The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Man, I am a BAD blogger. :|

The last couple of weeks have been hellish, what with closing two issues for next year, and the last thing I wanted to do was write something I wasn't being paid for. Now that I'm on Holiday Mode though, spreading all the love and warmth and goodwill and all that jazz is starting to look pretty good. That, and my mom's been giving me The Look for working on this post for so long.

It's all Photobucket's fault, with their wonky programs. Swear.

So this is for you, Mom. Finally got it up. Merry Christmas!

---

Filipinos are notorious for having an absolute mania for Christmas. Mall speakers start playing carols the minute the calendar turns to September, prices of quezo de bola and ham are suddenly much, much higher than they used to be, and relatives start pouring in from every corner of the world. What really gets a lot of people excited --or stressed, however you wish to look at it -- is the impending moment that dusty cartons of Christmas decorations can be pulled out of storage, and suddenly, houses are decked out in holly and tinsel and millions of lights and gyrating statues of Santa Clause and/or his herd of fluorescent-nosed reindeer.

Thankfully, my mother manages to control her domestic, Martha Stewart-esque urges long enough to start decorating in the latter weeks of November, or even, horror of horrors, December.

Some weeks ago, our house looked like this. As of the first of this month, it transformed into my mother's metallic holiday project.

(Shameless Plugging Time: If you are in any way interested in interior design, DIY projects, or pretty things in general, you should take a look at the blog 40 and Beyond by my mom's good friend, Tita Irene. She updates often, and is a much more responsible blogger than I am.)

[Disclaimer: I take crappy photos. Sorry.]



The image above is what I have been coming home to. I'd like to think the décor is subtle and tasteful, hinting at the holidays rather than screaming “HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS! *BLINKING LIGHTS*”



Two wreaths within a six-foot distance of each other. We like the holidays at our house, obviously.



My mother's pride and joy, our tree is metallic, glowy and decked out in ornaments she's found mostly from this store in Makati that opens only in November and December, and has insanely low prices. We're talking sometimes Php 20 15 (!!!) a piece here. That's less than a candy bar.













So shiny.



Did I mention that, aside from two wreaths, we also have two trees? This is her “country” tree. I sigh. It's all I can do.



Little houses that light up are an endless source of amusement. If you have old Barbie dolls laying around, you can set up your own remake of “The Attack of the 50-Foot Woman.” I may or may not have had a misspent childhood.



This is adorable, admit it.



We keep the Santa figurines under control. Keeping the themed decorations together keeps the look whimsical, yet subtle.I've seen homes that looked like a retirement home for North Pole citizens. Not cool.



You know it's almost Christmas when my mom brings out her red candles.





The main features of her vignettes are still there, but given a holiday glamour treatment. (Typing that just killed me.)



Really, it's the tiny details that I love. I think I'll get Mom a plush Eiffel Tower, just to see whether the aesthetic/sentimental/Francophile conflict will make her head explode.

(I didn't mean that, Mom, really.)

Note: All photos were taken on November 25, 2010, which was weeks before the full force of the Christmas Spirit took over the household. What you have just seen is a mere drop in the tiny ocean of decorating fever. Consider it a favor.

Cebu: Lechon and Everything After

In an earlier post, I said I would be posting pictures from my overnight trip to Cebu, and seeing as how four years of college have hammered the phrase "journalistic integrity" (I think it's journalistic integrity... it could be ethics. Or something like that. You know what I mean.) into my brain, I am compelled to provide you, dear reader, with a visual tour of Things Gaby Saw/Did/Ate.

First up, the main reason I was given a couple of days out of the office and sent to Cebu, the Radisson Blu hotel. The result of a partnership between the SM Corporation and the Carlson hotel chain, it is an unassuming business hotel with fabulous service, speedy WiFi, and really delicious dessert.



The hotel's facade

It's also a stone's throw away from what Wikipedia says is the world's 18th largest mall. Of course I had to go. And yes, it's just like every other SM in the world, with the exception of the newly-built (renovated?) North Wing, which features the higher-end stores. On sale. It took an inordinate amount of will-power -- as well as the realization that I had to fly back to Manila with about ten kilos added to my luggage if I gave in -- that kept me from shopping. I have a disease, I tell you.

