Esquire 02/2016 Maine Mendoza

a r e w e h av i n g f u n y e t ?

MAN AT HIS BEST FEBUARY 2016

PHILIPPINES

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Maine is on top

Me n d o z a a ro l l. C a n she t h is aCt ?

The issue in which we prove ThaT fun is wasTed on The young Angel Aquino is a woman of a certain age (and that age is 42) p.74

What Rock Stars Do when they don’t die p.66

Midlife Sentences from three writers p.49

T H E P E R F E C T PA I R : S E E W H O W E A R S T H E PA N T S I N T H I S P R E V I E W X E S Q U I R E C O L L A B O R AT I O N

T H E P E R F ECT PA I R Esquire and Preview partner on yet another style collab—this time taking sartorial coupling to romantic lengths with real-life model couple, John James Uy and Jessica Yang. Have a peek at his-and-hers style featuring Uniqlo’s assortment of stylish pants—perfect pairs, indeed.

C o n t e n ts f e b rua ry 20 1 6

14 ESQ&A Margarita ForÊs, Asia’s Best Female Chef 2016, talks about nostalgic food, Italian mothers, and women in the kitchen.

18 MahB: Drinking The most pleasant way to end the day is with the tranquility of scotch and a cigar.

20 MaHB: Tech Fitness trackers are all the rage, but do you need it?

24 MaHB: Cars Meet the Jaguar XE, the baddest cat on the road.

66 The Case For Fading Away When the limelight dims: Tirso Ripoll, Manuel Legarda, Kevin Roy, Jett Pangan, and Zach Lucero find peace in older age.

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22 MaHB: Art The return of artists Alfredo and Isabel Aquilizan has the local art world abuzz with anticipation.

26 MaHB: Books This month, fall in love with four female heroines (who may be unlucky in love).

27 Style Store openings and expansions accommodate the growing tastes of men.

49 Notes & Essays Francis Joseph A. Cruz on film, Clinton Palanca on friendships, and Kristine Fonacier on forty.

74 Woman We Love Angel Aquino talks about growing up ugly, aging fearlessly, and her favorite four-letter word.

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60 How Not To Die Or your money back. (Kidding.)

80 In Dub We Trust Maine, her men, and the phenomenon that is AlDub defy all reasonable explanations.

88 Snow A fictional story about things that are cold and lonely, by Sarge Lacuesta.

96 What I’ve Learned With Gregorio Honasan

108 This Way Out Esquire October 1972

98 Lighten Up Turn your wardrobe on its head with of-the-moment pieces guaranteed to punch up a lackluster look.

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A LET T ER FROM T HE EDI TOR

Let’s save the introductions for next time.

Seems only proper, since I’ve arrived in the middle of everything.

The middle gets such a bad rap, because it’s so easy to be entranced by the extremes on either end—like revolution, the beginning and the end are both limned in poetry, while the middle is conducted in the prose of governance. But if there’s anything that all of us should know from these past few decades, it’s that we can’t live on either poetry or revolution alone. It’s what we do in the middle parts that can really show us what we’re made of.

Esquire is a magazine that is, in many ways, made for the man in the middle—not on the sidelines, but in the middle of things, right where the action is. The Esquire Man, we keep getting reminded, is someone who has achieved a certain status in life, and who, having done so, can start enjoying life. (I’m avoiding using the term “arrived,” because it sounds so definitive, because it’s in the past tense. But perhaps it’s the right word to use, because an arrival is where all the fun begins— who leaves right after they get there?).

Lest people forget, too, Esquire is itself a magazine that’s arrived, having been launched in the Philippines in 2011 and in the US since 1933. If that doesn’t blow your mind, we’re using italics to help you understand the sheer gravity of that fact. And—here’s more—Esquire is older than rubber tires, M&Ms, canned beer, Colt revolvers, and instant coffee.

The Philippine edition is much younger, though at five years, it’s come into its own quite well, in a way that’s only possible when you’ve seen some shit. Pardon my French, but I mean that as a compliment: Esquire Philippines has taken some pretty big chances

XXX 8 ESQ E SUQI RUEI R• E F •E b FR Eb UR aU Ra y R2y0 2 16 016

over the years, and weathered its fair share of criticism (some good, some bad; some very bad), and that kind of thing makes you grow up, and it gives you character. It’s what has made the magazine you hold in your hands now a substantive publication that has truly made a mark in the industry.

