Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Cuff Links: Lots of Flash, For Not Much Cash

Hello, kids! Do you miss the fasyon on this blog as much as I do? It has been such a long week, after all, and I'd be crazy if I didn't tell you that I've actually been sprucing up my wardrobe lately. The best part of this is that some of the new treats in my closet have cost me practically next to nothing - some of it has been as simple as asking Mama and Papa Mei for stuff that they don't like to wear any more.

Take, for example, cuff links.



When I realized that my French-cuffed Old Navy shirt no longer had the buttons that held the cuffs together, I immediately asked PapaMei where I could get cuff links in Manila. Turns out that he no longer wears his own cufflinks, owing to the fact that he's been retired for more than ten years now and no longer wears the suits he used to wear to work for 20+ years. (His apparel of choice, post-retirement: Reyn Spooner aloha shirts.)

I like these round ones because they're pretty simple and label-free; the black and gold motif just goes with everything.

Then there are the cuff links that PapaMei almost forgot were his:


I have no idea how PapaMei ended up with this pair, which is decorated with the Australian coat of arms. (Okay, I do know that he has been there more than once. Maybe it was a gift?) There is, after all, a part of me that feels pretentious for wearing these without having set foot in Australia at all. But you know what? I totally don't care. Call it blasphemy, but I actually like the fact that there are kangaroos and emus on these cuff links... and the navy blue stands out so nicely against the black-and-red stripes on my shirt. So rock'n'roll.

Saturday, August 08, 2009

A Few Thoughts on The Imeldific

Okay, since I've been blogging too much about Philippine politics lately*, I should give some equal time to the other side.

We're talking about Imelda Marcos here.

I try to be fair to her, because I do have friends who love and admire her, but it's impossible. Obviously, there is no love lost between me and the woman - no thanks to her husband, the resulting fallout from his regime, and the scuttlebutt I've heard from people who have met her when she lived in Honolulu. (Not very nice, is what I'm saying.)

Even when I take the politics out of the equation, I still can't say I have a lot of love for her - pity, perhaps, because I don't really see her as the powerful woman that she thinks she is. Let me put it this way: When your own children personally attend the funeral of your own greatest political rival and enemy, it doesn't make you exempt from further scrutiny.

But enough about the personal demons of Imelda, perceived or otherwise. Let's talk about the (few) positives of being Imelda Marcos, like her support of fine arts in the Philippines, and being born with a pretty face and great hair. Let's talk about her greatest claim to fame: The Shoes.



On the one hand, the collection itself can be seen as a slap in the face to the shoe industry in the Philippines, because... seriously, people, take it from me when I say that Pinoy-made shoes will give you the best value for your money. On the other hand, I think it's a great idea that the same shoe industry should also celebrate Imelda's love of fine art and quality footwear by exhibiting her collection in the Marikina Shoe Museum, along with pairs worn by other historical figures in the Philippines. Yes, I think it's a great idea for people to see The Shoes.

Fine, I still think she's crazy for using other people's hard-earned tax money to buy shoes - and I do question her taste at times (*ahem* rumored platform heels with built-in disco lights *ahem*) but I don't blame her for wanting so much of them - Ferragamos and Chanels and Givenchys, oh my! (And can I just say here that I share the same shoe size as the Imeldific herself? Even though my feet might actually be wider and chubbier.)

There's just something so excessive and so '80s about all that extravagance that I feel, as a shoe fiend, is quite understandable. Heck, if I was given the chance to buy as many gorgeous high-quality shoes as I liked and wanted, I wouldn't just take the chance and run with it - I'd rebuild my entire house just to get storage for them!

Then again, Imelda's shoes are like Michael Jackson's videos from the Nineties: impressive and well-made, all right, yet so fraught with so much unintended historical and psychological subtext.

