In the land of khaki JA

Everyone’s so monochromatic in Manila," said a Japanese friend. "All the same boring blue and khaki."

"That is not true!" I replied, outraged by her underhanded insult. "People dress up here all the time –and in insane colors too!"

"Oh, of course," she answered politely, carefully noting my navy blue Adidas T-shirt and khaki skirt.

"Are you mocking me?" I said. "Because if you’ve got something to say, you’d better say it to my face."

Luckily, someone interrupted our conversation before I could get any weirder.

As I sat in front of my closet eyeing my line of khaki skirts – ranging from a very interesting taupe to an adventurous tan –I couldn’t help but wonder if I had reacted a wee bit unreasonably to my Japanese friend’s observations.

What is it with dressing differently here anyway? You dress adventurously and everyone from the cigarette vendor to the mommies in the mall stare at you like some pastry chef gone mad, while all the fashionistas twitter and mutter bitchily, "Who the hell does she think she is, anyway?"

Really, like it’s illegal to dress weird.

On a recent trip to Seoul, I saw so many gorgeous Koreans decked out in bright yellow and neon orange – and they looked hot. Why couldn’t we do that here?

"Because if they wore colors like that, they’d be mistaken for MMDA," said my ever so practical friend. "If the city smog doesn’t blanket those colors to begin with."

I rolled my eyes. Was my Japanese friend right? Are we really that boring? As I slipped on yet another blue T-shirt, this time from GAP, over a sedate light brown skirt and a pair of comfy khaki sandals, I felt a little annoyed. So, what if we don’t dress up in tacky bright colors? The only practical thing to wear in this uncomfortable tropical weather anyway is a bikini and a straw hat. Anything else – like those funky knee-high socks the Japanese love to wear or those wacky layered ensembles you see in foreign magazines – make people here look like a yeti at the beach.

While walking in Shangri-La mall looking for an ATM, I caught sight of this guy dressed in an orange jumpsuit. "Oh, this guy would be perfect for my article," I whispered to my friend as we oh-so-casually walked in his direction. "I want to take his picture!"

"So, just ask him," my friend Bea Villamor replied in a what’s-the-big-deal tone of voice.

"Wouldn’t that be weird? Like me just coming up to him and asking for his photo? Nobody does that here."

"Oh, for God’s sake." She walks over to orange jumpsuit guy and calmly asks, "Excuse me, sir, but can we take your photo?"

A bit weirded out but clearly flattered by my friend’s request, he immediately stood up and posed for me.’"What’s this for, anyway?" he asks after, puzzled.

"Oh, I’m doing this piece on how no one here dresses weird," I gushed. My friend’s eyebrow went up.

"I mean, you look so fabulous in your orange jumpsuit," I said nicely.

"We should go," my friend said, pulling me away.

As we walked away, I couldn’t help but feel a little smug.

It’s not all khaki and navy in this country. We’ve got orange, too. So there.

* * *

Do you wear orange, too? Email me at ohbea@rocketmail.com and tell me about it.