It’s undeserved luck on my part to have come into the magazine after it’s come so far, and for that we have to pause and give credit where credit is due: to the editorial team that has come and gone, headed of course by the estimable Erwin Romulo, and to his stellar cadre of writers and editors. Not enough has been said, however, about those who came and stayed through the transitions— our masthead is filled with the names of the incredibly talented editors who continue to power Esquire Philippines. I won’t name them here, if only to avoid sounding like every flustered awards-show winner, but they deserve recognition in one way or another.

Part of my job will be to make sure that they get the space to keep on doing great work, and to get them due recognition. We’ll also save that for another time.

This is another problem we have with finding ourselves in medias res. We’re in the middle of it all, but both language and human nature constantly points us to the end. It’s as if, having been done with the beginning, we only have the end to look forward to now. But that’s just nuts. The middle is where it all happens.

The middle is where the fun really begins. The middle is exactly where we want to be.

— kRISTINE FoNACIER

PHOTOGRaPH fruHlein econar

In Medias Res

STYLEAGENDA

DATE NIGHT

FANCY A STAY-AT-HOME DATE? PLAN IT WELL AND SPRUCE UP YOUR PLACE. IT WON’T LOOK LIKE A LAZY/LAST-MINUTE IDEA WHEN YOU AND YOUR KITCHEN ARE ALL DECKED OUT. MAKE HER A MEAL, FIX HER A DRINK, AND TAKE YOUR SWEET TIME.

OPEN DOORS FOR HER Ladies love it when you hold the doors open for them. Especially when they open up to reveal what’s cooking.

Sure, chivalry and what’s inside counts, but how you look matters too.

Sub-Zero Integrated Refrigeration took a page out of the Esquire style guide. They designed the doors to disappear into the room’s décors. Plus, they’re not just sleek; they’re smart too. All models are equipped with superior preservation technology and a patented Air Purification System based on NASA technology.

WEAR IT ON YOUR SLEEVE

HAVE A GROOVY TIME Best not to be late to your own date. You know how time flies when you’re having fun.

Bringing back the good times isn’t as easy as reviving a ‘70s retro watch like the Hamilton Pan Europ. Originally released in 1971, it was one of the first auto chrono watches that decorated men’s wrists. It comes with both leather and nato straps to dress you up for any mood or occasion.

This is not for the feint of heart.

When you do muster up the confidence to say it, go for it. Maybe having the Victorinox Swiss Army Airboss Mach 9 will help those three magical words takeoff and land a little smoother than you imagined.

CUP IT, JOE When something this handsome greets her in the morning, it’ll make you want to keep up. The Wolf Coffee System blends substance and style as good as it prepares your cup of joe. It meets the standards of even the most demanding home barista, yet it’s incredibly easy to use and maintain.

At one touch of a button, it produces professional-quality brewed coffee, espresso, cappuccino, latte, and macchiato, and perfectly steams and foams milk. Plus, it comes in different looks and finishes to match your designer kitchen.

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T HI S MON T H’S

Contributors

Francisco Guerrero shoots for numerous international clients in travel and lifestyle, such as Condé Nast Traveller, and Travel+Leisure.

Having lived in Spain for a number of years, he re-explores his country through his own travel documentary show, What I See, under CNN Philippines Lifestyle.

Geric Cruz discovered photography by accident when his uncle gave him a Polaroid camera in 2006. His hard-hitting personal work has won him awards in multiple ASEAN competitions. Geric’s unique voice in photography has placed his pictures in several exhibitions in the Philippines as well as art shows in Australia, Denmark, Thailand, Korea, China, and India.

Sonny Thakur is a travel photographer and the Photo Editor of GRID Magazine. “Family Ties,” his on-going project documenting the lives of his family in Manila and Ahmedabad, was featured at the 2nd Singapore International Photography Festival in 2010, at the New Delhi Photo Festival in 2011, and most recently at the World Events Young Artist Festival. Sonny shot this month’s story on rock stars in their midlife.

Clinton Palanca has won awards for his fiction and in 1998, came out with Landscapes, a book compiling his short stories and earlier works for children. Today, he ventures into food writing with his regular column on Inquirer Lifestyle, and with restaurant reviews for other publications. For this issue, Clinton wrote about friendship for Notes and Essays.

