Marry the Queen

Dada and I got married at Mary the Queen back in 2008:

photo via weddingsinthephilippines.com

For some reason, Berry just loves the idea of weddings and always asks me to tell her our wedding story. 

While we were in the bathroom, she asked me about our wedding again.

"Well, Dada and I got married at Mary the Queen.", I started.

"I already know that, Mom." she replied.

Before I could say anything, she continued, "Oh Mom, you know I told teacher that you got married at Mary the Queen."

"That's right. And what did teacher say?", I asked.

"I told teacher that the church is called Mary the Queen because that's where people Marry and the bride is the Queen!", Berry said, looking up at me with a wide grin on her face.

Shocked but amused at the same time, I blurted out, "What! And what did she say?"

"She said 'No, it means Mama Mary is the Queen'", she replied, that big smile still plastered on her face.

"Yes, of course, teacher is right!", I exclaimed, not knowing at that moment whether to laugh or launch an impromptu catechism lesson. 

Right there and then, I vowed to be more zealous in supplementing Berry's CLE lessons, hahaha. 

Teacher, if you are reading this, know that I have nothing to do with this "Marry the Queen" idea.

TOINKS.

Klose Encounter with Kevin Kwan

I read Crazy Rich Asians in one night. No, make it from midnight to almost 4 am.

I had the mistaken notion of reading it during bedtime, thinking it was book that will help me go to sleep, after a long day taking care of two kids, and a mundane day of running errands, and doing some writing. But no.

It was a complete and utter page turner. I was caught up in the world of Astrid, Rachel, Nick and the cast of characters they call family and friends, that I found myself flipping through page after page after page, until I reached the very last. Which left me wanting more and had me pondering, "Who is Kevin Kwan? And where does he get all these fantastical ideas for a story?"

Thanks to Chris Yam Daez of Fully Booked, I found out soon enough.
 
When Chris told me that Kevin Kwan was coming to Manila to sign books, I knew I had to go. The same way every Kevin Kwan fan in Manila decided it was an event they weren't going to miss.

I had it all sorted out. I told my husband I was going with my good friend Maymay Tan way in advance, I would leave my three kids at home, have my books signed, and maybe ask Kevin if there's a real life Astrid living the painfully chic Astrid life.

On the day of the Crazy Rich China Rich send-off at Salon de Ning, Maymay and I came prepared, books on hand.

Kevin being welcomed by the evening's host Tim Yap, and Chris Yam Daez of Fully Booked

As we waited for our books to be signed, we listened intently to Kevin's Q&A with fashion journalist Bambina Olivares-Wiser who peppered him with all the juicy questions I would have wanted to ask myself.

 Bambina asking all the questions we've always wanted to ask

Some meaty tidbits: Kevin moved to the U.S. when he was 12. He studied at Parsons and worked in fashion (hence the knowledge about all the designers and labels written in the book), and he's related to the actress Nancy Kwan.

What's more, while the lifestyles of Colette Bing and and Kitty Pong were irrationally crazy and exuberantly rich as is, Kevin shared the plots in the books have actually been toned down because the reality is crazier!

Which gives new meaning to the term, "beyond my wildest dreams", come to think of it.

But enough about the the book, and more about my encounter with the author. Little did I know I would have my own fashion moment with Mr. Kwan that night.

As I stepped up the platform to have my books signed, I sank into the seat across him and we exchanged pleasantries. I rambled on about how big a fan I was, and how I barely slept a wink when I first read Crazy Rich Asians. He nodded politely, used to the babble of starstruck fans. As he was about to sign, I told him that even my husband enjoyed the book, and "Could you write it out to Harvey, please?"

A he scribbled on the title page he said, "That's a gorgeous accessory, who is it by?"

Taken by surprise, I held up the minaudiere on my lap and asked, "This one?"

"I was looking at your necklace, but wow that's gorgeous too!" he replied.

"These are both by Filipino designers", I excitedly blurted out. "This one is made in Cebu", I added, still clutching my minaudiere by Cebuano designer Neil Felipp.

He was genuinely impressed I suppose, that he asked if he could take a photo of my clutch.

Maymay managed to get  photo of Kevin taking a photo of my Suzy Wong minaudiere, woot!

 "Sure!" I replied, thrilled that he even noticed.

"May I tweet it, I mean post it online?" he asked.

"Of course!" I said a little too excitedly.

Kevin did post it on his Instagram!

Then he writes "For Tin (With the gorgeous accessories) Kevin". OMG.

Wow, diba?

To have my books signed that evening was a real treat, but to have Kevin Kwan himself notice Filipino design that evening? Priceless.

I would lie if I say I didn't feel a little bit like Astrid that night.

CHOZ.

A Shoe Story

Our shoe rack downstairs had been overrun with my shoes on current rotation that I decided to bring everything up to our shoe closet. 

Nana brought up one big West Elm paper bag filled with flats, sandals, sneakers and heels. It seemed like a manageable number, that I budgeted an hour to sort them out.

But when I laid everything out on the floor, even I got overwhelmed at the number of pairs I've accumulated. I took a picture for posterity, ahihihi.

I also realized I always end up buying shoes in black, nude, white or silver

While wiping the right pair of my patent ballet flats, preparing to put it right back in it's pink tissue lined box, I felt a sense of happiness (and maybe a little bit of pride) looking at the pile of shoes in front of me, like how other women would ogle their own jewelry collection, I guess.

But when I heard Dada's voice as he was walking in towards the closet, I panicked.

"Sh*t, when he sees this, he's going to freak out", I thought to myself.

But it was too late. He was already standing by the doorway, and I was crouched on the floor, still wiping away.

