Disturbing

Jon Benet re-visited. Put the campaign on blast here.

Sacrilegio

In a family of Christians and Catholics, I’ve always strayed farther from the cross, dabbling in Wicca and Buddhism. Being Filipino, you can only imagine the distress this causes some members of my family. During my Wicca days, I remember talking to my cousin about it while he was finishing up Christian college. In a fit of anxiety, he stopped me mid-sentence and said, “Can I pray for you??”

Without getting into my spiritual beliefs too much, I thought I’ve always had a healthy skepticism toward really orthodox religions, which is why I was intrigued by Francesco Vezzoli’s newest exhibition at the Gagosian Gallery, Sacrilegio. In these works of art, Vezzoli takes portraits of Madonna-and-Child painted by various greats such as Leonardo, Giovanni Bellini and Rafaello and created needlepoint images, replacing the Madonna’s face with that of different supermodels like Naomi Campbell, Cindy Crawford and Tatijana Patitz. (Refinery 29 lamented that Abbey Lee Kershaw wasn’t included to which I say, Pffft! She is no supermodel, sor-ryyyy! Yes, the era of The Supermodel is ovah.) What message is the Italian artist trying to send to the masses?

“The Church commissioned some of the most erotically charged images in the history of art,” Vezzoli explains. “Using supermodels is my way of saying that the original paintings are really sensual.” In conflating supermodels with historical religious icons, Vezzoli points to the societal worship of figures from the fashion and celebrity industries.

Provocative? Yes. Religious? According to Vezzoli, yes, though not in the way the Pope would approve of. As for Vezzoli himself, he declares, “I believe in the religion of other people’s creativity…Catholicism wasn’t for me. I’m not holy enough— I’m a dirty boy.” Word.

 

His Job Makes Me Sad

Just learned this little tidbit of information that made my stomach sink into itself: fashion blogger supreme, Bryanboy, “makes more than $100,000 per year.”

OMFG.

I am beyond jealous. I’m sad, depressed and a whole lot of resentful. Not shocked, though, because I follow his blog daily and I see the fahh-bulous hotels he sleeps in and gourmet restaurants he eats at while schmoozing with other fahh-bulous people. Ahhh, envy. Luckily, green is a good color on me. *winks*

I read some of the comments on the article and was also not surprised to read some of the rude and downright hateful remarks. While I think it’s awesome that Bryan is doin’ his damn thang, I get where they’re comin’ from. I’ve worked my damn ass off in grad school and get paid half as much as he does! Before taxes!! On the other hand, to all the haters who complain that Bryan has nothing to say about fashion: maybe he doesn’t say much with words, but his outfits make statements I don’t think them haters can even begin to comprehend. Not only that, but his “people” must be awesome publicists to get him paid that salary! It’s called marketing, people. He attracts a fan base which creates traffic which makes him the perfect advertising link for fashion. He is so damn lucky.

Walk Like A Filipina

Congrats to Danica Magpantay, first Filipina to win Ford Models’ Supermodel of the World Competition! While researching info for this post, I stumbled upon this gem of news and couldn’t help but be reminded of Samantha Chang’s op-piece in Vogue, Asia Major, regarding the upswing of Asian models in the fashion and beauty industries.

 I, too, remember flipping through Seventeen magazine as a tween, and looking wistfully at White girls swipe on coral and pink shades like there was no science to it. My struggle to find make-up that looked right with my skin tone proved unsuccessful and I spent much of my middle school years copping samples of Covergirl’s Toast of New York and Wet N’ Wild’s Raisin. I wasn’t alone in this, thank goodness; my fellow Asian classmates also bore the marks of a tint that may or may not have been slightly too orange (Covergirl) or gothically dark (Wet N’ Wild).

Anyway, while I’m happy for the 17-year-old Magpantay and the exposure it brings to Filipino beauty, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that the first Asian supermodel was Filipino herself. Damn! Who woulda thought, right? Re-introducing Anna Bayle, one of the glamazon supermodels of the 80’s.