Fine, I'll admit, I got a pair of really cute shoes. Twenty percent off. Win.

The hotel opening and ribbon cutting was this massive affair, with corporate moguls, CEOs, and pretty much the VIP of all Philippine VIPs right now:



Yep

President Benigno Simeon Aquino III. Not only Kris' older brother, but more importantly, the fifteenth president of the Republic of the Philippines. He snipped the ribbon, gave what I'd like to think was a very good address, and then left for another meeting. And I thought my schedule was hectic.

I just wrote about the president on my blog. How cool and serious is that? Anyway, moving on.



My view

I should start making this a regular feature. "Gaby's Room (With A View)" or whathaveyou. Too commercial, I think, but whatever. It's a work in progress. This picture is pretty hilarious though. Half tropical paradise, half paved parking lot. Joni Mitchell would have found this hilarious, no? ...Maybe not.



Sample-size sweets.
I was, however, momentarily distracted by this plate of desserts so thoughtfully placed in my room. All were delicious, particularly because they were all mine. I also have two notorious soft spots –and a separate stomach-- for chocolate, in any form, and carrot cake.

Dinner, the next morning's breakfast, and then dinner before leaving for the airport, were at the hotel's restaurant, Feria.



It was there that I realized just how much I'm aging; years, even months ago, buffets were my domain, my specialty. Now, a buffet --particularly one that is separated into stations for appetizers, entrees, dimsum, and dessert -- has turned from a smorgasbord of delights into an overwhelming array that short circuits my brain.

Because I'm a horrible journalist, I totally forgot to take pictures of the party celebrating the opening, which took place the night we arrived. Was way too reliant on the SLR-toting members of the group. Whoopsies.

The next morning, a surprisingly upbeat and fresh group began a tour of Cebu. Our first stop:



Kenneth Cobonpue's showroom and workshop

I'm not the biggest fan of minimalist design, but some of his stuff was just undeniably pretty. See for yourself:



A bed inspired by the architechture of the Hagia Sophia. Awesome.


Lighting is important. Kenneth Cobonpue knows this, apparently.


I'm not sure if this is the piece they were referring to, but the chismis is that Brad Pitt owns one of these.


Cuteness. This.




I like beds, can't you tell?



For lunch, we were taken to where they make The Greatest and Best Pork in the World. Blogger Marketman, or Joel, which is about as much as Google knows about his real name, made some of his infamous Zubuchon, along with some other non-porky dishes for the group.




Dude. Duuuuude. Duuuuuuuude. The lechon was like... like if traditional Cebu lechon and lechon kawali had babies. Flavor from the bones, with crispy skin because they make hundreds of tiny little holes in the pig prior to cooking.

Duuuuude. And the little one? Truffle lechon. I'm going to say that again: truffle. Lechon. The man is insane. Like, seriously, who thinks of this stuff? It's like bacon ice cream. But, you know, good. Or lechon sinigang. Stuff you'd never put together.




Oh. Wait a minute. That's lechon sinigang right there. Cue a round of maniacal laughter.





The aforementioned non-porky stuff

After lunch and what can only be described as a food coma, the group was shuttled off to, um, a jewelry store. That makes pretty things. Like rings and pendants and bangles. Yeah. But the real highlight of the trip lay outside the factory:




Sheep. On someone's front lawn. There were two, actually, but this one was closer. Too bad he wasn't looking.

The rest of the trip was pretty much downhill from there. Because really, sheep. Sheep.

I should end all posts with images of sheep.

For more non-sheep-related information, you can call the Radisson Blu Hotel at +63 32 402 9900 and look for Ms. Mary Joan Danao, who is a lovely, patient person, who managed to deal with a group of 20 squealing journalists for a full day without wanting to stab any of us, or so I'd like to think. Tell her Gaby sent you. You can also visit the hotel's website if you want to make your own blog post of what [Insert Your Name Here] Saw/Did/Ate.

