Seven sins for all mankind

Who hasn’t been a fashion victim? Let’s just start with Jem and the Holograms bangs, and we find ourselves all incapable of absolving ourselves from such sins.

Now that we are older and none the wiser, we are faced with another hybrid of suckerdom. Designer crimes. Even for the average Joe, if motivated and encouraged enough, he will spend a month’s worth of rent on a pair of limited-edition Puma sneakers and a couple of basic James Perse shirts.

I’m proudly young enough to say that the first designer crime I committed was being suckered into the Perry Ellis by Marc Jacobs (mind you, he was way into crack around that time, as opposed to his sober-chic aesthetic of today that’s more worth the buck) and Doc Martens in Skittle quantities (every color of the rainbow) designer-grunge cult. I even remember that there was this hair product that you put in your hair just so you looked like you didn’t shower for days. I lapped the pretentious trend like a kitten shoved at a bowl of milk. Looking poor surely cost a lot! I mean, let’s face it. Even today people are paying $500 for ripped jeans!

It’s like Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later for fashion. Everyone’s like a zombie hounding after the next cool new denim. My friend in the garment industry told me it costs like $7 to make each pair of jeans – as in, any kind! He told me that the retro brand Jordache was netting a billion bucks a year! Could those Henry Duartes really just be Jordaches with their labels ripped off? A mystery. I’m glad I found Ino Caluza of Viktor jeans. I get the cut that I want at humane prices. Fashion is so not a competition, at least for me. Or maybe I’m too broke to even catch up in the race.

I think I belong to the "esque-quire," loving things Gucci-esque, McQueen-esque, Marni-esque and the lot. Of course, I have to admit I’m only saying that to make myself feel better, sane and sensible. There’s nothing like limited-edition Louboutins cradling your heels and a Celine chinchilla fur-length coat to keep you warm while I’m shopping at Target in my ripped jeans and tank tops – a few of my little luxuries. For everything else it’s "—esque" – except for Hermes, Etro, Prada and Pucci, sacrilege to -esque that.

I mean, let’s take a look at the T-shirt industry that has made millionaires of many basement silkscreen artists – okay, thousandaires, at the very least. I saw this ratty shirt in Lane Crawford that retailed for like $80. It looked like one of those shirts that politicians gave out during electoral campaigns. But being a whore, I bought it anyway. But really plain, plain shirts that retail for triple digits given the right label sell out even more than their more humble counterparts.

It’s like paganism. We worship the next new small label, the next big thing, the next wave or whatever element is predicted to shake up another fashion revolution. We want to be part of it. Wearing an $80 shirt can validate your existence at least for five minutes, then you think of ways to justify it for the rest of your life.

The last time I was catcalled into a fashion frenzy was when the cherry blossom Murakamis came out (loong time ago). I cleverly found out that our LV has the shortest waitlist in Asia, and yes, I had my bag in a week, while friends in Hong Kong had to wait for months. Mabuhay LV Manila! It rocks! But I was stressed and swore to myself that I will only lust for things that only I will have and not what everyone wants. Which means it will be more expensive, and that I’m doomed to become fashion sheep.

Another sham is beauty products. Oh, come on. I have to put my foot down when a $500 diamond facial scrub is flying off the shelves. Or maybe I’m just jealous that I don’t have the luxury of owning a $500 diamond facial scrub. But still, beauty-blitzing came to a peak when Kimora Lee Simmons famously said that she uses the precious La Mer Face cream all over her body and the even more precious La Mer eye cream all over her face. If a chic skank like that can boot it out, why can’t classy babes like us? Hmmm… maybe its because were not married to Russell Simmons.

The ’80s is a decade that will never die. It comes in different incarnations. The religion of materialism. In the ’90s, it was minimalist Zen, where you bought koi for thousands of dollars and traded Louis XVI furniture for $10,000 canvas couches to move in to your new overpriced loft.

Let’s not deny it. Every trend has its price, and I’m glad the whole pretension of living the simple life while you spend thousands of dollars on designer lettuce and fish and blank canvases pretending to be art is over. Materialism and appearances are the weaknesses of every urban dweller exposed to V, GQ, Wallpaper and Vogue. We are so toast when it comes to these things. Even flea market stuff now costs as much as designer crap. We’re all being goaded into emptying our pockets for the sake of style.

To -esque or not to -esque, that is the question. And only Daddy or your bank account can answer that.