Lori Baltazar is a food writer, cancer conqueror and one of the country’s top food bloggers. Her website Dessert Comes First also spawned a book of the same title. In this issue, she interviews Asia’s Best Female Chef for 2016, Margarita Forés for ESQ&A.

PJ Caña is a writer at Forbes Philippines.

A big fan of the Before film series, he once retraced the steps of the characters in Paris and Vienna, and wrote about it for Rappler.

PJ is a live music geek and writes for other numerous publications about the biggest concerts in Manila and abroad.

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E D ITO R- IN - C H IE F

Managing Editor

kristine fonacier

Features Editor

Patricia Barcelon Audrey N. Carpio

Associate Features Editor Kara Ortiga

ART Contributing Art Directors Edric Dela Rosa Frantz Arno Salvador

FASHION Fashion Features Editor Clifford Olanday

EDITORS AT LARGE Features Sarge Lacuesta

HEARST MAGAZINES INTERNATIONAL President/CEO Duncan Edwards

Senior Vice President, CFO and General Manager

WRITERS AT LARGE

Food & Drinks

Erwan Heussaff

Books

Sasha Martinez

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Colombia

Gautam Ranji

Senior Vice President/ International Publishing Director Jeannette Chang

Senior Vice President/ Editorial Director Kim St. Clair Bodden

Peter Yates

Executive Editor

Alyana Cabral

Writers

Lori Baltazar, Nayna Katigbak, Jason K. Ang, Devi De Veyra, Miguel Escobar, Nicole Limos, Johanna Poblete, PJ Caña, Alyana Cabral, Francis Joseph A. Cruz, Clinton Palanca

Photographers

Francisco J. Escobar S.

Czech Republic Jiri Roth

Greece

Kostas N. Tsitsas

Hong Kong Indonesia

Dwi Sutarjantono

Kazakhstan

Ildar Khaibullin

Tony Gervino

Korea

Fashion and Entertainment Director

Latin America

Heesik Min

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ON OUR COVER: Maine Mendoza, Jose Manalo, Wally Bayona and Paolo Ballesteros photographed exclusively for Esquire by Francisco Guerrero. Special thanks to Cinerent for the set.

FEBRUARy 2016 • ESQUIRE

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P R ES ID EN T AN D GE N E R AL M A N AG E R

LISA Y. GOKONGWEICHENG

PUBLISHING

EVENTS

Publisher

Marketing Director Ramon Manzano III

Calugtong, Edward Caringal, Arnaldo Lopez, Hazel Mardo, Jennifer Tolentino

VP for Operations

assistant Marketing Manager

Jr. Sales Representatives - GMa

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Deputy Group Publisher Ichi Apostol-Acosta

Team Publisher

Ina Arabia-Garcia

associate Publisher Judd Reyes

Editorial Director

Jo-Ann Maglipon, Myrza Sison

admin. Services Manager Whilma M. Lopez

Sr. administrative asst.

Michiel Lumabi, Marlyn Miguel

administrative asst.

Lalaine Bernardo ADVERTISING

Group advertising

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advertising Director-Key accounts Group

Rica Gae Lozada

Project Officer

Eduardo Almeda, Patricia Cordero, Joey Negrete

Sr. Marketing associate

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Jr. Marketing associate

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Trade Marketing assistant

Logistics Manager

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Project Coordinator

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CREATIVE SERVICES

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Digital art Director Rey Etable

associate art Director

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Printed in the Philippines.

Man at His Best FEBRUARY 2016

“Make the best of every moment. We’re not evolving. We’re not going anywhere.”

— dAvid BowiE, “whAt i’vE lEARnEd” EsqUiRE, MARch 2004

MaHB

ESQ&A

Margarita Forés It may havE comE aS a Shock to hER, bUt bEIng namEd aSIa’S bESt fEmalE chEf 2016 waS REally thE InEvItablE oUtcomE of a pRolIfIc caREER, not jUSt aS a REStaURatEUR, bUt aS an advocatE foR local cUISInE and homEgRown IngREdIEntS. Lori BaLtazar talkS to maRgaRIta foRéS aboUt noStalgIc food, ItalIan mothERS, and womEn In thE kItchEn. photographs by sonny thakur

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ESQUIRE: How are you feeling a week after the announcement?

MARGARITA FORÉS: I’m still totally flustered. My sister called my attention because she saw my two posts on Instagram on the second and the third days, and they were both pictures of me still in shock.