Several Things

1) I'm angry at Starbucks for discontinuing my beloved Lemon Poppy Seed Muffins. If they've also broken your heart, The Muffin Movement, a page borne out of too much caffeine, frustration, and the lack of a licensing body on the internet, might be worth a look.

2) Globe Telecom is kind of a pain sometimes. Boo.


3) I'm in Cebu! Yaaaaay! Pictures to follow. :)

Oh. Hello.

My last post was a month ago??? Man, I am horrible at this blogging thing.

Just wanted to let you know I'm not dead and that I will, sometime in the near future, attempt to resuscitate this page with mirth and wonder and glee and magic and pretty things and polar bears and lipstick and dinosaurs and stuff.

But now I'm going to leave you with something that's been making me smile the past couple of days:


Ewoks!

J.D.

I have a work mug now, which officially makes me an employee, or as my friend Macky put it, a "corporate drone."

His name is J.D. and I think he's very, very pretty. He has good weight, and holds enough coffee to last me through one story. He was also half-off at the Gourdo's sale. Win.

Think Pink

Really, really pink.

Being in such close proximity to a mall with a Rustan's has today proven to be very, very bad for my already hyperventilating bank account. Today's lunch/shopping date with friends resulted in the not-so-impulsive purchase of what is possibly one of the most shocking and prettiest colors I've seen in powder form.




NARS Blush in "Desire." Obviously.

Isn't it wonderful? It's exactly as their website describes it: a "cotton candy pink." And I am not the type to turn down candy. Plus points for having a name I can freely say in front of my grandmother. I also think I have a highlighter - by which I mean the office supplies and not the cosmetic kind - in the exact color.

I owe so many swatches already; there are still those BeneFit minis to work on.

Also, has anyone noticed that the lighting in Rustan's Shangri-La is probably the worst possible kind for a makeup section? Accuracy in color is of the highest importance when testing makeup - I don't think I want to imagine shopping for foundation there - and those dim, yellow bulbs they use make the various nuances in shade and tone disappear. Pity.

Pretty Grungy

As some of you may know, one of the bands that pretty much made up a third of the soundtrack to an entire decade, Gin Blossoms, is coming to Manila. This has somehow triggered my nostalgic nerve, which has made me almost giddy that the 90s are slowly worming their way back into the mainstream aesthetic. Or so I'd like to think.



Channeling this look is pretty much what I've been obsessed with right now. Unfortunately, seeing as don't have the beautiful ageless pixie appeal Ms. Ryder over here possesses - because seriously, the woman hasn't aged since "How To Make An American Quilt" - I'll have to be satisfied with wearing minimal makeup and floral dresses with boots. Which brings me to mention just how much I want those shoes from the F/W 2010 Dior ad campaign:



And that gorgeously flimsy dress. And those legs.

Also, I'm still a little bit concerned about this whole no-mascara trend that's been popping up everywhere. It demands model-esque perfect skin and bone structure, which, let's face it, I don't have. I am worried. Very, very worried. I think an investment in a good eyelash growth enhancer might make me feel better about this trend. Or I could just remind myself that it's a trend and that it will eventually go away, else someone will have to pry my tube of Lash Blast Fusion from my cold, dead fingers.

The Boots

I have boots now. Rather, Boots, with a capital B, for I have been looking for a pair of black biker boots that didn't cost an arm and a leg, and I have finally found them. This is epic. They are The Boots. And, they were only HKD 299 from a store called Ying Shoes. That's cheap, considering a pair of trendy party shoes in Shoemart, which has always touted itself as the place for supposedly affordable footwear is around a ludicrous Php2,500 now. I love SM, but they've seriously jacked up prices to the point that I go WTF. I guess I'm expecting too much. Or am much too cheap. So sue me. I'm a Starving Artist (also capitalized.)

I also got these at Ying:



They're pretty and bohemian and hurt my feet when I walk too much in them. However, for HKD 100, pretty is more than enough.

I totally get why women go crazy over shoes now.

Not Your Usual Nine to Five

I feel like a legitimate journalist now.

It all started when, while thrifting at the massively overwhelming Anonas ukay ukay, I received a call that went a little something like:

Boss: Hi. Is your passport valid?
Me: Yes, it is. Why?
Boss: I'm sending you to Hong Kong next week for an event.

