I’ve always wondered what it would be like to live in Malate. Over the years, I’ve been a pseudo-citizen of this fascinating district. I’ve noshed at its restaurants and been sloshed at its bars, lounged in its cafes and snoozed in its hotels. There’s always been something about the character and vibe of this place that keeps drawing me into its intricate web.
I’ve found many cities around the world who cultivate funky neighborhoods like Malate. Mexico City has La Condesa, a hip new neighborhood that attracts the city’s young artists, and a slew of trendy bars and restaurants. Buenos Aires has La Boca where many of its warehouses have been converted into artist’s lofts. Barcelona has El Born where you find chic sandwich shops next to sneaker stores. Berlin has the Mitte district filled with vintage clothing stores and slick furniture galleries. Tokyo Las Ebisu, where you find funky Jap-Italian/Jap-French cafes and avant-garde designer labels. I’ve discovered that many of these neighborhoods have parallel histories. In some instances, they were old industrial spaces that have become defunct, due to a shift from manufacturing to service-oriented economies. In other cases, these areas were formerly occupied by the city’s elite that has since moved on to quieter suburban areas. A great many cities have developed this pattern of informal urban regeneration, usually led by artist communities in search of affordable but interesting living quarters.
Malate is an example of this evolutionary species, although it is interesting to note that Malate itself was a suburb of old Manila, when Intramuros was the city center. It’s almost strange to think that there was a time when Intramuros was the center of the city and going to Malate was like heading out to Alabang or Cubao. At the beginning of the 20th century, an American developed Malate as a suburban alternative to living in the cramped spaces of Intramuros and central Manila. He parceled the lots to have single detached homes (like we have in Makati subdivisions), put in underground sewage systems (high tech in those days), and named the streets after American states. These streets were renamed to bear Filipino names, but some people still remember streets like Nebraska and Ohio Streets. There was a butcher shop that closed down a few years ago that was called Nebraska Meat Shop. Malate soon became a tony neighborhood where the city’s elite had expansive mansions, the grandest of which were on Dewey Boulevard, fronting the magnificent bay. If you drive on Roxas Boulevard and look closely, you’ll see the remnants of a few of these mansions that serve as a reminder of glories past.
Over the years, the city and its population grew. By the 1930s apartments were a new way of living and some fantastic buildings were built in the area. Both economics and technology influenced landowners to make better use of their land by building higher and renting out more units. Both Filipino and foreign architects designed such period gems as the international style Syquia and Carmen Apartments, the Art Deco Michelle, Angela and Rosaria Apartments and many more that are no longer around. Much of Malate was destroyed when the Americans bombed Manila in World War II. Some of these buildings were rebuilt, but only a few remain today. The development of Makati in the late 1950s was the killer blow to Old Manila. Businesses moved from Escolta to Makati’s expansive environs and shiny new office buildings, while Malate’s elite moved to the leafy gated communities of San Lorenzo Village, Bel-Air (back when it really was still good air) and Forbes Park. Thus, Malate slid into a period of anonymity and vagrancy. And this is when Malate’s renaissance begins.
Beginning in the 1970s, an artists’ community began to form in the area, led primarily by fashion designers who moved into the old manors and began sprucing them up. Malate became a nightlife destination in Manila’s jet set era with the disco Coco Banana’s as its plaza mayor. The 1980s continued the trend with galleries, bars and cafes such as Penguin and Blue Cafe opening its doors to the cognoscenti. Malate became home to writers, photographers, fashion designers, restaurateurs, painters, and all other creative types who could gather in its cafes to discuss their craft. But the area was also home to professionals and students, adding to the neighborhood’s already diverse population.
The 1990s brought in more institutions such as Insomnia, Republic of Malate and the Verve Room. Malate as an entertainment destination reached a zenith in the late 1990s, when street parties and the rave scene brought hordes of young people from all over the metropolis to dance in the streets. Everyone and their brother was plotting on setting up a bar on Nakpil, the epicenter of Metro Manila’s nightlife. Then the Fort opened, and Manila’s fickle party people shifted yet again to descend on another new hotspot. The party tide has shifted several more times, a few Malate venues have changed. Some people say that it’s all gone commercial now, and that bohemian vibe is no longer there. Some of the vanguards have even packed up and moved to the newer territories of Pasay City. But I disagree. The vibe is still there, you just need to look a little harder, past the Coyote Ugly bars or the Sports Bars selling buckets of San Mig Lite. I still feel it when I have dinner with my friends at the area’s great restaurants. Seeing multi-racial, pan-sexual, caste-free groups of people having very un-Makati conversations just nourishes my soul.
I’d really love to pack up my bags and take root in Malate. I’ve already taken the first step by leaving my Makati subdivision home and moving to an apartment, although it’s still in Makati. My current excuse is that my job requires me to be close to the CBD. But I’ve promised myself that someday soon I’ll make the move. I can hardly wait.
For comments, write to: ystylecrew@yahoo.com