Had this collection belonged to somebody that didn't carry as much metaphorical baggage as Imelda did - say, if Michael Jackson himself had owned as many pairs - I might actually be impressed. Even if I were to take the political ramifications out of it, I'd still be left wondering how she ended up with all of them. Imelda always talked about wanting to be surrounded by beauty - were the shoes, like her patronage of the arts, an extension of that desire? And if so, did that desire compensate for something else... an unheeded cry for help, an unspoken act of passive aggression? (Really, there are a lot of other things that she could've bought with that money. Like, say, dinner at Le Cirque, or a Park Avenue condominium.)

If there was, indeed, a hole in her heart, was all that beauty enough to keep it filled?

What I'm trying to say here is this: Sometimes a pair of designer shoes should just be a pair of designer shoes, regardless of their number.

****

*EDITOR'S NOTE: Domesticity will return to its regularly scheduled beauty and fashion programming next week.

Friday, August 07, 2009

The Case for the Basics: CITIZENSHIP

Forgive me for exchanging my makeup kit for a soapbox right now, but I must.

It has been a week since the death of Corazon Aquino, and two days since we finally laid her to rest. We have cried the tears, and wiped them dry (to paraphrase the words of Anne Murray), and some of us are still devastated for losing such a gracious woman.

The questions are still inevitable: What next, then? What's the best way to honor the Aquino legacy?

For inspiration, I have to hand it to another former Head of State - Mr. Jimmy Carter, in the opening remarks of his Farewell Address to the American people in 1981 - to voice this opinion better than I can.
...I will lay down my official responsibilities in this office -- to take up once more the only title in our democracy superior to that of president, the title of citizen.

Now, a few of you here - regardless of where you are in the world - will be reading this and thinking that there are powerful ways, honest ways, of exercising your citizenship. Some of you are probably thinking about taking the streets like we Filipinos did during the original EDSA Revolution in 1986. Some of you believe in becoming the squeaky wheel that gets the grease, by thinking that raising your voice will bring about the change you want and deserve in this lifetime.

You know what? That is very well and good. That is your opinion, and for as long as this blog remains unblocked and uncensored, I will not prevent you from exercising your right to do so. That does not mean, however, that yours is the only choice.

For the rest of us who are not yet called to act as squeaky wheels, I have a very simple but honest solution.

Yes, VOTING.

Voting isn't sexy, and it certainly is never fun. Voting in a national election is never going to be as exciting as voting for your next American Idol. Voting, however, does make you a smarter person for choosing your own leaders, as part of your own right to freedom under your citizenship.

"But Meimei," you tell me, "I don't want to vote! Nobody I like ever wins, and everyone who's running is so meh to me! It's all rigged anyway, and everyone cheats!"

Well, let me tell you a thing or two about civic duty.

I may have been a child back in 1986 - heck, I was only in kindergarten when Ninoy Aquino's assassination interrupted my after-school cartoons - but that didn't mean I knew nothing about what was happening around me. I didn't like what the creepy old guy with lupus and his weaselly minions were doing to my innocence, and everyone else's; it wasn't that hard to see how other people's daddies weren't coming home, knowing that bad things happened to people who disagreed with the government.

I didn't know from policy, and I certainly didn't end up marching on the streets... but my siblings and I already knew that our hope was with the little lady in the yellow dress, the widow of the white-suited man who died on the tarmac. Reconciliation, democracy, peace: those were the big words of the day in 1986, and we took it all to heart.

Say what you will about the Aquino years, but at least we, as a nation, were able to breathe - able to speak our minds and hold our leaders accountable to their words and actions, after so many years of martial law. We, the people, had a president who trusted our judgment, without insulting our intelligence. For once, we had dignity.

Flash forward twelve years later, to the sight of an increasingly jaded Meimei, now an adult in Honolulu. Nothing at this point was going to comfort me - not the budget cuts made by our Republican governor, nor the growing economic crisis in the midst, nor the endless chatter from both sides of the proverbial aisle. It was dawning on me that there were one too many dead soldiers in the news, one too many companies going out of business, one too many warnings about the environment.

(I could go on and on, but my blood pressure is rising... so let's just say that anyone who knew me during this period of my life - the ones who really knew me - would know the real depth of my anger here. This is a wound that, sadly, has yet to heal.)