...Ah. Well, it isn't war-torn Afghanistan, which would have added more journalistic street cred and legitimacy to any writer, but this was admittedly a little more my style. Urban, cosmopolitan, and without the hazards of bullets and shrapnel whizzing past you and your camera crew of one. This also involves shopping.

So one month into my job and for the very fist time in my life, I got on a plane alone, checked into my own hotel room, looked at pretty, shiny things - which is always a plus for me - and bought some fabulously cheap fillers for my already suffering wardrobe. I could have done much more wandering had I stayed longer than one night.

I love my job. I may not be very good at it, but I love my job.

This is my absolute favorite of the (few) pictures I managed to take between dodging crowds and gleefully, maniacally, mirthfully laughing at cheap, adorable accessories:



There was, surprisingly, no major food-tripping, although I do consider it a minor victory that I ate nothing but pork the entire time. My Daddy would be proud.

Oooh. Shiny.

I've said it before, but I love makeup. Makeup makes me happy.

The shimmer of powders, the sheen of creams, even the pure translucence of a simple moisturizer all bring a smile to my face. I love seeing pans, sticks, tubes, mounds of color in such varying depths and intensities that the rainbow pales in comparison.

In terms of providing comfort, chocolate is a distant second to the rapture that takes place once the waxy smell of a richly pigmented lipstick wafts into my brain.

It's one of the reasons I wouldn't hesitate to call myself shallow, really, but there you go.

If there's one benefit from such single-minded devotion, it's that people always know what to get you for your birthday. No one ever hesitates in helping to append my ever-increasing collection.

This birthday was, fortunately, no different. Deception and the sadistic desire to see me turn into a mess filled with both guilt for cosmetic greed and a gnawing desire to get my paws on more pigment aside, my mother is pretty much awesome for getting me this:


Benefit's Stay Put Set and Beauty Bestsellers

Commence gushing over the gorgeousness that is the packaging. Teeny tiny Benefit bestsellers? For $10? Brilliant, and absolutely adorable.

I'm currently loving the Erase Paste, which comes in the shade Medium. The Stay Don't Stray Primer is also commendable and, from the looks of things, may help any eyeshadow survive the Apocalypse. The little vial of Posietint has also proven itself to be the most gorgeous shade of pink for both cheeks and lips, and surprisingly, despite my initial misgivings, That Gal primer is slowly worming its pretty, scented self into my morning routine.

I may provide swatches soon, just for kicks.

High Beam is High Beam in that it makes you look ethereal and pretty. However, I have yet to try Some Kind-A Gorgeous, and I'm a bit "Meh," with the Creaseless Cream Shadow/Liner (in R.S.V.P.). The latter is way too light to ever be considered as a liner, and the formulation's a bit dry. Very pretty color though.

Speaking of pretty colors, the powers that be have decided to temper my bliss with an absolute tragedy:



This color was beautiful. It's Mary Kay's Suede, which I discovered was discontinued, recently replaced by Amber Suede, which is a totally different thing, people. I know Bobbi Brown says that if a color you love is discontinued it means you're living in the past and you have to deal, woman, but on this point, I'll have to disagree with the queen of natural makeup. Suede was a plummy, browned red that worked with everything and didn't even have to be worn with natural makeup. You could slap black on your eyes and it still worked. Yes, I've tried.

I think I may have to do some lipstick surgery, and I'm already out of sample jars.

And while we're talking about makeup and all things ephemeral, I'm throwing this question out to the universe: Why is MAC's Face and Body foundation, a water-based bit of genius that seems made for the humid tropics, unavailable in the Philippines?



Think about it, MAC. Think about it.

And They Lived Happily Ever After

Fairy tales don't need to involve castles, dragons or knights on white horses.

Apparently, a good record player will do.

Whoopsies.

Remember how I said I'd try to post "once a week"? [See: first blog post.]

Yeah, I lied.

But if it's worth anything, I have been doing some non-blog writing, since - irony of ironies - I am now employed, a productive member of society with a Social Security number, a bank account, and all the trappings of the yuppie archetype I was so ready to hate all of two weeks ago.

