Comparisons
A phone call from Ricco Ocampo reminded me there’s more to life and some fun outside the fence where extreme discipline is mandated. “Come on, Ting, go out.” Then Bobby Cuenca calls: “Mare, halika na, relax.” Likewise, Anton San Diego texts: “The Tatler Ball is next week.” Who can refuse him, being one of his muses? “Let’s go form a table.” Amy Cu Unjieng, Congressman Teddy Boy and Louie Locsin, Anabelle Locsin, Nick and Lucille, Chingbee with Bobby Cuenca and the Sallees. Mia called Bobby with the assurance of a well-positioned table. I didn’t ask him if the feng shui said so!
Promises accomplished. The company was the primary reason for the evening. I knew it would go “just swell.” No reporting about the drama of clothes… although Celine Lopez had the winning body-hugging gown with tiny black and white ruffles from Dennis Lustico. It was a mixture of a warm invite and slyness without being over-zealous. I loved it! And Tina was in her luxurious skirt and abundant sleeves of European provenance. And even if the feathers were shedding from Lucille’s gown, her pure-as-water diamond earrings and teardrop ring was as luminous as the ballroom’s chandeliers; and Louie, dainty in her blue sapphire necklace. Everyone was in her fairest hour. Our repertoire was light: among trusted friends, without an ounce of pretense among us, nor criticism for anyone.
Yearly at Shangri-La Makati, Philippine Tatler lays out its generosity to thank patrons and entice the public to buy a rather too-reasonably-priced magazine at P200. We agreed to voluntarily contribute P2,500 to help build a home for orphans. From the soft sell, we appreciated we couldn’t but join Irene Martel Francisco’s “Cause For An Abandoned Child.” We had, after all, received invitations with no strings attached. That may account for the event being packed to the rafters and presented with such aplomb.
An observation was that accessories were sedate compared to the Marcos era and neither were they overly austere like Cory’s years. The younger crowd dominated the event with mother’s sparklers or pasted accessories. Nevertheless, they carried it off brilliantly. It was the fewer older women who, in appearance and dignity, sparkled because of their many accomplishments — like Isabel Wilson, Chloe Romulo-Periquet, Mely Hechanova and others.
Photos flashed on the giant stage, showing handsome men and women, past covers of Tatler certifying its trendiness and sophistication, while women bared their backs and bosoms for the benefit of the men in the audience… Rajo, Nick, Bobby, Maurice did justice to the tuxedos they wear only once a year. But not Anton, who was with his many travels representing Tatler Manila; nor Johnny Litton, the most desired emcee, who wears his tux, in all likelihood, 200 days out of the year onstage!
I smiled inwardly thinking how my young officers would say, ”Behold, an apparition… it’s a dream watching these best-dressed women.” I’d possibly reply, “Stop staring!” “Impossible to not stare! How much more impossible to escort anyone!” they’d answer.
The brightness that night was a tender delight. One can’t compare this with the tough precision of a “pass-in-review” by the Cadet Corps. No Ferragamo shoes, Kate Spade, Prada, Bally, Florsheim — they would get stuck in the mud; just charol-issued shoes for girls and boys and men of senior ranks but still of equal importance.
“Excuse me,” I once asked. “What is pass-in-review?” To walk in front of the stoic troops who don’t seem to see anyone. That’s “reviewing.” For civilians, it would seem like a snub. What a tremendous difference when I compare even a simple haircut between women in the service and women in the limelight. We can change our hairstyles in a moment’s decision for P300 to P2,000. Female cadets, meanwhile, pay P35 for a “barber’s cut” twice a month to shear the hair above the ears like a little boy, depending on the year level. First Class or graduating cadet’s hair, for girls, must be barely touching the ear and never the collar. Second Class or those in the third year are allowed one finger above the ear and one finger above the collar. All Third Class cadet hair must be two fingers above the ear; at the nape, two fingers from the collar. And, for the Fourth Class or those in first year, hair should be three fingers above the ear and three fingers above the collar. The front of the hair should be above the eyebrows. Whether they look like Demi Moore in the movie G.I. Jane or not…
So Tina Ocampo may envision alligator or mother of pearl bags and Bea Valdes draw designs of swirling beads and tassels. Always, motivation differs. The differences in lifestyles are inspiring although social classes may be poles apart. One is filled with flashing bulbs, the other watching over us, muttering: “From the time you wake up and turn off your air conditioners, to the hours you lock your doors at night, to driving on roads, to rehabilitation of the man who stole your wallet… we’re going to be around.” Opportunities may vary but at the end of the day it’s how we used what we have to win the universe with the will to succeed behind all odds.
I know a petite young woman from PNPA Class ’07. Her name is Andrea Gasic. Last week she won the World Shoot Competition in Bali, Indonesia, held every three years. She earned the Championship of the World Shoot-Off, Man vs. Man – Women Category, and was second runner-up for the Production Category soliciting travel funds.
Me? On one of those evenings at a camp, we had gone to the firing range and an Armalite was handed over to me. Of course, after being instructed on where to aim it, I suddenly turned around to ask, “Where, again?” Everyone fell to the ground. Others ran for cover behind cement pillars. On another occasion I was given a .45 caliber pistol. After listening intently to the instructions, I hit the bull’s-eye. Wow! What a steady hand I had. What 20-20 vision I possessed.
Years later, in 2006, I met Colonel Jun Posadas, aide of General Vinarao at a grand graduation rite. He confessed to me that he was ordered by General Vinarao to stand on the rooftop of the firing range viewing stand and aim and fire his gun simultaneously with mine. He hit the bull’s-eye, not me. Shucks! Those guys had taken me for a ride, taking away my self-confidence 16 years later. Me, try to be a markswoman? Never again.
A woman always engages in multi-tasking: from overseeing dry-cleaned clothes to selling bags and fetching children to scolding housemaids. She cooks, she goes to work, she tutors — whew! — and more. I endlessly act the role of a doting mother realizing that all I need as I grow older is a few true friends who think like I do. There’s so much to be thankful for, waking up every day after a good night’s sleep. So much to laugh about. Our failing eyesight. A text sent to the wrong person. Playing doctor and subscribing medicine when there are real experts about. Being more careful about stairs and glass doors because we’re not wearing eyeglasses. Hiding our tummies behind corsets. That’s about as breathless as we can get — about ourselves, our comparisons and events like the Tatler Ball.
