Relatives will wonder why, at a family vacation in Bangkok, I head straight to the hooker shops and tranny lingerie stores. "They have the most vivid patent leather corsets," I say. And the bejeweled bra and panty set? "Perfect for a burlesque shoot," I murmur as I reach for it from the store’s window display. My parents have learned to just shrug off the googley-eyed stares of less than well-meaning relatives of a more conservative bent. "It’s what makes her happy," my mother says in my defense when I proudly show off an S&M-inspired zip-up suit with a décolleté cut past the navel. And what appeared to be patent leather turned out to be rubber. "Easier to clean," I said proudly as an aging uncle winced. No doubt he considered my fashionable leanings to be foolhardy.
But successful freelance stylists like Charmaine Palermo, who’ve parlayed their love of shopping and knack for turning out clothes in different styles into a career, have proven that not every big money-making job requires a business degree and accounting skills.
Metro associate fashion editor Corine Alegre, who put together the cover look, has managed to amass a sizeable number of accoutrements that never fail to complete a look. Printed and textured tights, satin gloves, oversized accessories – these are often part of a stylist’s bag o’tricks.
For the Rockwell exhibit, a photo bonanza shot by everyone’s favorite lensman Paolo Pineda, Corine looked to rather unusual inspiration. "My inspiration was Volta," she says laughing. "And maybe one of Charlie’s angels."
One sunny afternoon, 16 stylists converged on the basement parking lot of Power Plant Mall to each shoot a single layout. Under the heading of Luis Espiritu, veteran stylist and creative director of Metro magazine, stylists – freelance and publication-bound – picked the Independent Lifestyles section clean of anything photogenic.
Meg magazine’s fashion editor Peewee Reyes went for a waylaid schoolgirl look, her louche indecency (the model’s blouse was unbuttoned to the waist) tempered by a staid tie and cinched with a vivid red belt.
Urban hip-hop was the subject of Charmaine Palermo’s piece. She dressed model Ingrid Santos-Holmes in a street-worthy hoodie and a pair of preppy of plaid pants.
Michelle Pamintuan, who contributes to Metro, opted for the serene glam of an old Hollywood star, layering a sheer white blouse over a black bra with a yellow dress.
Tatler fashion editor Karla Alindahao layered black and white pieces over each other and then added a pair of vampy red pumps to accent the outfit.
Kym de Guzman, the latest addition to YStyle’s fashionable fold, channeled an indie folk princess, dressing her model in a denim dress, red tights and a bright wig. An electric guitar and a hat filled with change finished the look.
Luis Espiritu played with volume, dressing both models in a throwback to a faded era of wartime ‘40s. Decked out in chapeaus and the cutest pooches this side of town, Luis mixed layers in tweedy monochromatic hues of taupe and brown, and black and white.
For Mega fashion editor Patrick Ty, the haphazard layering popular this fall is the look of the season. He brought the ragtag look of an arty gypsy to life with excessive layers of dress over dress over knitted sweater and cotton vest. His final touch? A skull cap embellished with a large crucifix brooch and bangles. Lots and lots of bangles.
For my layout, I played with the idea of a lazy debutante, too sophisticated to have qualms about something as trivial as a prom. "She’s effortlessly chic," I told my fellow stylists as we bonded over sandwiches and caffeine-rich sodas one long afternoon in the parking lot while Paolo Pineda slaved in the corner shooting one layout after another. "She’ll just throw on a sweater and dress and she’s done."
"In fact, her date could be the lady guard." I added, making my story more complex as I waited for my turn to shoot. "She’s so blasé about the whole process of looking for an acceptable date for her WASP-ish Ralph Lauren-clad clan, she went in the opposite direction."
"She could be a lesbian debutante," I deadpanned.
It was only weeks later, when a friend congratulated me on my layout and its odd title that I realized the joke was on me. There, labeled above the photo of my charmingly-dressed model with an Edwardian coif, were the words, "lesbian debutante."
No one had realized I was joking.
Well, it’s like my friends always tell me when I get stressed over a shoot. "Lighten up, it’s just faaashion!"
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