Her story isn’t much unlike any other model’s story: started off in Manila, Philippines going to college; was “discovered” while competing in the Miss World Beauty Pageant; realized that modeling was giving her money and freedom…cue superstardom, walking the catwalk for top dogs like YSL, Christian Lacroix and Versace with equally top models Cindy Crawford, Linda Evagenlista and others. But what is different is that this is a story from a Filipino woman’s perspective. Apparently, she coined the Anna Bayle Walk, a stride she created that emulated

the washer women from my country, the Philippines. They would wash their clothes in the river and when they were done, they would balance their wash load on their heads. They had to cross the river, stepping on wet stones, barefoot. They were light on their feet and always had pointed toes in order not to get wet or fall from the slippery surfaces.”

No models walk like this anymore! I miss that vibe, when runways had more personality. I have to agree with Bayle who noted that the newer generation of models appear “robot-like” as they “‘march in’ and ‘march out.'” With all the fashion mags I look at, none of the models really capture my attention, except maybe for Lara Stone. It wasn’t until I started Youtubing the walks for Tyra Banks and Naomi Campbell that I realized how much the 90’s have stuck with me. There was definitely a trend toward chiseled cheekbones and womanly features, a trend that has phased out to make way for the youthful looks for the Lindsey Wixsons of today.

Nice Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue-esque shot! Meanwhile, I’m trying to devour as much info about Bayle as possible. It serves as an inspiration for me to embrace the same gung-ho attitude she had that brought her success. No compromises. At one point during her career, it was suggested to her that she change her name to Maria Montezuma to which she replied, “I am Filipina. No matter what they do to me, I will always be a Filipina.” In fact, it’s rather comforting to know that as she was trying to break into the modeling business, she endured hardship, a fact of life that I’m still struggling with at the ripe old age of 30.

Although the fashion industry is trending toward Asians at the moment, “Asian” still means Chinese, Japanese, Taiwanese and Korean. But, it’s different reading about these rags to riches stories of other models of different nationalities and ethnicities. When I read about Anna Bayle, her stories are rich with meaningful layers. There is communication on a whole new level; levels of validation, understanding, pride, kababayan.

Maria Montezuma. *shakes head* Ay sus! What will they think of next?

“She Looks Familiar…”

Remember the Dove Evolution vid I posted awhile back? Here’s the layman’s version of a digital transformation.

I hate to admit it, but sometimes I do imagine Photoshopping my face and body to my liking and delight in the fantasy of the immediate gratification –who would need to exercise to take care of themselves? Ever? Bigger boobs (of course), nipped in waist, erase the double chin that is forming, shapelier eyebrows, higher cheekbones, longer lashes, less jowls, thicker and shinier hair, firmer butt, thinner thighs, defined calves, less bony wrists —less bony wrists??? Wow, seriously, if I had Photoshop, I could pick apart all my flaws at the drop of a hat.

But what’s always been creepy about Photoshopped images of people is that it often doesn’t even look like the person it’s supposed to be in real life. It’s like plastic surgery gone wrong, but at least it’s only permanent on the page.

Oil and Spice and All That’s Nice, That’s What the Gulf of Mexico is Made Of

Driving to work earlier this week, I was listening to the usual morning radio shows and learned that 13 people had gone overboard after another oil tank had exploded in the Gulf of Mexico. I’ve been meaning to post this provocative editorial from Vogue Italia and recently found the perfect opportunity to do so. The motives for publishing these images are controversial: is it a social commentary on the Deepwater Horizon Oil Spill or is an exploitive attempt to sell clothing and make-up for commercial gain? Personally, I feel the pendulum can swing both ways. My gut reaction towards the images was one of horror, especially when I thought about how it was impacting real birds and other sea life, not to mention the humans who have also experienced direct suffering from the oil spill. I won’t discount the possibility that Vogue Italia was influencing consumerist intentions, but you gotta admit, if there was minimal awareness of the ecological tragedy from these oil spills, there most definitely is now.

In fact, it almost seems less like a fashion shoot than a campaign against harm to the environment, doesn’t it? I sure as hell don’t feel like buying any clothes or make-up after seeing this.

24 xiao

I was so excited to find this concept editorial on Asians. We need more of these! Better yet, we need to see one from a Filipino perspective. In the meantime, I’m completely enamored with 24 Xiao by Liang Su. It’s a contemporary interpretation of one of the cornerstones of Chinese folktales, “The 24 Filial Exemplars,” which emphasizes one of the most important cultural values: taking  care of your parents’ needs (which also can be very “Filipino,” come to think of it). The level of sacrifice involved in this is translated into the modern fashionista’s devotion to fashion perfection. 24 Xiao is an attempt to create a bridge between eastern culture and western fashion in the hopes of establishing a new way to view Chinese fashion. 

