In memory of Mel

It’s always nice to remember a smile. For those of us who knew fashion designer/former Young Designer’s Guild (YDG) president Mel Vergel de Dios, that cherubic grin he always wore somehow gives comfort against the terrible circumstances of his death. Last week, his body was found in a car parked in Fairview by security guards – the victim of a brutal murder. His driver saw him last at 11:50 pm when Mel dropped him off on Edsa. According to the authorities, Mel died around 12 midnight from injuries sustained from trauma to the head and body. A cord was tied around his neck; a plastic bag was over his head. It is believed that he came home and was attacked in the basement of his family’s building. It was a truly an ugly and undeserved death, especially painful to those of us who must deal with the fact that we can only experience the genuine warmth of Mel’s smile in memory.

Mel was a teacher. He graduated with a degree in education and taught a variety of subjects in schools like Poveda and Angelicum before pursuing his interest in fashion. As those in YDG during his tenure will attest, Mel never stopped being an educator, always there to offer guidance to anyone who needed it. "He was strict," recalls fashion designer and friend Jojie Lloren when asked to describe Mel as a leader, "but he never scolded anyone without reason." No one could really begrudge Mel for using his authority to keep everyone in line because – as any of them can attest – he was most likely to be in the right. Of course, he would also flash that smile and everyone would be appeased. Like all great teachers, he knew just the right balance to get his point across.

Warm and generous are the two most common words used to describe Mel. This can’t be overstated. As anyone who had the privilege of knowing Mel can attest, he was never hungry for the spotlight, often concentrating his efforts to push for the interests of those under him. It is no surprise that under his leadership the YDG became the prestigious and respected organization it is today. "It was always important for him that the group was at the forefront," explains Jojie.

But Mel’s generosity extended to anyone. During our last trip to Paris, to accompany the Philippine delegation competing there for the Paris design competition, it was not uncommon to find Mel carrying the bags of the neophyte contestants without complaint or fanfare. Without hesitation, he attended to everyone’s needs, be it procuring jackets for those of us who hadn’t brought ample protection for the cold; or just cooking dinner to save us money. (One of the coolest memories I have of our trip to Paris was eating a sumptuous meal of bistek and steaming hot rice prepared by Mel and Jojie Lloren.) Back home, Mel helped a lot of people, like the poor family who lived on the lot beside his building. Aside from regularly sending food, Mel went even so far as to look for employment for the father.

Perhaps the most telling story about Mel was something my wife, Yvonne, related to me. Both of them had just come from a business meeting with the managers of a mall. Rushing out to go to another meeting, they saw that Mel’s brand new car was covered in debris from the construction being done on the mall’s exterior. Instead of making a fuss, Mel just said that since the management of the mall was always good to him he was willing to let it pass. My wife says that his trademark smile never faded one bit.

For those reading this who didn’t know him, you might be thinking that I’m painting an overgenerous picture of Mel. You would be mistaken in that regard because honestly I’m not that good of a writer to really convey to you how beautiful a person Mel was. He really was. Another friend, photographer Juan Caguicla, tells me that he hates nothing more when we make people saints just because they died. "But in Mel’s case, he really was such a good person," according to Juan, "he is worthy of all the praise."

Although it’s hard for us to accept his death, we know that after a lifetime of being selfless Mel is now at rest, his smile beaming on other shores now. We’ll miss him dearly. - By Erwin Romulo

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One could say that my friendship with Mel Vergel de Dios was a shallow one. We only knew each other for a short time, since we met a few years ago when I was inducted into the Fashion Design Council (FDCP). The only socializing we ever did was when we would chit-chat in between FDCP events and meetings, talk about our outfits, share a cigarette or a quick bite. We were classmates in Jojie Lloren’s patternmaking class, too. That’s about it. But for some reason, I always had a soft spot for him. Being one of the newbies in FDCP can be quite daunting, especially when you’re not a couturier like most of the members are. But he was among those who made me feel at ease. He didn’t look at me as a threat or competition, he didn’t mock me for my inexperience. He was never cold or mataray. In fact, it was rare that he didn’t have a smile on his face or a glint in his eye. I secretly admired him for his focus, dedication, involvement, hard work, talent and even his own sense of style. I clearly remember his vintage-y floral shirt with grosgrain piping and his cute striped socks that night he was killed. From six to nine thirty that evening, there was an FDCP meeting which he led as our research and development head. He even cooked and brought pasta for all of us. I guess it’s these little things that always struck a cord with me. And why, now, I am grieving for him as if he were an old friend.

I once read that the more you grieve for someone’s passing, the harder it will be for their spirit to move on. Because they will naturally want to comfort those grieving for them, their spirit tends to linger instead of heading for their next destination. After his frightening and traumatic passing from our world, I am certain Mel’s spirit wants to soar into the love, light and warmth of an eternal existence. So I shall speak no more of my sadness or of the events leading to his tragic death. Let us relish and celebrate instead all the beauty that he shared with us through his amazing work. We will never forget you.

"Every king was once a helpless baby, every wave once a ripple, and every structure once a blueprint. It’s not where you are now, but where you are going that counts." - By Hindy Tantoco