Homoingenuity

This year has been all about catching bugs. From the garden-variety hacking cough to the more exotic killer fare, you may just be walking down the street minding your own business and not know what you will catch in that nostril of yours. But there is a certain virus, making young Filipinas the most vulnerable. What am I yakking about? It’s called homoingenuity: When you feel like you’re being clever, fashionable, in with it and downright edgy, but really you’re just a chip off the cinderblock. Unlike herpes, it doesn’t have sporadic outbreaks, rather it’s just one big sore. Just like any carrier, those who have it don’t know that they’re out to infect well-intentioned people with common taste. They feel touched by the hand of Vreeland, but really it’s just Kate Betts.

Women most especially are prone to this virus given that they carry the specific symptom of feeling fight. Men (straight) are guilty of being homogenous of the navy-and-white shirt variety, but don’t really care. Infected women have the specific virus of being homoingenius. For example, if for research’s sake you find yourself in Greenbelt one Saturday night, note how many women are wearing different variants of the same outfit: Halter/tube top, vagina hoover jeans and tan/gold stilettos. It’s like that Dunkin Donut called Choco Loco, which comes in different colors but it all tastes just the same – chocolate. While seemingly trend-aggressive femmes may think that this is catnip for every horny man swimming in happy-hour beer goggles, this outfit is the reason why sensibly fight straight women and gay guys stay at home on Saturdays. Well, this season, we can look forward to seeing more slutty Pollyannas as we see the return of what my friend calls the faux-ho look, or what I personally like to call the boo-hoo look. From the epidemic of peasant shirts, brace yourself for the attack of the scrunched and battered tiered prairie skirt. Not to be confused with the authentic boho look, which can only be carried off by certain blessed strain.

Another homoingenius manifestation is the plague of the showroom home. There are two versions of this: The Asian house that is inspired by a Thai spa and the Philippe Starck home that is actually more Philippe Starck for Target (often described as nouveau minimalist). Now, every city dweller worth their Celebrity Home magazine will hoodwink themselves that they are very hip and very now. After all, they did see this in Sex and the City (Season 4, unfortunately). I mean, it looks pristine and immaculate (the operative word being immaculate… as in conception since such ideas were conceived from nothing, rather just pilfered).

So how do you become immune to this virus? What is the Echinacea? First of all, it helps if you’re not really rich. Rich people are more prone to get this virus. You see, rich people can afford to have all the excuses for bad behavior. If you’re poor, you’re slutty, but when you’re rich, you’re free-spirited. If you’re poor, you’re crazy, if you’re rich, you’re eccentric. If you’re poor, you’re obnoxious, if you’re rich, you’re gregarious. If you’re poor, you’re a bum, if you’re rich, you’re a bon vivant. If you’re poor, you’re a bitch, if you’re rich, you’re opinionated. If you’re poor, you’re baduy, if you’re rich, you’re an individual.

Yet rich people have a Catch-22. Though they may get away with homes done assembly line-style (Punta Fuego, Highlands, you?) and still get featured in every home magazine this country of ours has to offer, if they do have kick-ass and creative homes, people brush it off as bought (or rather, professionally decorated, even if the rich folks did break a sweat and did it themselves) and without a seedling of creativity. Life is not fair – isn’t that great? I’m not saying rich people are bad. Some are good, like those who give their stuff away so that the less fortunate will have better use for it. Like when I was fixing my apartment, which is a palace of cast-offs, thanks to clueless parents, garage sales, flea markets and friends. My Asian bowl, for example, which in a rich person’s house would be perched on a stand lit by a halogen light in a niche in the living room, serves as a doggie dish. As for the Philippe Starck for Target stuff, well I’ve found it more chic to use the Swell and Marc Newson for Target stuff. There are a million and one places to get your home stuff for cheap. Take a road trip, like I did this summer, and you will discover the kamagong furniture sold at termite-eaten prices, lovely woven cloth that could be sewn into curtains and pillowcases, adorable curios, like wooden genitals that can be perched up in stands and lit with a strategically placed light like the rich people do, in the beaten sidewalks of our very own country. If you’re too lazy for an adventure, spend an afternoon with an Ikea catalogue and a 16th-century book filled with Baroque furniture and see what beautiful bastards you can dream up, and ask your local carpenter to create. You know I’m just kidding.

Dennis Lustico, one of my favorite designers, once told me that when he was just starting, he tried not to read fashion magazines because they could contaminate his vision. His work, never derivative of anything, sparks originality. That was probably the most sage advice I have ever received. Second to never kissing on a first date.

So, I guess it’s about meeting halfway. I mean, I admit I started subscribing to In Style, yes, so shoot me, and that I still care who wore what to the Oscars. But a great way of catching yourself if you’re about to get the virus is when you are getting ready for a night out or simply redoing your home, and you catch yourself saying, "Well, it’s fight, this does look like what I saw in (fill in the blanks), can’t wait to show it off." Then, save yourself. Close that In Style or divorce that frenemy whose home you are trying to emulate and secretly outdo. Because no one will care. No one will care when you blend in, but the more tragic part is when you think that you’re playing tricks on the cool barometer and that you’re being ahead of the rest, you’re actually doing it painfully wrong magazine-style. Do the hardest style challenge of all – be yourself and enjoy the flattery that comes from your frenemies imitating you.