 

From an aesthetic point of view, I adore the use of muted tones associated with ancient chinese pictures and script with the expressive poses and modern dress of today. Pay attention to the title of each image and see if you can draw parallels between filial piety and one’s devotion to fashion. 

Fighting With Nature

 

Ice Fishing

 

The Masquerade

 

Wolf in Deer Skin

 

Tears of Bamboo

 

Useless Wealth

 

Servitude

 

As She Commands

 

Tomb-Side Tears

 

Stealing Beauty

 

Medicine Perfection

 

The Leap of Faith

 

Fruit Picking

 

The Quest

 

Statue Obsession

 

Bedside Manners

 

Taste for Sickness

 

Money for Life

 

The Ultimate Sacrifice

 

The Mosquito Lure

 

The Attendant

 

Shaking the Heavens

 

Sufficient Parenting

 

Emotional Telepathy

Where Their Spirits Roam

Rodarte, Rodarte, Rodarte. Oh, Mulleavy sisters. *Sigh* When I started catching glimpses of their Fall line, I was excited; more layers and draping! And they did not disappoint.

The source of their inspiration for the collection came about during a road trip through Texas on a journey to explore their Mexican roots when

“…they became interested in the troubled border town of Ciudad Juárez; the hazy, dreamlike quality of the landscape there; and the maquiladora workers going to the factory in the middle of the night. And that, according to the designers, who certainly know how to romance a pitch, led to this conclusion: They’d build a collection off the idea of sleepwalking.”

It is the romantic, softer version of their warrior-esque Spring line. Instead of sporting a deconstructed aesthetic with a smorgasbord of textures, the sisters rang in Fall with lighter colors, floral patterns and airy, cozier fabrics. 

“The show ended with a quartet of ethereal, unraveling, rather beautiful white dresses that alternately called to mind quinceañera parties, corpse brides, and, if you wanted to look at it through a really dark prism, the ghosts of the victims of Juárez’s drug wars.”

The concept is so simple and the sisters’ execution of their haunting vision was perfect. To top it off, the clothes were accessorized with these unbelievably awesome melted candle-wax heels by Nicholas Kirkwood. One can imagine lost souls wandering in the night with only the flickering flame from a candle to light their way. I would totally buy these shoes if 1) I had money and 2) I wore heels. Come to think of it, if I had money I would buy them anyway just to display on my fireplace mantle.

Because of their dark and slightly off-beat gothic creativity, Rodarte is by far one of my most favorite designers ever. So it was disheartening to hear about their collaboration with M.A.C. in creating a make-up line to accompany the Fall collection. On the surface, it only makes sense to complete the ensemble with a cosmetic line. But the collaboration hits a sour note when you learn that they’ve given the nail polish names like Factory and Juarez.

On the flip side, the controversy sparked by the collaboration actually brought awareness about the devastation in Ciudad Juarez. In reality, the impoverished conditions of those factory workers are neither romantic or dream-like. Far from it, in fact. Jessica Wakeman, one of the first bloggers who made the appalling connection between Rodarte’s Fall line and the women of Juarez stated,

“Juarez is an impoverished Mexican factory town notorious for the number of women between the ages of 12 and 22 who have been raped and murdered with little or no response from police. Most of the young women are employees at the border town’s factories, called maquiladoras, and disappeared on the way to or from work.”

I made these collages to show the cognitive dissonance between my love for Rodarte and my discomfort in their use of femicide as inspiration for fashion. When I started Googling images pertaining to “women of Juarez,” a crop of pictures depicting pink crosses came up and I remembered seeing a similar exhibit at a Day of the Dead celebration a few years back. There were pink crosses and altars for young women who had disappeared or died in Juarez. Ironically, Rodarte’s ghostly portrayal in their collection is an accurate reflection of how the femicide in Juarez is regarded; as surreal events that drift away like ghosts in the night, only to be forgotten. It’s sad, but I think it’s true of how violence against women has always been treated.