She said, “Can you stop with this disbelief thing?” But I’m still feeling that way. Maybe because it really came as such a surprise.

For Antonio’s to get into the list last year was really a door opener for us in the industry. The reason why we haven’t gotten into the list any earlier than that is also because people didn’t come to Manila very much. Breakthroughs in tourism really only happened in the last two or three years, so it’s really been kind of like a steady climb to get to Philippine cuisine.

ESQ: Since you mentioned it, why do you think that now is the time that [more] people—maybe the world—are receptive to Filipino cuisine?

MF: I think that largely it’s because all of us Filipinos have decided to just be united in this whole effort to bring the country forward.

For the longest time, our sense of identity was always muddled and we all felt very differently.

But I think that consciously we all just decided to become one, and to feel strongly about ourselves, about how great our country is, and about how wonderful we are as a people.

That’s why there’s been a turnaround. It has affected pretty much all aspects.

ESQ: Part of the official description of the Asia’s Best Female Chef award states, “This award celebrates and rewards successful women who have risen to the top of the gastronomic world. The winner’s cooking must impress the world’s toughest critics and venerated chefs.” That’s a very lofty description but I want to ask you, Margarita: Why do you think you won?

MF: Apart from just having done quite a number of successful food concepts and quite a bit of catering for 30 years, I think it’s really partly also the advocacies that I’ve been working on in the last decade.

It also started with my work helping the Filipino farmer get his products noticed, get our ingredients more globally known.

And aside from that, I think it’s also helping the awareness even just here in our own country with pushing for organic produce and sustainability. It’s largely that as well, that got a lot of attention. Maybe my work also with pushing Filipino cuisine forward abroad, at global fairs and events. It’s pretty much like going up the ladder with that

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WHAT TO WEAR NOW 40 PAGES OF NECESSARY STYLE

MAN AT HIS BEST DECEMBER 2015 - JANUARY 2016

PHILIPPINES

PHILIPPINES PHILIPPINE PHILIPPINES PH PHILIPPIN HILIPPINE ILIP IILI LIIPPIN LIPPINE LIP LIPPINES LIPPIN L IPPIN IPPINES PP PPINES P PINES PIIN P PIN IN NE ES

MAN AT HIS BEST ST S T OCTOBER OCTO TOBER 2015

MAN AT HIS BEST SEPTEMBER 2015

The Case Against China

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Justice Antonio Carpio and Lourd de Veyra debate the Scarborough Shoal

His Excellency Vice President Jejomar Binay welcomes you to our Meaning of Life issue

NATIVE TONGUES Excerpts, Essays, Et Cetera by Ricky Lee, Lualhati Bautista, Norman Wilwayco, Jerome Gomez, and Pete Lacaba

★

SAY YOU WANT A REVOLUTION

An Interview with

FEATURING PIOLO PASCUAL AND STORIES FROM THE DAYS OF DISQUIET

RAISE YOUR GLASS, ESQUIRE TURNS FOUR!

FRANCIS TOLENTINO ON EDSA

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P200

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JASMINE CURTIS-SMITH

DECLARATION OF WAR Pete Lacaba’s Prometheus Unbound

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and of course,

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Your Guide to Where to Drink Now

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SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY A Martial Law Love Story

DECADE UNDER THE INFLUENCE Disco, Drugs, and the Dictatorship

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November 2015

December 2015 January 2016

October 2015

After Almost 50 Years, It’s Time to Bring The Beatles Back

MAN AT HIS BEST August 2015

September 2015

20 Years of Summit Media

MAN AT HIS BEST June 2015

MAN AT HIS BEST July 2015

MAN AT HIS BEST May 2015

FERNANDO POE JR.

August 2015

July 2015

MAN AT HIS BEST April 2015

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Happy Father’s Day! On the cover: Fernando Poe Jr

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SINK YOUR TEETH INTO OUR FOOD AND DRINK ISSUE.

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Bite Me. COLEEN GARCIA SUCCUMBS TO HER GUILTY PLEASURES. JP ANGLO FEASTS ON LOBSTERS IN ISABELA. JEROME GOMEZ DIVES FOR UNI IN BACOLOD. KARA ORTIGA HUNTS FOR DOG MEAT IN BAGUIO. JOSÉ ANDRÉS REVEALS THE FUTURE OF FOOD. LUIS KATIGBAK CARANDANG WHO GUEST EDITS THIS ISSUE, GETS DRUNK ON TEQUILA. BON APPETIT! SAYS GOODBYE TO FAST FOOD. AND RICKY CARANDANG,

06

Tributes by Erwin Castillo and Lourd De Veyra featuring rarely seen photographs spanning five decades on screen

05

We named Karen Davila the Sexiest Woman Alive.