Again, I was not in a position of power, since I was not an American citizen. And I'm obviously not one of those people who thinks that Barack Obama can do no wrong, because there are times when I do disagree with him.

That did not stop me from feeling so much pride and joy for my fellow kama`aina, and the people who turned out in droves to support his journey to the White House.

Suddenly even the most apolitical and disenfranchised among my friends were registering to vote and following the news. Suddenly there were bigger discussions about history and precedence, and what it truly means to be a citizen of one's country. Suddenly those memories of the 2000 election - which Scribey and I watched in a drunken stupor years before - had become too painful, too uncomfortable.

In the fall of 2008, I found myself witnessing - again - a revolution of sorts, waged not with guns and threats and intimidation, but with ballots and Twitters and cold reckoning. It certainly felt like 1986 again, or at least it did to me.

And I, for one, was truly glad.

Of all the lessons that I had learned between 1986 and 2008, this stuck out to me the most: You cannot challenge an election that had none of your participation.

I may not have voted during those times, but I felt that I had to do something about my world - and writing my little letters-to-TPTB meant nothing if I only had my opinion to back me up. I may have been a "citizen of the world," but the Obama campaign taught me that real citizenship and civic duty meant taking responsibility for any decision that leads to change. My vote, after all, was my leverage as a citizen - leverage that I can wield, not just to support my leader, but to hold my own government accountable for any mistakes made in leadership... regardless of who wins, or whoever rises to power eventually.

I already know, moving back to the Philippines, that corruption is widespread. I already know that, if the presidential election does take place in 2010, there will be a lot of cloak-and-dagger machinations that will prevent me from electing my choice of leaders. That is why I decided, after so many years, to finally register myself as an honest-to-goodness Voter, starting with this coming presidential election. Now that I am a Philippine resident once again, I now must use my right and my leverage, as a citizen of the Republic, to make this election happen - not just for me, but for my whole country.

You think the government will cancel the elections? The heck they will - if there are not enough voters who have registered in the first place. You think that your candidate will never win? Guess again: Whoever ends up being in charge will STILL remain accountable to ordinary people like you and me.

And here's another thing: our taxes, after all, are what still pays for their plans, good or bad. I don't care who you vote, or how you go about it... but you do want to know where your money goes after the taxman comes to get it, right? Really, if we all voted with our wallets alone, we would all be charged with tax evasion in some form or another by now. Fact, plain and simple.

So please, for the love of sweet mangoes, don't ever, EVER think for a minute that your vote will never count, even if - and especially if - somebody else ends up choosing your leaders for you. By refusing to exercise your own capacity for democracy, you are committing the ultimate act of elitism, selfishness, vanity, and greed.

Philippine citizens, your last day for voter registration is on December 15, 2009, and voters for the US primaries in 2010 should be registered by May of that very year; everyone else with elections forthcoming should start consulting your local government offices ASAP. Don't even think for a moment that living overseas will keep you away from the ballot box, either - that's what absentee voting is for, and you must contact your nearest embassy or consulate for details on how to do just that.

Think about it, read about it, pray about it - do what you can, because I can't make your mind up for you. But whatever you do, don't ever think that you will never count at all as a citizen.

Whatever you need to do, do it now - because there won't be a revolution without you.

Wednesday, August 05, 2009

From the Vaults of Hacienda de Meimei

I must remind you first that I am in no way belittling myself, or the choices I made, during the times when these pictures were taken. As you can see here, I actually had a very lovely childhood and I can honestly say that I was as happy as I seemed to be in these pictures. But, c'mon: it was the 1980s...

Oh dear. Oh dear. Where do I begin? Well, for starters, I don't remember if this picture was taken in Hong Kong (Ocean Park?) or Singapore (Sentosa?). This explains the Red Army hat that I'm wearing in this picture, which clashes horribly with the parachute jacket and the baby pink (velour?) jogging pants. And even then, I'm sure that I wore the hat because I was covering up some heinous bangs, since MamaMei used to be in charge of bang trims back in the day - we didn't have any hair experts coaching us through that kind of deal. I can't deny that I was a happy kid in that outfit, though. I'd give anything to get away with the kind of coolness and confidence that I had when I was the age I was in this picture.

