Quickly and quietly the divide is widening /Between those in society surviving an economy nosediving/ And those that find their lives /In abject poverty./ A collage of impropriety./ Morally, culturally, spiritually, economically,/ Yes, undeniably the dichotomy is widening./ Nightly worldwide folks colliding violently./ Fighting over pride and historical rivalries./ Information spread virally/ Like a cyber link…/ Internet piracy/ Violating my privacy/ Always spying on me/ Playing virtual hide n seek/ My life on their microfiche/ The amount of foreclosed properties/ Rivaling those with occupancies./ Addicts spiraling out of control…/ To put it mildly/ They’re struggling with sobriety./ Government policies tolerating dishonesty./ And allowing its companies to hold/ Dynasties and monopolies./ What does it all mean?/ C’mon, people, talk to me!/ It’s like a time release capsule/ In the belly of a wild beast/ …Slowly digesting./ Meanwhile my son flutters in the comfort/ Of his mother’s stomach./ He knows nothing of the…world that’s coming./ Even on a planet…millions are suffering…/He will overcome it with love/ And overwhelming abundance./ So little brother keep shining./ Little sis keep smiling, keep striving,/ Keep climbing, keep trying,/ Keep rising./ Likewise I’ll keep writin’, keep rhyming,/ Keep stylin’, keep grinding,/ Keep minding my creativity/ Keep redefining our imagery/ Because now on every level/ More than ever/ We need variety.
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.
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?
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.
Ahhhhhh. Such a relief to finally be able to go on vacation! I actually have time to just sit and do nothing which is quickly becoming a favorite pastime of mine: sitting in flannel pajamas, sippin’ on some green tea and vegging out on my laptop. Bliiiissss.
Coming from a Filipino family where performance is a time-honored tradition (come to any major Filipino celebration whether it’s a wedding or a cotillion and you will be inundated with contemporary and traditional music and dance numbers), my holidays were all about singing and dancing. I would’ve been more enthused about it if I weren’t still recuperating from the trek between LA and the Bay Area, hence my desire to veg out and do nothing.
But I’ve been looking for an excuse to post this video on Charmaine Clamor, an acclaimed Filipina jazz songstress and one of the founding members of JazzPhil-USA. I’m always on the lookout for influential individuals in the Filipino community, especially those who have something important to say about what it’s like to be Filipino. My Funny Brown Pinay, Clamor’s rendition of jazz classic My Funny Valentine, is a personal and historical account of how Clamor struggled with her flat nose and brown skin, an experience that is not unfamiliar to many Filipino brothers and sisters.
Thankfully, the trend of wanting to appear more White is fading (no pun intended). I remember when I was younger pinching my nose to see how it would look like if I had a straighter, Whiter nose. To be honest, I still kind of fret about my flat nose (only recently I began using nasal strips for snoring and was somewhat insulted when the strips didn’t fit comfortably over the bridge of my nose). The bathroom at my grandma’s house in Hawaii had small stockpiles of Eskinol, the papaya facial cleanser mentioned in Clamor’s song, that my family would use to lighten their skin (here’s an interesting debate about whitening products here), and my cousins would avoid staying in the sun for long periods of time. But since then, I noticed that we’ve all come to embrace our skin color, and are actually proud the darker we become. I personally don’t try to be lighter or darker, but I notice that I do get a little annoyed when family members poke fun because I look lighter.
That poses an even more interesting question: what is the motivation for embracing our darker skin tone? Is it actually embracing our cultural identity or is it a desire to separate ourselves from the majority race? I bring up the latter because education of Filipino history has increased since my generation, which uncovers the history of western imperialism in the Philippines. And I don’t know about other Filipinos, but I remember that enraged me like no other! Parts of it sparked my interest in my dissertation study (the psychological experiences of Filipino mail-order brides in the United States), thus propelling me along my own, tumultuous cultural identity development.
Anyway, I plan to meet Charmaine Clamor one day to 1) thank her for releasing this anthem of Filipino beauty and to 2) write an issue on her for my future publication. It will become a reality.
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.
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.
I first heard about Crystal Renn in the October 2009 issue of Teen Vogue. It was inspiring to see a full-figured model with gorgeous features and a hot attitude. I vowed to pick up a copy of her memoir, Hungry (but haven’t yet; I’m being fussy with my funds), a first-hand account of her battle with anorexia spurred on by the pressures of the modelling industry.