The designers and M.A.C. have responded in kind. In addition to a formal apology (and a real one, too, where they actually admit that they’ve fucked up), M.A.C. is changing the names of their make-up. They’re also scrapping their original plan to donate a portion of their profits to organizations serving the women in Juarez, and have announced that 100% of their profits will be donated to programs benefitting these women.

So where does that leave us? I, for one, am relieved that Rodarte and M.A.C. are taking responsibility for their ignorance. I don’t feel that their donation fully compensates for their mishap, but short of cancelling the launch altogether, what else would they do?

The question that remains for me is, when does art imitating life cross the line between acceptable and tasteless? The exploitation of someone’s pain for financial gain is a clear winner. And I always have to remind myself that people mess up, even those who feel the most socially conscious or don’t mean any harm. Before, in my more angry days, I would’ve cut off Rodarte altogether. The problem with cutting things off is in these types of situations is that the journey towards progress stops. Thankfully, I’ve learned to be more comfortable not having a clear answer. And honestly, I still love Rodarte. They’re just not the most socially conscious people out there. If anything, I hope this situation only motivates them to increase their awareness about bullshit that goes on in the world.

Portraits Of The South

I marvel in the faded colors of the cloth she’s twisted into a makeshift turban, its ends tattered and frayed, probably from long hours working in the sun and dusty terrain. A piece of toughened leather bejeweled with rows of cowrie shells encircle her neck almost like a yoke. In a society where people are desperate to cling on to some sort of unattainable ideal through silicone breasts, synthesized beats and infinite internet access via I-Pods and I-Pads, the creativity and vibrancy that emerges from using nature’s most simple materials humbles me.

Their confidence isn’t found in the size of their breasts (clearly) or how much they’ve embraced technology in any shape or form, but in they way they carry themselves. The portraits are inspiring because it reminds me that life can be simple and still fulfilling.

This portrait of a young woman is one of the most compelling portraits I’ve seen. Her stance suggests an air of nonchalance and relaxed self-assurance. A hint of a smile plays around her lips as she regards the camera with an easy gaze. Stylistically from a Western point of view, she complements her shape with a gorgeous piece of what I presume is some kind of animal pelt hanging loosely around her neck like a halter accompanied by layers of wooden beads, metal and leather. Symmetrical piles of copper and silver bangles adorn her arms like rays of sunbeams. She is Nature, Nature is She. It was never meant to be more complicated than that. 

The camera is but a distraction. She turns away because she has more important things on her mind. Fashion isn’t commercial to her; it’s creativity, it’s a way of life, it’s in the way she cares for herself and the way she cares for others. Her turban resembles a mind fruitful with wisdom, her bare shoulders free from the weight of a pressured society. “Lighten the load,” she says. I strive to find that kind of balance in the way I express myself so I, too, can turn the other cheek to insignificant things in my life.

What looks like an ordinary sheet of cloth is transformed into a majestic shawl for the queen that it shields from the sweltering sun. I respect the process of finding beauty in even the most seemingly mundane things.

They bring color to her life, little reminders that what is beautiful is not always tangible, it’s not always contemporary, it’s not always exotic. It touches and connects with the soul without rhyme or reason and exists only in the eye of the beholder. In fashion, inspiration exists outside of the designer department stores and off the runways; they are but pedestals for gods and goddesses who have risen and fallen season after season. If only I can take these reminders with me on a daily basis, I will gain truth in my own creative journey.

images from Philip Gatward

Africa is the New Black

The June issue of Lucky magazine in one hand and a steaming hot cuppa tea in the other, I unwillingly leave Zephyr and schlep begrudgingly back to the office, cursing the damn Santa Ana winds for whipping flyaways into my line of vision. It’s all I can do to keep from running up and down the hallways screaming bloody hell.

I need a vacation.

Besides going to the Philippines, I’ve had this recent itch to travel to Africa in an effort to fulfill my escapist, jet-setter fantasies. What’s making me uneasy about it is that trend setters everywhere are scratching that itch with bohemian, gypsy, exotic-patterned trends flooding every runway, blog and fashion magazine known to the fashion diva. I was cruising Anthropologie the other day and came across this book called Natural Fashion: Tribal Decoration From Africa.

 

 

I was intrigued by the images of African aborigines adorned heavily in necklaces and headgear of lush vegetation until my guilty (social) conscience hit me with a sense of cognitive dissonance: how could I enjoy these pictures when it appears as though these individuals were observed as objects of fascination to feed our American appetites for the exotic?