LONG LIVE THE KING

This was her reaction.

June 2015

May 2015

MAN AT HIS BEST ST <;8HK7HO (&'+

MAN AT HIS BEST CWhY^ (&'+

MAN AT HIS BEST December 2014 - January 2015

GENTLEMEN, THIS IS

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THE N TRANSFIGURATIO OF JOHN LLOYD CRUZ

OTO G R A P H A N D A RT BY G E LOY C O N C E P C I O N

THE LOVE COMMANDOS OF INDIA’S UNDERGROUND page 92

THE BEST NEW RESTAURANTS page 67

HOW TO BE A MAN

'87(57( “IF I WERE PRESIDENT...”

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April 2015

March 2015

MAN AT HIS BEST OCTOBER 2014

February 2015

PHILIPPINES 4 4 CLUSIVE Q U I R E E X 4 4 A N E S SSUE: IN THIS I ENCLOSED ONGS ST NEW S THEIR FIR DECADE IN OVER A

The future, as they say, isn’t what it used to be.

But maybe that’s a good thing.

Anything’s better than the prospect of things staying the same.

Welcome to our special Best and Brightest issue, edited by David Guerrero.

We invited ten of the country’s leading

minds to map out some possibilities for the QH[W oYH \HDUV We also received reports from the year 2019 on the future of Advertising, Fashion, Tech, Sports, and of course, Sex. We sat down with Senator Grace Poe, who might just be headed for a bigger role in all our lives.

We’ve become used to “the way things are.” But we shouldn’t be.

7KH QH[W oYH \HDUV DUH FUXFLDO :H NQRZ real change has to happen.

Beyond rumors and hype, it’s up to us to decide what needs to be done. ,W V WLPH WR WKLQN DERXW WKH IXWXUH

December 2014 January 2015

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THE CURSE OF THE JUAN LUNA PAINTING page 84

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THE STORY OF A FOOT FETISH page 58

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THE DESIRE ISSUE

MaHB

ESQ&A

advocacy. I’m just humbled [by] having had the opportunity to wave the flag at those events, and I think that that’s really what helped. I guess the judges take notice. The judges are from all over Asia. I don’t think that the population of Filipino judges is very large in the group, so it’s really quite overwhelming.

ESQ: Has winning the award proven something to you? Like, “Okay, Margarita, time to slow down,” or “Yes! Mission accomplished!”

MF: I guess, mission accomplished. It’s starting out without having had any formal training. That says a lot about how far my team and I have reached and that you can actually take a different path to success. It doesn’t have to be the normal route. I’ve always said that I’m not a planner. Things kind of just fall into place all because I just follow my passion. From the days that I was just cooking with one or two assistants, carrying pots for myself and starting to cook in people’s homes, starting out that way, it just says that you can do things in a very untraditional way and get to the top of any industry.

ESQ: You are a female and the first Filipino to win this award, and just winning the award is a hugely empowering statement that you make. Is it easier now to be a female in the kitchen or are there challenges still?

MF: Thirty years after I started, I think that the playing field for women in the industry now is [even]. They’re equally as successful as the men. And judging from how the industry is in the Philippines alone, there are more female culinary students now than there are male. That’s been a fact in the last two years. And for women to choose that industry, it’s because the doors have opened for them. It’s really the females that allows us to be successful in this industry. After all, the industry is about feeding, and this is what we’re made of. We’re nurturing and that’s what makes us different from men.

ESQ: Why is it that you felt this attraction to Italian cuisine as opposed to New York, where you spent a lot of your formative years, or even Hong Kong? Why not Chinese cuisine or New York cuisine?

MF: It’s really funny, but the time for me that was most memorable growing up in New York was the early ’80s. It was just maybe providential that it was the Italianization of New York. There was a mushrooming of very nice modern Italian restaurants that were untraditional. They were more Milanese in style, no longer the red and white plaid tablecloths and the Chianti bottles and the ceiling concepts. And

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I think those were the ones that really made an impression on me. There were little pizzerias that were very modern. It was the first time I had a cream-based pasta with truffle and salmon and it was a very fresh spinach pasta.