You know how some people use the term, "deer caught in the headlights?" That was me.

Photo via caffeinecrew

"I know, ang dami! I'm cleaning up na!" I told Dada before he could mutter a word.

But all he could say was, "Grabe."

He tiptoed around my pile as he grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt from his side of the closet, and left without saying anything else.

"Oh wow, that was easy", I thought.

Dada again appeared on the doorway, carrying Tepper. They stopped right there, looking down on me - still crouched on the floor, packing shoes in their boxes.

"Look at Mommy." Dada said to Tepper. They both watched me silently, and all that I could blurt out was...

"Don't judge me. Don't judge me. Don't judge meeee!"

Then Tepper smiled.

Hay these boys.

Thankfully, not a word was spoken ever again about my shoe situation.

Until Berry arrived from school and walked in on me.

"What a mess, Mom!" she said.

"That's why I'm cleaning up.", I replied. And to make her leave and not bug me I said, "Come help me clean!" And she turned away, hahaha.

Fast forward to dinner time and Dada was asking me why I wasn't getting the kikiam I bought from Mi Casa/Angel's Kitchen.

"I'm just waiting for all of you to get. Kuha ako when you're all done getting." I said.

"Wow, martyr!" he said.

Then added, "Hindi bagay!", chuckling happily at his own hirit.

I explained, "Ganyan talaga mommies no, last na ako, para you can eat all the kikiam you want."

Dada turned silent for a moment, seemingly mulling at my statement.

Then he said, "May martyr ba na ganyan kadaming sapatos?"

Dada looked at Berry, and they both laughed.

THE END.

Ma'am and Madam

My friend P was distraught. She just had to share this in our private FB group:

Hi mothers, just wanted to share. 

At the garden center, I was talking to this guy I judged to be about the same age as me. But throughout our conversation, he kept saying 'po' and 'opo' which made me realize he probably thinks of me as SIGNIFICANTLY OLDER! 

Redeeming moment at the supermarket today, when a man who looked to be in his late 40s called me 'Hija.' 

Who here has been thinking a lot about aging lately? Because I have! Anybody know how to stop the clock?! 

"Maybe he is just being polite?" some of us surmised.

"You can go to a college campus and still fit in.", K chimed in.

"The first time I met my brother-in-law's ex-GF, she said "po" and I was so pissed! And ending was, she turned out to be older than me!", shared J, with obvious hugot.

"I get surprised when somebody calls me 'Madam'!", P added as an afterthought.

"Come to think of it, I get called Madam a lot! Nakakainis Ang Madam! Parang matrona!", I vented out

"Feeling ko inaasar ako pag Madam, hahaha", K said. 

"I get called Madam a lot too, naiinis lang kayo because a true donya would be offended!", jabbed P, who must have recalled this from Tita K's insightful Facebook status post on true donyahood.

"When I think Madam I think big helmet hair na alajada!", I explained. Visions of Imelda Marcos and her Blue Ladies, plus Meldy Cojuangco and her Forbes Park amigas come to mind.

But nobody followed my train of thought, and the topic shifted to gardening and the possible death of plants.

Which left me still pondering on P's anecdote and my personal experiences as of late. 

When I look in the mirror, I see that no amount of Aesop Parsley Seed Anti-Oxidant Eye Serum will take care of the wrinkles that appear when I smile or squint my eyes, the way that Botox can. And I refuse to do Botox. (Kids, don't make it a habit to rub your eyes, it loosens the skin around your eyes, and unfortunately for me, I cannot turn back time)

I have toyed with the idea of having my lids done though, because my eyelids droop in a way that resembles a hoodie. 

When I look at the skin on my tummy that has been stretched thrice, thanks to my three beautiful children, I remember the times when it was taut and trim, and woe is me that I never even bothered to have photos taken to prove it.

Worse, I go to a photo shoot and the models call me Tita. Tita!

In a year and a half, I will be 40 years old. I remember when my Mom and her friends were 40. They seemed so old. And a lot more mature than I am now. But this observation deserves a post of its own.

I remember her friends who would say how offended they were when they were called, "Tita" and I would think to myself then, "Well, you are a Tita! What else would you be called?". But because I was taught to keep my opinions to myself, I would just smile politely, out of respect for my elders.

Uhm, I guess that's me and my friends now. The sort of folks who would get curious stares from the kids hanging out in the cool clubs, should we even dare go to Palace Pool Club or wherever it is millennials go to now. And that the pretty girls of our time now look like the moms that they are, and the sleazy guys of our generation are now the official Dirty Old Men. Hahaha.

I guess we will just have to accept aging gracefully, lest we be the ones who live out our glory days way past our prime.

In fact, there's this old couple I often see at church who look like they are dressed for a Grease themed party. Lola with teased curly hair, tight jeans and heeled slides, and Lolo with greasy pomaded hair and his short sleeved shirt folded just like John Travolta's.

They actually look cute and can get away with it, and I often think of how they must have had a great time in the 70s and 80s that they identify with the look of the era close to 40 years later.

Ahhh there goes 40 again. That said, I will hold my bottles and jars of SK-II close to my chest, and keep Coco Chanel's words, in my heart.

  

Then again, Coco Chanel calls her perfume Mademoiselle instead of Madame.

So f*ck it. While I think I am doing a decent job with my anti-aging routines, I may need more intervention down the road.

Because here's one scary fact: In a study of 100 Japanese women aged between 22 and 55, scientists from beauty brand SK-II discovered that while 'skin power' - the ability to protect itself from UV exposure and pollution, and to renew and regenerate itself - steadily declined, it went into free fall at 35.

Support group na ito! Fellow Ma'ams and Madams, tips please?