adventures in neverland

hong kong december thirty one, two hours before new year's eve the phone rang as i was about to step out of my flat. it was a dreary winter night, and the wind was biting cold. i was cold even if i was already wearing a thick outer jacket over cashmere sweater and a scarf. i did not expect that you would call. i was already on my way to meet up with you at our favourite restaurant where we planned to spend the new year's eve with some of our friends who preferred to stay in the city instead of going out of town for the holidays. once outside, i answered the phone. "what's up?" i said happily, my other hand tucked safely inside one of the side pockets of my jacket to keep it warm. i was walking briskly, imagining that you were wearing the blue ralph lauren sweatshirt that i gave you as a christmas present while you were driving your car on the way to central. but your "hello" did not sound cheerful at all. i was alarmed. i knew that tone of voice...

Michael Cinco: Chases Romance in Couture It seems strange talking about love months after St. Valentine's day in February. But romance knows no season, especially when you are with Michael Cinco. The international fashion designer -- known for his figure-hugging gowns that looked as if they were molded into the bodies of her models (think the recent incarnation of Superman and his newly-minted costume) and embellished with expensive Swarovski crystals, pearls and sequins that were stitched to utter perfection -- is a hopeless romantic. Love fuels his creativity, keeps his adrenaline rushing despite the tiresome pressures of coming up with dreamy, luxurious, fairy tale-like gowns and dresses fit for modern day queens and princesses. While he has been known to “eat, sleep, breathe and dream couture”, Michael is also a tireless lover, chasing love no matter how painful it can be. Love hurts, cuts deeply like  Swarovski crystals if you are not careful , but trus...

"the callousness of the Rich legitimates the bad conduct of the Poor; let them open their purse to our needs, let humaneness reign in their hearts and virtues will take root in ours; but as long as our misfortune, our patient endurance of it, our good faith, our abjection only serves to double the weight of our chains, our crimes will be their doing, and we will be fools indeed to abstain from them when they can lessen the yoke wherewith their cruelty beats us down." -- marquis de sade, justine i was about fourteen or fifteen, i think, when i first got a glimpse of the true nature of our expensive catholic education (or maybe i was just in the wrong school just like so many frothy people i know). it was during our religious education class - filipino christian morality -- and the topic was poverty. our professor, a nun in uniform (white habit, rosary and all), asked the class: why are people poor? one of my classmates, perhaps trying to impress the nun (she wa...

when i was younger, i wanted to be french. i longed to visit the country and learn the language. but since i could not afford it, i was contented watching a lot of french movies (the unfaithful wife, the umbrellas of cherbourg,  le samourai, the leopard, the four hundred blows, jules and other francois truffaut classics). i fell in love with the gorgeous french actors and their accents (catherine deneuve, alain delon, brigitte bardot). i also read a lot about french fashion (chanel, lv, gaultier, dior, ysl, hermes, louboutin, givenchy, lanvin). their food. all about paris. i always thought that the french were sophisticated and glamourous. something that was strengthened when i met and befriended a lot of french nationals here and abroad. in my previous life overseas, i had a lot of french friends: all gorgeous, all fabulous, especially the young. we partied almost every night. got drunk quite early on weekends. went to the beach a lot. partied on the yacht. i loved it when t...

what's a reunion among the gay squad (ms. puerto rico, ms. argentina and ms. philippines) without talking about the boys (past or present)? while sharing a slice of manhattan cheese cake and the sinful chocolate cake (we are on a perennial diet. ah, the price we have to pay for being beauty queens), sipping coffee and drinking beer at four in the morning at a posh coffee shop inside the venetian in macau, the topic shifted towards love from fashion, food, politics, pacquiao. specifically, the one we can't forget. or as ms. puerto rico had put it, the one who got away. blame it on the caffeine, the beer, or the time of the night (witching hour), or the fact that we haven't slept yet, but we all turned sentimental. all of a sudden. it's like a witch had cast a dark spell and we all turned gloomy. the teary-eyed ms. puerto rico said she can't forget golden boy. the one who offered his body to her, but she turned him down because she was in love with ...

“when the day is long and the night, the night is yours alone, when you're sure you've had enough of this life, well hang on don't let yourself go, 'cause everybody cries and everybody hurts sometimes..”                 - everybody hurts by r.e.m. at forty-two, roy felt like sixteen again, a virgin. not in the physical sense, but in the way he panicked, sweated and almost hyperventilated when dan called asking to meet up with him at their favorite basement bar.  he had no idea how dan looked like twenty years after. all he saw were his pictures on his facebook account. much has changed and yet stayed the same. he was surprised to hear from dan that the basement bar (or bb) was still around. it was a memorable place. they used to hang out there, a dreamy-eyed fresh-out-of-university couple, an odd one, channeling each other’s fears, dreams and paranoia. ranting about everything: t...