It was a very memorable experience trying it for the first time. This was a restaurant that my grandfather would take us to almost every Sunday. It was in midtown and it was that kind of experience that made me want to go and learn more about Italian cooking, but from the parts that were not so known.

And I was also having the best time of my life in New York. My mother had a really wonderful circle of friends that made an impression on me. It was that whole sort of Studio 54 vibe in the ’80s. It made me feel like this kind of lifestyle was something that I wanted to bring back home and share with Manila. I guess going to the root, going to Italy and really doing an immersion was the best way to do that. I was in Italy those four months—it was a very short time but I was by myself so it allowed me to be a sponge. I had no Filipino friends at that time so I was also forced to learn the language.

ESQ: What made you come back? You could’ve stayed in New York.

MF: It was largely that feeling that I had where I wanted to bring what I enjoyed most from my Italian experience and bring it to the Filipino market. And I remember when I started Cibo in 1997, putting the concept together, I was very clear: I wanted it to be in a mall setting. I wanted it to offer value for money and I wanted the food to be really authentic—the way they do it in Italy.

At the same time, I also wanted it to be able to offer a concept that was homegrown, created by a Filipino. Because at that time, in 1997, the TGIFriday’ses and the Hard Rock Cafés were making a killing, and people were paying a premium for these businesses that were making money in the Philippines but basically sending out their franchise fees abroad. So I wanted to be able to give them a run for their money at that time. Eighteen years down the road, I feel that that’s mission accomplished.

ESQ: They say that the best restaurants are the ones that not only offer good food, but also offer the diner new perspectives and an education in that regard. In [all your] years as a restaurateur, how has the Filipino diner changed, and is there anything else you wish they could be?

MF: I’m glad that I was a purist when I started, when I was introducing something new to the Filipino diner. But I think that, because the Filipino diner is so welltraveled now, the level of sophistication

and expectation of the Filipino diner is absolutely world-class. So it’s a great time to be in the industry and it has also forced me to re-engineer my whole way of thinking.

I remember when I started with Cibo, the menu had a notation in the bottom that said, “No substitutions please,” for the ingredients that were put together in every [dish]. Nowadays, all the more the diner is so educated. Do whatever you want! I’ve had to rebrief the staff in Cibo. It’s been 30 years from when I started working, and then 18 years with my first restaurant. And the way the industry has boomed in the last decade…

I’m proud that I’m part of the industry and that I was part of it from 30 years ago.

And if you think about it, the most celebrated chefs from 30 years ago are mostly female. The famous chefs are [people like] Tita Glenda Barretto, or food personalities that influenced our thinking then—people like Tita Nora Daza, and Doreen [Fernandez] with her writing. Maybe if Filipino cuisine had a gender, she would be female. It’s the nanay’s and the lola’s cooking that encapsulates what Filipino cuisine is all about. It’s home cooking, much in the same way that Italian cooking is. I remember when I started, the first opportunities I had to cook in Malacañang, at that time the side vegetables were carrots, green beans, and frozen peas. Because those were the vegetables that appeared in every plate that came out of a hotel restaurant. So Filipino restaurants took the cue. You would never find heirloom rice for that matter, or sigarilyas, or bulaklak ng kalabasa, or our native talong…

ESQ: I think we might even accuse you of being bakya back then if you used those things.

MF: Exactly. And it dawned on me that maybe that appreciation came after my Italian experience. Because then, you have this newfound awareness that, “Hey, our vegetables are exotic for a foreign palate.”

ESQ: And even to some Filipinos as well.

MF: Exactly. As a matter of fact, I think that that’s what’s also driving the new discoveries in the ingredients side for all of us Filipino chefs. You know, the alugbati flowers, the pansit-pansitan, the wood sorrel that Noma used to use a lot, we realize it grows like weeds in our garden! I think that is also partly what has caused this newfound attention that Filipino cuisine and Philippine produce is getting.

ESQ: Margarita, how has your being a mighty two-time cancer conqueror reflected on your food, particularly at Grace Park?