Now, this picture makes me want to snorgle my younger self and pinch her little cheeks. If only I had my own children so that they could turn up as adorable and huggable as this! SO. CUTE. (Except for the bangs. Oh no.) Unfortunately, this particular photograph hasn't survived the ravages of time... and neither have those bowl-cut bangs, which make me look like SNL's Target Lady. The shirt says "HAWAII 85" - which means that the shirt was purchased way, way before I up and moved there in the mid-'90s... prescient, much?

There's more in the vaults - and yes, that includes all the crazy hair textures and eyebrow shapes I used to have in the '90s - but I'll have to save those for another day. ;)

Tuesday, August 04, 2009

Shut Up and Drive



It wasn't the first driving shoe — that came in the 1950s when Italian race-car drivers wore narrow leather shoes with rubber nubs on the bottoms (the better to gauge the pedals and maintain traction as the foot moved swiftly). But with the Gommino, Tod's reinvented the style. Created by Diego Della Valle in the late 1970s, it was born of his desire to have an elegant, functional shoe that could be worn on any occasion and withstand a bit more wear than its predecessor.

[snip]

Every Gommino ("small pebble" in English) has precisely 133 rubber bumps on the sole and is made through a painstaking process of cutting, sewing and scrutinizing up to 35 pieces of leather by hand.

Quotes and picture from Time magazine (via AddThis)

***

I am currently re-learning how to drive here in the Philippines - which poses a double challenge to me, being 1) an older novice driver who 2) must learn how to drive with manual transmission. Now, I don't know about you, but as much as I like my early lessons on automatic transmission, I actually prefer driving stick - mostly because I actually enjoy the concept of shifting gears and engaging the clutch pedal with my left foot. There's actually a smooth physicality involved in trying to find the best balance between clutch and gas, which always makes me feel like a suave racecar driver... never mind that my driving style is actually best described as "Jason Statham in a golf cart with 12 hyperactive chimpanzees."

Driving with manual transmission has also given me a new perspective on shoes, as well. Like many novice drivers, I tend to put too much weight on my feet - problematic enough when you only have to deal with the accelerator pedal, but doubly so when you also need to work the clutch. As a result, I've become very particular about the footwear I use for my driving lessons: not too slippery (flip-flops are a massive FAIL on that part), not too lightweight, but thick and substantial enough to give your heel leverage, so you can concentrate on using your actual feet in gauging the pedals.

Until I finally get around to buying myself a pair of decent driving loafers - like those delicious Tod's pairs shown here - my current shoe of choice for driving lessons varies between my Charlotte Russe kitten wedges and my Reebok trainers. I might even start looking around here for a pair of athletic flats, like these Merrell shoes, or even some Converse-esque sneakers to drive in. Just don't ask me when I'm going to start motoring around in heels!

Monday, August 03, 2009

On a Happier Note


Above: My first two baby caps, created for La Familia de Scribe with different sizes of crochet hooks.

Congratulations to Scribey and her husband, Mr. Scribe, on the birth of their beautiful son.

Master Scribe finally arrived - kicking and screaming, I should add - after days of speculation and missed delivery dates. The young Master and his parents are in fine spirits, as they are spending the next few days enjoying their rest and their time together as a new family. :)

And as for the Master's own ninang-to-be, I will be sending all of my hugs and snorgles from across the ocean... as I get down to work on yet another set of baby-related knitting projects! ;)

Saturday, August 01, 2009

To A Leader, and A Lady



Widow, president, democracy icon, devout Catholic, great wearer of yellow dresses... but first and foremost, always and forever, a lady. Whoever said that polite women rarely make history was probably not around to witness what she has done, and will probably never see the likes of her again.

Corazon Aquino: 1933-2009. Rest in peace, and may you be with your beloved Ninoy in Heaven.

PS. Because I can't help it - and because my brother said that my Mad Men icon resembled Imelda Marcos - I created my own retro tribute to Tita Cory.