An introduction to it-ness
June 20, 2003 | 12:00am
It-: an ambiguous adjective attached right before a noun to denote being the focus of attention, the archetype of the moment, or the latest societal vogue.
To coin oneself as an it-boy, frankly, can be considered quite assuming and totally uncouth. This column, and every article contained therein, shall be not only a chronicle of the twilight zone called my life but also a constant study of this "gracious" social title. That is, if each comment, story, and candid picture to be published in this page compels the reader to consistently wonder: "This strange boy truly lives in a bubble," then this column has truly served its purpose. Lets begin.
I guess to the untrained eye, one could easily interchange the terms popularity and it-ness. In the course of my previously unpopular, non-it life, I have seen many manifestations of the earlier social condition. In my all-boy high school, the popularity competition was always a toss-up between the basketball players, the goonish types, and the PR officers/ soiree organizers. However, as I went through my co-ed college, I noticed that these people ironically lost their leverage in the university social structure. That is, their alpha-male antics, which had earlier placed them on a pedestal in a male society, just could not compete with the highly-socialized and polished co-ed set of bar-rats, coños, and soccer players. However, all these people mentioned, at the end of the day, can only be considered as popular non-its. I realize that it-ness contains a unique inherent feature: coming out in the papers.
Its quite thrilling to really come out in the papers for the first time. Really, in this case, means that you arent just some person in the picture in the society section of some daily or magazine under the caption "friend" or "et al." Rather, you are quite a star in your own photographic right. Personally, my first brush with it-ness got pressed out as model for a prom shoot. I remember quizzically talking to Rose Montenegro, a high school friend and model veteran, about the ins and outs of being a professional poser. Several weeks later, I got a call on my cell from her and Celine Gabriel, a model herself and a PR executive. They wanted me to fill-in as a model for a high school teeny-bopper prom shoot since the original male model backed out.
So with my blue suit and tie and a pack of hair gel, I get inducted to my first shoot. It was quite fun actually. Its like role playing but with a narcissistic slant where everybody laughs about how each other is trying to give out a "look" for the picture, shuts up for that one-second flash, and accosts the digital camera man to see if they look decent enough to be seen by a gazillion people they dont know. After two hours of doing just that, I go home anxious about how I will soon register with the printing press. Two weeks later, I open the lifestyle section of the papers and see myself half a ruler tall and one-fourth a ruler wide in colored ink with my name in bold black ink. Its quite strange to see a composed picture of yourself in the papers. Morbidly speaking, its somewhat like attending your own funeral but your corpse is very groomed-up and two-dimensional as about 200,000 people look at your casket.
Anyway, the day the pictures came out, I remember sending and receiving texts from the other models, recognizing actually borderline congratulating each other on an exercise of vanity well-done. At this early stage I noticed that people, including myself at that time, who still are not used to coming out in the papers actually often call or text each other about it, as if to affirm that they were immortalized or larger-than-life for just that particular day. I suppose some people could even consider coming out in the papers as an accomplishment just like winning an award, getting a high grade, or receiving a raise. Anyway that week, I showed my parents and friends in an unsolicited manner, the triumph of my color-printed self.
Of course, from personal experience, there are generally four types of reactions that people give about other people who come out in the papers. Interestingly, I notice that these reactions are also a direct function of the kind of people they are. First, is the nonchalant reaction. I got this response from my friend Abba Napa who grew up abroad and is quite disinterested with showbiz as she can name drop more management theorists than artistas. She truly didnt care about my face in the papers and speaks of it like any other non-earth shaking activity like changing the tires. Secondly, theres the eager-beaver reaction. I saw this right away with my other friend Mika Bautista who loves dressing well, looking good, and talking about the latest supposed girlfriend of her artista crushes. She was so excited for me and even started rambling about how she loved the one time she modeled for a college fashion show. Then, theres the seemingly negative but interested reaction. My other friend Nicole de Castro, a charmingly sarcastic soul, used to plan and market rave events. She snubbed my attempt at printed fame with rolling eyes and words to match. However, after unleashing such harshness, a certain hidden inquisitiveness surfaced as she smilingly asked about the details of shoot. Finally, theres the revolted response. Honestly, I still havent figured out what drives people to have such an unconstructive even borderline mean response regarding people who come out in such pictures. Of course, I cannot give names to embody this reaction but from following my cause and effect theory, I suppose that this is due to something in their personality. Envy, myopia, personal unhappiness, elitism, or outright meanness are only a few personality traits I can imagine which could trigger such a response.