Love the Carmen Miranda-Meets-the 80’s vibe.
Because of Hungry, she’s known as one of the most vocal models in the name of plus-size women in the world. So it was a little disturbing to see a drastic change in her weight for the Passion for Fashion campaign.
July 2010
Here’s a timeline of her widely known editorials/runway gigs.
V Magazine, January 2010 – In some ways, I think the editorial is cruel because it almost feels like one model’s shape is pitted against the other. To be honest, I’m used to seeing the figure of model Jacquelyn Jablonski on the left, but when compared to Crystal Renn’s on the right, Jaquelyn’s figure looks emaciated, “like parts of her are missing,” as KFK put it. When I mentioned that Crystal Renn is a plus-size model, he said, “She’s a plus-size model??” Mm-hm. The fashion industry is a very warped world.
Elle Canada, January 2010 – diggin’ it! Old Hollywood glamour never gets old. In this editorial, Renn gets a little bit more slender.
Weight on her body isn’t so much of an issue as the weight on her eyelashes is. I wish my eyelashes would grow wings like that. New Year’s 2011. You’ll see.
Chanel Resort 2011 show, May 2010 – I love the part where it notes how Lagerfeld once said that no one would want to see round women. What. An. Ass. Then he puts Renn in his show. I think he may be just as confused as his models.
In a refreshing way, I think Lagerfeld, who looks like a damn monkey himself, was only speaking the harsh truth of the industry. A part of me feels that Renn has made it so far because she is not that big –she’s pretty normal-sized, actually– and her face maintains its model-like proportions; those angled cheekbones are a shoo-in for modeling jobs.
Given the state of the world, I wonder which direction the ideal female figure will take; will it shrink along with the economy or will it round out to reflect a more optimistic attitude? From a business perspective, it has done a few designer houses some good to cater even just a little bit to the every woman’s lifestyle (and pocketbook). Besides, it’s such a pain to be constrained on every level imaginable –financially, emotionally, creatively. I think it would be a relief to loosen our belts a little, figuratively and literally.
It had always been my dream to attend a live taping of a Conan O’Brien show. I’ve been a fan of his beady eyes, Elvis-like pompadour, quirky but sweet personality and gangly limbs since I started catching episodes of Late Late Night With Conan O’Brien back in college. I was outraged for him when I found out how NBC and Jay Leno royally screwed him over and in support of one of our comedic heroes, KFK and I had gone to see Conan’s “Legally Prohibited From Being Funny on Television Tour” last month.
But the point of this post (besides putting in my two cents of how much I love Conan) is to talk about the enigmatic figure of comedy, Reggie Watts, who’s opening Conan’s shows. He was captivating ’til the end. From the moment he stepped foot on stage, I was confused, amused and thoroughly entertained.
High Wattage
First of all, there’s that giant ‘fro he has for a head. If anyone knows me and my weird fascination with questlove’s afro, you would understand. If there was anything to cure my ADD, it would be a giant afro-mobile hovering next to my desk at work.
Then, there were the accents. By the end of his time slot, he had done maybe about 5 or 6 different impersonations and I couldn’t figure out which one was really his!
Then there were the skillz. Ohhhh, the skillz! I got mad love for the skillz. The whole point of this post is to showcase the man’s skillz. As an artist, Watts demonstrates comedy from different lenses. Like Ill Doctrine, he combines spoken word, humor and music to comment on socially conscious issues and life in general. By confusing the audience with his appearance and impersonations, he draws us in, taking us on this literal journey of exploration and then coming to the point of each performance together.
An Emcee in Unlikely Places
In his opening show, Watts sang a lot of parodies. The clip below is like an actual music video commenting on the ridiculousness of hip-hop today from the excessive use of cuss words to the pervasive portrayals of women as objects to the fact that it’s all nonsense with a beat.
Like I said, the man got skillz. KFK made the sad observation that Watts’ flow is actually better than most mainstream rappers out there. Along with the belief that hip-hop is dead, there is the mourning of the emcee. They’re almost completely extinct in mainstream radio which might actually be a good thing. Keeping them confined to the underground/independent hip-hop realm might actually preserve their existence.
Anyway, I’m keeping an eye out for any tours Watts might be embarking upon after the Conan tour wraps up. More to be announced…!
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 Congenialitygives 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.
she's got plenty 
