wore that already at some Christmas party! You can smell the mothballs!" Socialite number one bemoans. "Yes," my friend says "And what is she doing wearing puce for summer?" he adds for more flavor. "Exactly," socialite number one says like she found her soulmate. As she gets a bonding‚ cocktail for the both of them, Socialite number two, the slightly more discreet one approaches. "She certainly likes vintage, doesn’t she? I had one of those last year and donated it to Rainbow Bazaar."
My savvy friend noted the implications of her words. You see these are the real fight girls. Hidden from the society pages, they favor adjectives such as elusive and jet-set. And as every queen knows, there is only one throne, one crown and one fight outfit – theirs.
For those whose cultural fascinations extend beyond hemlines, having a nemesis is still a chic and smart thing to have. After all nothing fuels the human spirit like a neck-and-neck fight. Hating your nemesis is too tiring since you know that this fight will last till the winter of your years. So instead an opera of mind-games, social blackjack and the fervent prayer for that 777 to hit the slot machine of destiny act as the toys that you and your nemesis can play with. If you notice in movies the best friends are always less cute but the nemesis always much hotter.
They are there to complicate our lives ever so deliciously, that the grand banality of it all saves us from that common banality in which we languish.
In cathechism class we were taught to love our enemies. If that is so then Minnie Osmeña and Dewi Sukarno must like each other after all.
And who pray tell are these so-called poopers? You can always spot them as they teeter down like the leaning tower of Pisa with their four-inch Pierre Hardy’s and bore holes on the poor grassy knoll.When you’ve seen one launch too many and the claptrap starts to sound like the Del Monte jingle, you focus your attention to something more on a personal level i.e. your insecurities. The most Shu Uemuraed belles of the ball eye each other with a studied affection laced with air kisses and high pitched "How-are-you‘s." You can only wish that their beso-besos contained subtitles which reads, "I kill your outfit!" It’s hard to make these vague blind item things. So let me just give you a better example.
For those who have lived by the gospel of Dynasty that Aaron Spelling extravaganza that made ’80s excess primetime fodder, let me use this as a historic reference. Alexis Carrington Colby Dexter (Yes, she had to marry this much to arrive) was always pitted against that whiney poodle Chrystle Carrington while all along Alexis’s real foe (or rather like faux) was the one and only Dominique Devereux who happens to be...brace yourselves – Blake Carrington’s black half-sister. Her debut out-champaged and out-caviared Alexis. But after that encounter, Alexis knew that she had a nemesis and not an enemy.
And what is a nemesis in true sosyalist lingua franca? "Your nakakagalit equal". They don’t really hate each other. As a matter of fact, they probably go to each other’s parties. And maybe even attend private sales together.
But one thing’s for sure they intend to kill each other’s outfits. They woo designers loyalties, poke fun at zygote ingénues and compete as to who skips to HK first for the new arrivals at Joyce. A sad reality yes but thoroughly entertaining if you know how to spot them.
And why is it so entertaining? It’s like watching two really well-dressed pantomimes in the loudest of settings. As the rest of the well-heeled crowd babble on, the two most silent figures captive my like-minded friend’s attention (as he recounts to me later) across from each other at opposite ends of the Atkin’s friendly buffet table. Neither touching a toxic canape, their faces break into Fendi-like coin pursed smiles and turn around to find allies. My friend, a dashing straight man, seemed to be the ultimate missionary to their fractured egos. Little did they know that though he was wearing a very neutral beige suit that crisp summer evening he was anything but neutral, he was a cunning and opportunistic double agent, hoping to score with either one of the swans whose feathers were ruffled.
"Look at what she’s wearing. She wore that already at some Christmas party! You can smell the mothballs!" Socialite number one bemoans. "Yes," my friend says "And what is she doing wearing puce for summer?" he adds for more flavor. "Exactly," socialite number one says like she found her soulmate. As she gets a bonding‚ cocktail for the both of them, Socialite number two, the slightly more discreet one approaches. "She certainly likes vintage, doesn’t she? I had one of those last year and donated it to Rainbow Bazaar."
My savvy friend noted the implications of her words. You see these are the real fight girls. Hidden from the society pages, they favor adjectives such as elusive and jet-set. And as every queen knows, there is only one throne, one crown and one fight outfit – theirs.
For those whose cultural fascinations extend beyond hemlines, having a nemesis is still a chic and smart thing to have. After all nothing fuels the human spirit like a neck-and-neck fight. Hating your nemesis is too tiring since you know that this fight will last till the winter of your years. So instead an opera of mind-games, social blackjack and the fervent prayer for that 777 to hit the slot machine of destiny act as the toys that you and your nemesis can play with. If you notice in movies the best friends are always less cute but the nemesis always much hotter.
They are there to complicate our lives ever so deliciously, that the grand banality of it all saves us from that common banality in which we languish.
In cathechism class we were taught to love our enemies. If that is so then Minnie Osmeña and Dewi Sukarno must like each other after all.
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