MANILA, Philippines - I am wearing my favorite Dries Van Noten shoes from his fall 2008 collection as I write this piece. They bring back a lot of good memories — mainly, the time I decided to keep this still-glorious pair instead of bringing them back to Barneys. I wasn’t sure if they were a wise acquisition since I was on a student’s budget, so I decided to test my level of affection for them by applying masking tape on the soles, throwing on some cashmere Alexander Wang, and doing my dishes.
One of my few straight guy friends spontaneously showed up at my apartment since he was in the neighborhood. He saw what I was doing, and he saw the shoes. “What the hell is going on?” He told me I was stupid. “Seriously, you’re washing plates in new shoes you’re not even sure you can afford?” I stared blankly at him, sudsy teacup in hand. “They’re beautiful; hold on to those puppies.”
That wasn’t the first time I’d indulged in glambahay, which is the practice of dressing phenomenally without the intention of leaving the confines of your or your friends’ home(s). This concept could also apply to hotel rooms, those instances where you swivel around on a fine leather chair, eating room service as your new still-smell-like-the-store purchases take on your personal smell of “OH YES I DID” glory.
Glambahay is a form of self-gratification and having fun, either alone or with your amigas. It brings amusement. The hair, the makeup, and the costume. Like in movies, glambahay allows people to be utterly ridiculous. Also, think of it as a test drive of a new look. In my freshman days, me and my friends would drunkenly practice wearing Hermès and Pucci scarves as tops to ensure that they would not come undone even while inebriated. There were instances wherein I would drape myself in my cousin’s black mink Gucci throw blanket as if it were a cape and I was a little Edie Beale.
Nevertheless, the toys of glambahay needn’t be expensive. That outrageous neckpiece you picked up at SM? Fashion it as a headpiece! Extravaganza eleganza! Recently, I was rummaging through artifacts I haven’t worn in years with my best friend because we had nothing better to do but teeter toward my closet. I put on a decade-old cap sleeve T-shirt from a Singaporean high street chain. “The cut is very Alaïa,” she said. That tee will now see the light of day once more.
Losing oneself in glambahay doesn’t have to be a solitary experience. With friends, it is a form of play for all types of people. The young, old, and the day spa-faring matronas should participate in this productive pastime. I am a doll for my gay friends. One is slapping my mask on as the other one is yanking a gown off a hanger. Then, they ask me to pose and walk around, sometimes in “just the pearls and heels.” You should always feel comfortable in your own skin.
But I must admit, I can get pretty creative on my own. Before the selfie, there was me. And my self-timer. And Chatroulette, that weird digital and voyeuristic stethoscope of a chat room that randomly matches you with other users so you can peep into their world. It was the first quarter of 2010 and it was the hottest thing at the time since—what was hot that time? I became addicted. Anyway, this is how it all started:
OMG, so I passed out for a bit then got ready. Now it’s kind of late and my friends are probably so drunk that they are unresponsive and can’t tell me where they are. So I am now discovering the joys of chatroulette.com because I don’t want to waste my makeup. F— YOU, FRIENDS!
So I urge you to try glambahay. Home is where the haute and the hot mess happen. Nothing’s funnier than seeing your homegirl inadvertently looking like Mystica or a dude singing and hiccupping Sunrise, Sunset from Fiddler on the Roof while wearing someone’s wedding dress. Shove reason out the window and get your #GGSS (gandang ganda sa sarili or, “I find myself so pretty”) on.