| The Complete Blue Book |
[May. 19th, 2009|04:47 pm] |
I've uploaded new content on my blogspot "archived work" site. The posts includes interviews with Roberto Cavalli, Pucci and Julian Schnabel. Including pieces on finding the perfect summer wardrobe.
Check it out at:
thecompletebluebook.blogspot.com/
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| The Blue Book |
[May. 6th, 2009|03:05 pm] |
Dear LJ Friends:
I know that I've been missing. Moving to HK, finding my life partner, Us moving to Singapore, me starting a new magazine made me neglect this journal and the friends that I have made here. I apologize for that and for future abandonment as I am still swamped with work. And I'm exhausted too.
I am making this post to let you know that I started to create an online catalogue of my published work before my memory or my computer hard drive fails me - I am betting my memory will betray me first.
So if you have time, kindly check it out and let me know your thoughts:
www.thecompletebluebook.blogspot.com
It's still a work in progress and hopefully it will come to resemble the vision I had in mind.
Thanks |
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| Will I miss Hong Kong? |
[Nov. 29th, 2007|12:04 am] |
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Bruce is being transferred to Singapore at the end of January and I managed to secure a transfer for me too. Wow, we're really moving... |
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| What's In A Name? |
[Nov. 22nd, 2007|11:47 am] |
What’s In A Name
I never cared much for the word “partner” as a term of endearment. I find it impersonal and boardroom-ish especially when one is talking about a loved one. We have a friend who likes to introduce Bruce as my “partner” and I cringe at every mention of the word. Partner.. hmmm… I don’t like that its root word “part” also means to move away from someone, to depart and to divide. Tell me where is the love in that?
I don’t like “boyfriend” either. I have never been comfortable with it and I can’t explain why. It sounds so heterosexual and pubescent. Significant other is still vague to me and lacks emotions and ardor. What I have with Bruce is special and I want a word that best encapsulates all that he is and all that he represents. Anyone has any idea?
***
Bruce has taken to calling me sweetie and there are days when it drives me to the roof because he uses it to address everyone. I want a term of endearment that’s solely mine, not something you toss around at anyone like an unwanted fruitcake. Sweetie to a guy who visits us every now and then from Australia. Sweetie to his friend in New York. Sweetie to old pals. Sweetie to me...hmm… I don’t like the sound of that. It’s so generic and casual. I want something mine and mine alone. Something intimate. |
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| My Essay Ran In The Papers Yesterday |
[Oct. 15th, 2007|06:01 pm] |
Confessions of A Fashion Editor
When I was still working as fashion editor in Manila, I often dreamt of going to the big shows in New York, London, Milan and Paris and to experience firsthand the madness and the sartorial highs of Fashion Week. I wanted to be one of the first to see the new collections, to spot the front row celebrities and to write about the clothes. Style.com for all its exhaustive coverage of the shows couldn’t quite capture the feeling and the atmosphere of being in the thick of the fashion world’s month long extravaganza.
Now that I am based in Hong Kong and working on two magazines on fashion reportage, I have joined the flock that moves from one city to the next in search of trends, lust worthy accessories and new creative geniuses. I have become part of this group that makes the journey four times a year for both the women’s and men’s collection despite missed flight connections, freezing temperatures and heat waves, putting new meaning to the term fashion victim. I have also exchanged but a few words with people whose work I admire – Cathy Horyn of the New York Times, Suzy Menkes of the International Herald Tribune, the photographer Mario Testino and the designers Stefano Gabbana and Domenico Dolce, Donatella Versace and John Galliano. And from my second, third and sometimes even fourth row seat, ogled at the sight of celebrities I only used to read about – Anna Wintour, Andre Leon Talley, Carine Roitfeld, Anna Piaggi, Naomi Campbell, Rupert Everett, Stella Tenant – the list could go on. And while all this is happening I often end up pinching myself, unable to believe that - for the lack of a more modest term - I am living my dream.
With the conclusion of another fashion cycle, I return to the office and flick through my notes and odd sketches, futile attempts at rendering the more outstanding looks from the runway, really. (I should have sat with the very talented Ivar Aseron when he offered to teach me fashion illustration). I look at my notes and realize that I jotted down equal parts criticism and random thoughts and observations on the mood and the spirit before and after the shows, a fashion mise en scene, if you will.
Observations that range from the obvious - how a riff of Rihanna’s song Please Don’t Stop The Music equated the bouncy step of the models at the D&G show filled with Pollyana meets Penelope Tree looks complete with flower prints, tiered bell sleeves and patchwork denim or how Roberto Cavalli, perhaps to make-up for the hour and half long delay, defied convention and showed up on the runway and entertained questions from the world press as models coming from the previous show dashed backstage for hair and make-up – to the quirky and intriguing – how the fashion flock seem to favour Moleskine notebooks, or how the Sartorialist actually disappoints in person or why the model Irina Lazareanu was sitting at a coffee shop across from the Gucci venue while the show was in progress. Perhaps she didn’t make the casting? Anna Wintour, for all her supposed diva behavior, was punctual to all the shows despite the early call times and heavy downpour.