In any case, little did I know that a once-in-a-lifetime teeny bopper shoot for a newspaper press release would actually be the first of a gazillion other photo opportunities in my evolution from an average bar-rat who liked to go out with college friends, to an inbox checker of bar marketing texts as well as a usual suspect attendee of almost every so-called social exercise.
Perhaps, to truly understand and define the term it-boy, one must look at other similar it-boys and find their common characteristics which somehow drive the event photographer to take their picture or prompt a society columnist to actually name-drop them in bold italics. Perhaps, finding these commonalities will help me unlock the secret of my own supposed it-ness. A friend of mine, Keren Pascual, is a triple-A rated events organizer with an arsenal of contacts from artistas to models to socialites and press people to any function. We were having sunset mocha-rum shakes with some friends in Boracay when we decided to kill time by coming up with a short list of it-boys of the moment. It took about a long hour to scan our brains to come up with the following names: Paolo Paraiso, Paolo Trillo, David Jacob, Piolo Pascual, TJ Manotoc and Borgy Manotoc.
So what do all these people have in common? In my opinion, each it-boy seems to project an ideal lifestyle which most people would love trade-in for their prosaic lives. David is marketed as CEO by day and roaming DJ by night. Showbiz types like Piolo will always be on the list as they lead dream-like lives of movie and TV tapings, song recordings, and product endorsing. Similarly, models like Paolo P. are also mainstays as we imagine them walk ramps, throw signature poses, and look great in front of a battery flash. Looking closer at Borgy, TJ, and Paolo T., I suppose you could classify them under the it-boy sub-category which carries familiar last names and faces that can luckily act more as human magnets. TJ carries with him the it-ness of his athletic father and his beauty queen mother as Borgy treasures that of the same father and his political mother, while Paolo T. not only rings hoops but also as an it-wine and dine scion.
As for yours truly, I also find myself, whether it, soon-to-be-it, or somewhere in it-between, or just delusionally-it, greatly defined by the tall accomplishments of both sides of my family. All I know is that aside from loving my family to death, I am enjoying every moment of currently being an investment banker by day and model, social caterpillar, and just recently photo-columnist by night.
To coin oneself as an it-boy, frankly, can be considered quite assuming and totally uncouth. This column, and every article contained therein, shall be not only a chronicle of the twilight zone called my life but also a constant study of this "gracious" social title. That is, if each comment, story, and candid picture to be published in this page compels the reader to consistently wonder: "This strange boy truly lives in a bubble," then this column has truly served its purpose. Lets begin.
I guess to the untrained eye, one could easily interchange the terms popularity and it-ness. In the course of my previously unpopular, non-it life, I have seen many manifestations of the earlier social condition. In my all-boy high school, the popularity competition was always a toss-up between the basketball players, the goonish types, and the PR officers/ soiree organizers. However, as I went through my co-ed college, I noticed that these people ironically lost their leverage in the university social structure. That is, their alpha-male antics, which had earlier placed them on a pedestal in a male society, just could not compete with the highly-socialized and polished co-ed set of bar-rats, coños, and soccer players. However, all these people mentioned, at the end of the day, can only be considered as popular non-its. I realize that it-ness contains a unique inherent feature: coming out in the papers.
Its quite thrilling to really come out in the papers for the first time. Really, in this case, means that you arent just some person in the picture in the society section of some daily or magazine under the caption "friend" or "et al." Rather, you are quite a star in your own photographic right. Personally, my first brush with it-ness got pressed out as model for a prom shoot. I remember quizzically talking to Rose Montenegro, a high school friend and model veteran, about the ins and outs of being a professional poser. Several weeks later, I got a call on my cell from her and Celine Gabriel, a model herself and a PR executive. They wanted me to fill-in as a model for a high school teeny-bopper prom shoot since the original male model backed out.
So with my blue suit and tie and a pack of hair gel, I get inducted to my first shoot. It was quite fun actually. Its like role playing but with a narcissistic slant where everybody laughs about how each other is trying to give out a "look" for the picture, shuts up for that one-second flash, and accosts the digital camera man to see if they look decent enough to be seen by a gazillion people they dont know. After two hours of doing just that, I go home anxious about how I will soon register with the printing press. Two weeks later, I open the lifestyle section of the papers and see myself half a ruler tall and one-fourth a ruler wide in colored ink with my name in bold black ink. Its quite strange to see a composed picture of yourself in the papers. Morbidly speaking, its somewhat like attending your own funeral but your corpse is very groomed-up and two-dimensional as about 200,000 people look at your casket.