Best thing I can do, I suppose, is to just keep calm and, well, carry on. I'll pretend this little blip never happened.

In other news, it's Sunday night, and I have two stories due tomorrow. It's not that I don't like writing it's just that, seriously, at this moment, I would much rather be where he is:

Mommie Dearest

I really don't know if I should be ashamed that, three entries in, my only subscriber is my mother. She has also been threatening to forward my blog to my grandmother and aunt. So much for building a strong foundation before letting loose on the interwebs.

Granted, my mom subscribes to absolutely nothing, so I'll take it as a compliment.

Oh, and for the record, the only thing she and Joan Crawford have in common is a slight propensity for keeping things clean.

Thanks, mom.

The Elements of Style

If someone sat me down several months ago and told me just how hard it would be to get a job, I would probably have done one of two things: panicked, and signed up for the first post-graduate course that would take me, or laughed right in their face.

After all, with youth comes acne, sartorial misadventures, misguided, lost loves, a complete belief in personal infallibility, and a sense of idealism that would put Andy Dufresne to shame.

It is this very last quality that has left me completely unaware of the difficulties involved in finding a job that (a) I would like, and (b) would pay if not well, then decently. This isn't really saying much though. I am a writer, and we aren't really known for our 401Ks or whatever it is that the corporate kids talk about every weekend at the country club. Half our pay lies in the hackneyed, old cliche, "Do something you love and you'll never work a day in your life," I guess.

Lately, the hunt for a company that would take me from the realms of the unemployed led me to the offices of several networks and publishing houses. For the uninitiated, movies, television shows, and magazines are just about the pinnacle of glamour but, the reality is, where the images of style and luxury are created are decidedly the opposite. Where one expects to see a shiny indoor composition of steel and Lucite and leather, one finds instead a dense maze of cubicles, depressingly gray chairs on wheels, and mountains of cardboard boxes filled with hundreds of back-issues. All this opulence is, of course, lit by that most depressing and unflattering form of lighting, the white fluorescent bulb.

This is where this season’s It bag or must-have lipstick are chosen. This is where names like Galliano, McQueen, Lagerfeld, and Slimane are thrown around like they were friends about to drop by for coffee. This is where the decision between a skinny belt or a wide one is a matter of life and death. This is where blue is never really blue, but rather, cobalt, azure, turquoise or aquamarine. This is where the hours are long and unpredictable, where the pay is often bad, and where, when all the couture has been put away and the makeup washed off, nothing will ever be taken seriously if you haven’t squeezed it from the deepest recesses of your soul.

This is also where - despite the seemingly solitary purpose of superficiality and glorification of the ephemeral - I can and am allowed to make a difference, no matter how small. This is, despite knowing the sacrifice that the world of the perfectly arranged demands, what I want my future to be.

And to think I could have taken up business in school.

Let's Start at the Very Beginning

I have a highly workable theory surrounding how my brain works: I now firmly believe that the number of working neurons I can spare is indirectly proportional to how comfortable, well-rested, and stress-free I am. Just how comfortable am I? Let's just say I've been spending so much time indoors that I'm possibly two shades lighter than I was in my last semester of college, and that starting a moderate workout regimen may not be such a bad idea.

It isn't that I think I'm getting dumber, although the fact that lately I've been forced - by certain uncontrollable events and/or people in my life - to watch more local television than I've seen since the onset of cable may, in retrospect, make that previous statement incorrect. Telenovelas almost 24/7 just, you know, aren't really my thing.

So here I am, a full 124 days after my graduation, attempting to jumpstart my brain with a blog, one bound to be lost in the veritable ocean, the cesspool, that is the internet. It's about time I start producing something instead of jumping from the mental meanderings of one person to another. I want to meander too.

The goal, therefore, is to write once a week, at the very least, about things I love, things I hate, things I feel strongly about. Pretty things, or ugly things. Awesome, wonderful things, or maybe even things that may at first seem banal. The goal, simply put, is to write.

And I'll try to make sense, I promise.