What came out of the Milan shows? A surprising collection from Roberto Cavalli, which had none of his usual Euro trash aesthetic. He showed frocks that morphed into flowers perhaps inspired by the young American designers Thakoon and Rodarte. The trio of white dresses on Natasha Poly, Racquel Zimmerman and Freha Beja Erichssen, which opened the show, transported the Cavalli customer to the French countryside, picking lavender blooms instead of downing Dom Perignon on a super yacht in Cap d’Antibes. The same three models starred in a David Lynch-directed television spot for Gucci’s new fragrance, which was debuted before models in combinations of white, black and yellow sashayed down the runway to the sounds of Strangers In The Night. Transparency and lightness were echoed at Jil Sander where Raf Simons layered rectangular cuts of organza to make a dress. Tomas Maier at Bottega Veneta expounded on the themes from his fall/winter collection, exquisite draping and surprise darting on dresses, minimalist luxury. Circles, a theme previously explored on by Inno Sotto (see Mandy Santos’s Philippine Tatler Mother’s Day photos), were resonant in Karl Lagerfeld’s collection for Fendi be they oversized, multi-hued appliqués or optical illusion prints on full skirts. Donatella Versace mixed the Safari look with the brilliant colours of the flowers in the rainforest.
What happens now that the shows are over? I would have to pore over photographs, visit the showrooms to get a better view of the collections, and discuss with photographers the best way to photograph the clothes while remaining true to the visions of the designers. Should we photograph models on a flying trapeze to convey the lightness of spring’s new offerings? Or should we set them up like art canvases much like the idea behind Dolce & Gabbana’s paint splattered pouf gowns? Through all this I will be thinking of the next round shows (January for the men’s collection and haute couture) and I will be just as thrilled and star-struck as I was on my first show ever. |
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| non-event |
[Aug. 21st, 2007|12:18 pm] |
i turned 29 on sunday. ugh.
p.s. i got a nice tiffany watch as a birthday present though |
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| summer |
[Jul. 21st, 2007|08:49 pm] |
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off to milan, venice, amalfi, capri and florence. be back in three weeks!! |
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| on his birthday |
[Jun. 27th, 2007|10:43 pm] |
I’ve often wondered how our future will be like, how things will be 10 or 20 years from now. He’ll most likely have lost all his hair and be slightly rounder around the edges. I will probably have a lot more grey hair with a couple more lines around my eyes, and a pound or two heavier than my ideal weight, but fabulous still nonetheless. I like to think that we will still be together. I like to think that we will be together for life, temper flares and all.
It’s actually rather difficult living with Bruce. In fact, it may be easier to win the Iron Man triathlon without any training than to survive living with him. He can brush you aside, burst your bubble and isolate you with a single word leaving you drowning and gasping for air even if you were an excellent swimmer. He’ll make you chase him for affection and you may just win him over if you had Lance Armstrong’s pedal pushing powers. But that’s not always a guarantee. Try getting his attention when he’s playing sudoku. You can run in circles all day and he still wouldn’t look up. Of course I am fault finding.
But on his good days however, he can be charming. That’s how I fell in love with him. He charmed me. Little did I know that it was all just window dressing. But seriously though, Bruce has a way of winning you over. Try as I might to stay angry at him after a fight, I couldn’t, especially when he acts like a child and gives me all sorts of faces much like a naughty little boy trying to ask for another bar of chocolate. Maybe that’s how he keeps young, by not losing the little boy inside him. There are actually moments when I get to glimpse the boy that he was, from the way he rolls his eyes, the mischievous smile and the strange sound he makes when he laughs.
People often ask me what made me fall in love with him and I would always say that he makes me laugh, that he gets my episodes of shallowness and my flights of fancy, and that he really is a good man. That despite my tempestuousness and stubbornness, he is still sticking around and that is measure enough of what kind of man he is. The bulging biceps and the broad chest are just added bonuses. |
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| my early summer |
[May. 21st, 2007|06:53 pm] |
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going to greece with bruce on thursday for two weeks. very excited |
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| fashion and frolics |
[Apr. 25th, 2007|01:56 pm] |
our fashion-themed housewarming party was a success last weekend. B and I dressed as Dolce and Gabbana and our friends dressed as all sorts of characters from carrie bradshaw to robert de niro to bianca jagger to james bond to angelina jolie replete with her babies. everybody also did the fashion walk off which was the true highlight of the party.
see all the photos at www.flickr.com/photos/bluebruce |
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| HELP!! 911!!! |
[Mar. 22nd, 2007|07:06 pm] |
Hi All
I am throwing a fashion party and I want to play songs that mentions designers or fashion labels in the lyrics and I have only a list of 8 songs so far. Would love it if you can give me some input. Thanks in advance. |
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| L-O-V-E amounts to 7 points in Scrabble |
[Feb. 23rd, 2007|03:46 pm] |
We’ve often joked that Scrabble would be the root cause of the dissolution of our relationship. But months after I brought home the Jack Spade travel Scrabble set, we are still together, give or take a few scraped egos. (We’ve also invested on a deluxe set and a dictionary that weighs like the New York City phone book.)