It’s something I’ve been struggling with lately, especially since I’m really into the bohemian aesthetic and the fashion industry is taking every opportunity to capitalize on that. Most reviewers of the book through Amazon were a glowing 5 stars. However, one reviewer echoed sentiments similar to mine:

The sub title, “Decoration from Africa” is literally correct but substantially misleading. This is a book of sumptuous photographs of young and beautiful inhabitants of Ethiopia’s Omo valley. There are essentially no pictures of day to day life or the true context of these people’s lives. This book is not about daily life, nor does it pretend to be, but by describing its content as tribal decoration from Africa it promises something authentic. However, nearly everyone here is decked out in face and body paint and draped in a salad bar of lush leaves, sensual pods and pretty flowers. Are they decorating themselves out of some tribal tradition, or for the benefit of the potographer? Travel to southern Ethiopia has become very much easier in recent years. Small groups of intrepid tourists now visit the Omo frequently where as 20 years ago such visits were rare and arduous. Published images from the 80s will show villagers less flamboyantly made up. What appears to be happening is that a fashion show for foreigners is under way, much as what happened in the Nuba Hills of Sudan after Leni Reifenstahl published her famous photo essay hald a century ago. A more accurate title for this book would have been New Fashions: Tribal Children Decorate Themselves for Hans Silvester.”

I immediately geared up the search engine to google images of people from the Omo Valley, just to see if what this reviewer said holds significant validity. It kinda does. There were a variety of pictures depicting Omo Valley citizens in both what seemed to be more day-to-day garments as well as ensembles that were more elaborately decorated. 

 

I’m pretty sure that adornments may vary from region to region so there may actually be people who wear the bright green flora and fauna in Silvester’s images.

Recent years of highly publicized celebrity international adoptions is also why Natural Fashion leaves a sour taste in my mouth. What is this weird fascination with Black and Asian babies? I used to be an avid consumer of celebrity gossip back when I used tabloids as an outlet for escape, but I’ve long sworn off the junk, choosing to mingle with reality. Still, my world is not vaccuum-proof and the latest cover of People magazine with Sandra Bullock and her little Black bundle of joy made me cringe a little. First, Angelina made headlines with her melting pot brood, then Madonna, and now Miss Congeniality gives interracial adoption a whirl (at least she adopted him from the U.S.). And what I find completely ironic is that the adoption comes out after she collects an Oscar for The Blind Side.

Superficially, adoption is a wonderful thing. Who can knock a person who wants to give a child a home? Or wanting to remove  a child from living in impoverished conditions? However, the insane publicity of transnational adoptees and the choice to adopt from another country when children in our very own country are in need of homes gives me pause. Of course they probably may not even realize this but I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to consider the possibility that these well-meaning adults are fulfilling a fantasy of their own.

During my grad school training, it wasn’t uncommon for White people to feel guilty about their privilege in this society. I always wonder if adopting children from Third World countries is an unconscious way for them to relieve themselves of that White Guilt. As if giving that child privilege helps even out the playing field in a way.

On the flip side, maybe transnational adoption is another outlet for White people to continue this legacy of colonization, albeit in a much more humane way. All of the power with none of the guilt. Western Imperialism has a legacy of colonizing “less civilized” societies (ie., Philippines, Native Americans, Africa) so those are being colonized strive to be like the colonizer at the expense of degrading their own culture. If these celebrities truly wanted to help these children, they’d quit trying to play God by pre-selecting what special child they can save from themselves. And what is wrong with adopting children from the U.S.? No child left behind, right? Instead, they should do like Oprah and work to help improve the child’s country of origin.

A-ny-wayyyy…back to Natural Fashion. I tend to overanalyze things which really cramps my whole creative mojo. I figure the only thing I really need to ask myself is if I would still be interested in Silvester’s images if they were done with White subjects and the answer is yes, I have been and am. Realistically, I can’t be completely immune to pop cultural influences. It’d be like asking Heidi Montag to stop getting plastic surgery. Which completely bugs cuz I want these pretty pictures to look at! I’ve had this issue before, and I’m tempted to get these books while recognizing that the images are pure fantasy and not realistic portrayals of the cultures they claim to embody.

Argh. To be continued…