Celebrating Christmas, Jordan Road Style

This is how we celebrate Christmas.

Here.

Walk the long stretch of Nathan. And be gay. Really gay.

Slurp ice cream. And not gain a pound.

Bring kids. And be thrilled.

Put on underwear. Where it should not be.

Eat beef rendang and lugaw. And love it.

Go to market. In street fashion.

Dance with an orange. A real orange.

Feed banana to a friend. And make sure it gets into her mouth.

Collect balloons. Just collect them.

And give gifts.

Celebrating Christmas has never been this fun. And meaningful.

Having it with distressed migrant workers makes the holiday season different.

Hope you had a good one, too!

Isang Moment sa 711

Gagawin ko bang kaemote-emote ang post na ito? Sige, ita-try ko.

Nangyari ang lahat sa 7-11.


Nakalimutan kong gatasan si Puti noong Martes kaya napwersa akong magkandirit sa 7-11 sa tapat ng opisina namin para bumili ng Kowloon Dairy Fresh Milk.

Habang tumatawid, inisip ko ang lahat ng kabanidosahan ko sa buhay: ang pagpapaganda, damit na panglamyerda, shoeses, etc.

Parang ang gastos ko. Actually, walang parang. Naging magastos ako.

For vanity, I spent. For vanity, I wasted. For vanity, I indulged.

And at some point I felt sad. I felt incomplete without these things. these, according to Andrea Saks, "stuff".

Hanggang napadpad ako sa 711 na walang pintuan. At nakita ko si Kuya.

Walang Kamay.

Umattack sa refrigerator at kumuha ng dalawang cartons ng Vita Chocolate, inilapag sa cashier's area, binuksan ang bag nyang black at naglabas ng 10 dollars.

All the time, nakangiti sya. Malay ko kung masayahin o malungkutin syang tao, pero nung moment na yon, parang isa sya sa mga kandidata ng Miss Happiness 2008.

He was without cares. And I was. He felt complete. I didn't.

And he made me. Complete. Happy.

I did not bring my camera with me but that ephemeral scene would have be kept forever in my own memory card.

May mga bagay na hindi kailangang i-print. O bilhin. Para maging masaya.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

Pagdadalaga

Sa isang bar sa Timog Silangang Asya:

Sino ang type mo?

Wala. Ayoko.

Meron ka ano? Sino?

Di pwede. Committed na ang kuya.

Sige na. Sabihin mo na.

(to himself) Ikaw.

****************

Ilan lang ito sa mga episodes sa buhay ng isang nagdadalagang 34 anyos. Matapos ang kaarawang halos maihampas ng isang latino ang buong katawan ko sa kisame sa kakaitsa sa akin, andito ako ngayon. Muli.

Nagdedeliryo sa usaping ukay at isyu. Nagdidilema kung bibili pa ba ng mga mamahaling eye creams o mananatli na lang sa mga libreng give-aways. Nag-aatubili kung hihintayin ang gabi para maging singganda ni Celestina.

Hindi ko pa alam kung may mga Tiya Aguida pang mga dadaan sa may Jordan Road at mamamalagi sa aming white house. Pero sya, sige't sabihin lang nila kung saan, paano at kailan, at sa modang Sharong hihiwalayan ang babaerong Kiko, hindi ko sila uurungan.

Sa ngayon, pagiisipan ko muna kung paano mapapahupa ang mga namamagang mata sa kapupuyat.

Lab Series eye cream nga po, miss.

Tippin with Vivienne

So there I was, in my Muji jacket, Tuesday socks and 50-dollar Giordano pointys, striding towards Cornwall House.

Vivienne screamed delightedly upon seeing me. (Or was it me?) I was skeptical at first but she let me strode into her huge dresser as we chatted like hungry-for-gossip ladies of old on basically anything under the fashionable sun.

She was without cares. Except the caveat - look but nay touch.

Fashion is a baby I put up and never put down. She said

And she grew up quite horrendously well, didn’t she? I retorted, while continually suppressing my now overwhelming joy and cupping the virtual drool from my near-orgasmic id.

She did not answer. I was wondering if it was because I without tact uttered the word “horrendous” or, her baby was not a she after all.

While we got into some disagreements, I basically took in everything from this woman of working class origin. Her words, her experiences, her creations were like streams of sunlight flowing through my office windows at 7 o’ clock in the morning.

Twenty years of sex, punk and sedition. Of mini-crinis, tartans and that Sheba gown. Of Dior and the metropolitan suit, tailoring and shoes, Nadia and those laurel leafs above her head.

Of her abhorrence against the mediocrity of today’s fashion.

Of the face that is the most erotic of all.

She told me how the past, the history, the culture of old are instrumental in reshaping the textile. For after all, fashion is all about it – twisting, turning, twitching, tacking, tearing, tieing the textile to tremendous extreme.

She went on to touch a red lavish gown she once wore and said, as if she has always been at peace with the creations all around her, “You have a much better life if you wear impressive clothes.”

I smiled in my quiet disagreement as I secretly touched that yellow mustard gown.

I saw her smirk, in a good way – as if knowing what I thought and did.

But not disagreeing.

*************
The VIVIENNE WESTWOOD A Life in Fashion exhibit will be up in ArtisTree in Cornwall House, Taikoo Place, Quarry Bay, Hong Kong from November 28, 2008 to January 31, 2009.

Her collection is an absolution from hell for those who do not think she is ever wearable.

It is beauty of galactic proportions. Of voluptuous offense.
*************

I bade her farewell, resolved in my heart, soul and mind that I can never afford her.

At this, she gave me the face, with the letters V and W written on it.

And we laughed.