Scrabble has become a big part of our lives now. We’ve taken the game set on trips with us. First to Boracay, then to Singapore and only last week to Koh Samui where we played while lounging on the beach sipping cocktails and on the poolside with me taking quick cooling dips in the pool in between turns. On flights to and from our holidays, we would bring out the set and play when there weren’t any good movies. Once on a flight back to Hong Kong I dropped one of the tiles on the floor and it went under our seats and it took minutes before we were able to locate it. Horrors!
Given both our competitive nature, losing a game is not an option. But many times, by sheer luck and given that I churn and spool words for a living, I end up winning which doesn’t always go well with Bruce. And so, I’ve taken to losing a game or two every now and then, passing on a triple word score with a double letter point on the Z or using all seven letters on a double word block.
I once dated a guy who said that love means morning breath. If you can passionately kiss someone immediately after waking up then that is love. I also remember seeing a movie saying that love means sacrificing the last bite and that includes giving up that deliciously orgasmic last piece of chocolate truffle for him. Fake losing at Scrabble to someone you love, no matter how much you love to win, should be part of the list, and that means resisting the urge to add J-A-C-Q-U-A-R to his D even if J sits on a triple letter score point plus the fifty points to top it off. Now, that is love! |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 14th, 2007|05:02 pm] |
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happy valentine's day to everyone |
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| Storm Signals |
[Feb. 7th, 2007|05:23 pm] |
There have been moments when I knew for sure that it was all over. That it was time to sever the ties and to break free from each other. The past couple of months have been difficult, tensed and emotionally draining, like falling through cracks even though you’ve done your best to avoid them.
Given my penchant for sad love songs, Tell Me On A Sunday ranks high up on my list of break-up music. Andrew Lloyd Weber was on to something when he factored in flying trapezes, circus rings, tree covered parks and zoos with chimpanzes when he wrote the song. Somehow they help alleviate the pain and make the experience less heart wrenching.
When we went for a Sunday walk about a month ago after a spat, it seemed like the perfect moment to end the relationship. It was a sunny winter afternoon and we strolled through the park in silence. There were monkeys and birds and winter blooms. On a bench adjacent to the fountain, the song played in my head telling me that if we must part ways, right there and then was the perfect moment. Exactly how I have imagined break-ups to be – that the surrounding beauty would, if only temporarily, shield me from the pain. But we survived that.
Last weekend in bed, after a sadness ridden Saturday, we were close to giving each other tearful goodbyes. I told him I wanted to go home, that in choosing to love him and to be with him, I have been disassociated from my family. I broke down. “You have been so sad. You shouldn’t have to choose,” he cried. I’ve never seen a man cry like that before and part of me died because I didn’t want to burden him with guilt for the strained relationship between me and my father.
It’s amazing how we have weathered close calls like these. Despite arguments to the fact that the odds against us are strong, we are still together. This is what great love stories are made of, isn’t it? The triumph of emotional connection between two people no matter the difficulties. He is a good man and I am not letting go. |
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| Because We Love Gifts |
[Feb. 2nd, 2007|02:31 pm] |
Last Christmas (or shall I say Chrismukkah. B is Jewish) because it was our first, B and I went crazy with the gift giving process. It was mostly I, actually. I sent him my wish list, 12 in all, for the 12 days of Christmas. I also forwarded the list to a good friend of mine to help him shop. And I took it upon myself to find him gifts that he hopefully would love. I told him I would give him 8, for the 8 days of Hannukah. Because we were flying to my home in Manila, we did Christmas dinner and we opened our presents on the 23rd. What follows is the gift list.
From me to him:
1. Wine Journal
2. Book on how to choose wine
3. Louis Vuitton wallet
4. Louis Vuitton European City Guides
5. Adidas runners
6. Dior Homme cufflinks
7. Louis Vuitton necktie
8. La Prairie moisturizer
9. Life size telescope
10. An original Winnie The Pooh print from the 1920s
From him to me:
1. Louis Vuitton agenda
2. Roger Federer’s racket
3. Polo shirt from Ralph Lauren
4. Seasons 1 to 6 of Gilmore Girls
5. Globe Trotter luggage
6. Balenciaga coffee table book
7. 80G video iPod
8. Bathrobe from the Four Seasons Spa
9. Amy Sedaris book (a surprise)
10. Tennis sessions with pro (a surprise)
11. A case of mini Moet & Chandon (a surprise)
Needless, we went a little overboard. And now that Valentine’s is around the corner, I got him a Nikon Digitial camera which can upload photos to the computer wireless and allows you to email them straight away (highly recommended by men.style.com), which is perfect as he is taking me to the newly opened Four Seasons in Koh Samui, Thailand for Valentines. What better way to cherish our memories together, n’est-ce pas? |
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