yours in the name of Style


i was warned vehemently. germaine even said that she had friends who bothered themselves with going to the parlor before having their id picture taken. in some tribes, they believe that whenever pictures are taken of them, a part of them is robbed--that their spirits are captured. i believe this as well. when a picture is taken of you, you during that moment is forever captured. it is a way of cheating on the fleeting nature of life. you will never be the same person that was captured on that particular frame.

back in ateneo, i always changed my id picture. usually when i change my haircut. (yes, i still feel as though i'm haired.) all i had to do was declare my id lost and pay the cashier. Once, i even brought my favourite picture. the good manong in the id room scanned it and changed the background to white. voila! an id with a really nice picture of me on it. (yeah, in that particular picture, i still had a lot of hair.) so this was where i was coming from that faithful friday morning.

having said all this, i neglected the warnings of my friends--those of them who know the state university way of life. i rolled out of bed, crawled all the way to the car and clawed the remnants of my hair to similate some order. there was no flashing light or whatso.

1. i got drunk during the after event party. (my mantra for that night: since i am not an important figure in this event, i'm here for the free booze.)
2. i got a nefarious hangover when i woke up the following day. somehow, midway through the party, i was tricked into gulping down pure vodka. i was a willing victim.
3. i was trying to give myself time to get over sarah myer's terrycloth bathrobe which she wore as a coat for the party. no, this wasn't a pyjama party. the party was held under the stars, on a rooftop. with mobile and all. i just realized now that i would not get over this unless i exorcise myself by hitting the mall with just a towel around my waiste.

hence.

i would be the first one to tell anyone that i am a dits when it comes to the ultimate superficial human representation--that is, fashion. not that i painstakingly study catalogues of the latest collections or anything near that. i see clothing as an art everybody practices. after all, the best way to showcase your own version of your best self is through what you wear. (yeah, i too think that the last sentence is vague.)

the style awards was held in the nbc tent in fort bonifacio. although i missed the red carpet and the cocktails, as well as the first few major awards (because i was too busy laughing in the moviehouse--kris aquino should win best comic actress in a horror film), i was at least in time for orange and lemons's performance. they were absolutely smashing.

but the real treat that evening was seing lotte again after a looooooong time. lotte is 1/3 of my thesis group, and god knows how thesis could make life-long friends out of those you get to gripe with while painstakingly completing it. we didn't get a very high grade, actually, but the consolation is that at least we learned. we opted to do a heavily academic piece, a digression from the usual creativity ab communication is known for. and the moment i wrapped my fingers around the spine of our bound work, i swear to god that i gained respect for myself three times more than all the instances that i got a's combined.

it was that nefarious.

anyhow, so i got to see lotte again. in fact, she was the one who invited me to come. lotte's life would be a glaring contrast to mine. hers is one of progress and direction. she had me sit with her in the press cordon area where i had a spectacular view of richard gutierrez's nape. i thank the lord that i was convent-bred because i would have been able to reach out and caress it if i wanted to.

but the thing that bothers me up to this very minute is this:

which literally outshone which: the mini mirrorballs (lots of it) suspended above our heads occasionally beamed with green laserlights, or tessa prieto-valdes?

posted by carl @ 3:04 AM