Anyway, the day the pictures came out, I remember sending and receiving texts from the other models, recognizing actually borderline congratulating each other on an exercise of vanity well-done. At this early stage I noticed that people, including myself at that time, who still are not used to coming out in the papers actually often call or text each other about it, as if to affirm that they were immortalized or larger-than-life for just that particular day. I suppose some people could even consider coming out in the papers as an accomplishment just like winning an award, getting a high grade, or receiving a raise. Anyway that week, I showed my parents and friends in an unsolicited manner, the triumph of my color-printed self.
Of course, from personal experience, there are generally four types of reactions that people give about other people who come out in the papers. Interestingly, I notice that these reactions are also a direct function of the kind of people they are. First, is the nonchalant reaction. I got this response from my friend Abba Napa who grew up abroad and is quite disinterested with showbiz as she can name drop more management theorists than artistas. She truly didnt care about my face in the papers and speaks of it like any other non-earth shaking activity like changing the tires. Secondly, theres the eager-beaver reaction. I saw this right away with my other friend Mika Bautista who loves dressing well, looking good, and talking about the latest supposed girlfriend of her artista crushes. She was so excited for me and even started rambling about how she loved the one time she modeled for a college fashion show. Then, theres the seemingly negative but interested reaction. My other friend Nicole de Castro, a charmingly sarcastic soul, used to plan and market rave events. She snubbed my attempt at printed fame with rolling eyes and words to match. However, after unleashing such harshness, a certain hidden inquisitiveness surfaced as she smilingly asked about the details of shoot. Finally, theres the revolted response. Honestly, I still havent figured out what drives people to have such an unconstructive even borderline mean response regarding people who come out in such pictures. Of course, I cannot give names to embody this reaction but from following my cause and effect theory, I suppose that this is due to something in their personality. Envy, myopia, personal unhappiness, elitism, or outright meanness are only a few personality traits I can imagine which could trigger such a response.
In any case, little did I know that a once-in-a-lifetime teeny bopper shoot for a newspaper press release would actually be the first of a gazillion other photo opportunities in my evolution from an average bar-rat who liked to go out with college friends, to an inbox checker of bar marketing texts as well as a usual suspect attendee of almost every so-called social exercise.
Perhaps, to truly understand and define the term it-boy, one must look at other similar it-boys and find their common characteristics which somehow drive the event photographer to take their picture or prompt a society columnist to actually name-drop them in bold italics. Perhaps, finding these commonalities will help me unlock the secret of my own supposed it-ness. A friend of mine, Keren Pascual, is a triple-A rated events organizer with an arsenal of contacts from artistas to models to socialites and press people to any function. We were having sunset mocha-rum shakes with some friends in Boracay when we decided to kill time by coming up with a short list of it-boys of the moment. It took about a long hour to scan our brains to come up with the following names: Paolo Paraiso, Paolo Trillo, David Jacob, Piolo Pascual, TJ Manotoc and Borgy Manotoc.
So what do all these people have in common? In my opinion, each it-boy seems to project an ideal lifestyle which most people would love trade-in for their prosaic lives. David is marketed as CEO by day and roaming DJ by night. Showbiz types like Piolo will always be on the list as they lead dream-like lives of movie and TV tapings, song recordings, and product endorsing. Similarly, models like Paolo P. are also mainstays as we imagine them walk ramps, throw signature poses, and look great in front of a battery flash. Looking closer at Borgy, TJ, and Paolo T., I suppose you could classify them under the it-boy sub-category which carries familiar last names and faces that can luckily act more as human magnets. TJ carries with him the it-ness of his athletic father and his beauty queen mother as Borgy treasures that of the same father and his political mother, while Paolo T. not only rings hoops but also as an it-wine and dine scion.
As for yours truly, I also find myself, whether it, soon-to-be-it, or somewhere in it-between, or just delusionally-it, greatly defined by the tall accomplishments of both sides of my family. All I know is that aside from loving my family to death, I am enjoying every moment of currently being an investment banker by day and model, social caterpillar, and just recently photo-columnist by night.
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