MF: It’s really the newfound respect for

clean ingredients, finding the purveyors and the farmers who have chosen to take a path that’s a little bit more difficult. I mean, it’s more costly, your product comes out more expensive than others, but I think choosing to promote those ingredients very early on… I started it actually in Cibo 10 years ago, soon after my thyroid cancer episode and it was really the choice to go that path even if it affected the bottom line because I always felt that success and the benefits from the business don’t always have to come in the form of peso signs. The goodwill that Cibo received through the years when we started first doing our squash soup with organic squash from Negros. We would have it brought in by boat and really take a stand and say, “Okay, we’re gonna use the clean squash.” And we are now at 80 percent organic greens, organic herbs, and organic vegetables whenever we can at Cibo. It was hard to defend that with my co-owners and family in the beginning, because they knew

I think that consciously we all just decided to become one, and to feel strongly about ourselves, about how great our country is, and about how wonderful we are as a people.

that the food cost jumped a little bit because of it, but it was worth sticking our necks out and being pioneers with that kind of movement. Because nowadays, everybody’s doing it and it’s great because it also helped the farmer sustain their businesses and at the same time, allowed the prices to come down a bit.

ESQ: Okay, I’m gonna put you on the hot seat for a while by asking, what is your favorite region in Italy?

MF: Oh boy. Oh dear… Although I started my love affair in Tuscany, I think that it’s the work that I do with Emilia-Romagna that is closest to my heart at the moment. Because I guess that they have the monopoly on the best ingredients and the iconic products that Italy is known for are from that region. And Artusi hails from there.

ESQ: Okay, let’s jump the fence. What is your favorite province in the Philippines?

MF: I guess it would have to be my home.

It would have to be Negros... Being able to give homage to our heritage and to really be proud of that part of me, it says a lot. Negros has always been the pioneer for pushing organic produce. Not only do other regions in the Philippines look up to them for what they’ve done in that aspect, but even other Asian countries have taken notice of what Negros has done.

ESQ: How would you describe yourself as an eater? What kind of food do you like to eat?

MF: I’m actually a creature of habit. I really love good Chinese food. Apart from a good bowl of pasta, I’d always have to say that my most favorite dish is still buttered rice and talangka. I appreciate that as much as a perfectly executed pasta. But maybe Chinese cuisine [also], because it’s such an old culture. What I know of it mostly is Cantonese food and Shanghainese food but I guess, just like Italy and just like the Philippines, there are also so many other parts of China that would be nice to discover food-wise. What else? A good burger! I love a good burger patty.

ESQ: Is there anything that you don’t eat? Or don’t like to eat?

MF: Umm, abalone, maybe? A little bit.

I guess I eat pretty much everything but maybe that and sea cucumber.

ESQ: What about what Margarita wants to do next? Not the female chef who just won an accolade. What do you want to do? Do you want to just rest?

MF: Yes! (laughs) That too. Maybe go on an eating trip with my son. We haven’t done my one-on-one trip with him to Italy yet. I had to put that on hold when I got sick. The most wonderful thing was that he just wanted to come home and be with me so that I could get well as quickly as possible. So that’s what I wanna do. That’s really what I want to do this year with him. And one more dream: open a Filipino restaurant abroad.

ESQ: When you cook, what is the creative process for you like?

MF: It’s in my mind. I create the flavors in my head. I imagine the tastes in my head and then I have the team help me execute it.

Because I’m not a technician in the kitchen.

I don’t even measure. That was very difficult when I started Cibo, because in the end it’s a business. When I cook, I’m like that.

It all starts in the head. I always say this, maybe the eurekas, it’s like God whispers them to me. Because the combinations of the ingredients, you try to think, how could you have thought of that without some help from the heavens? When you imagine the flavors together, it can blow your mind.

february 2016 • eSQuIre

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MaHB

Drinking

The Pleasurable Quaff and Draw fInE bRown SpIRItS, fRagRant cIgaRS, and chEERy nIbblES. tImE SlowS down at 1824.

by NayNa katigbak photographs by tammy david

A good lick of fire and ice down one’s throat. The ineffable tranquility of a good smoke. Once the sun dips low enough, it’s a fine time to hunker down for a treat.

Barely two months old, Discovery Primea’s cigar and whisky bar, 1824 (named after the year the first license for single malt distilleries was purchased), offers itself as a lush, discreet haven to down the water of life, and a choice cigar or two.

There is nothing stodgy about the place; they’ve done away with the Old Boy’s Club atmosphere. You’ll find a lot less leather, but the exclusive feel remains—cool interiors are softly lit, warmed with wood details, and there are great seats at the bar and plush little coves to lose hours in. Relaxed elegance comes to mind, untouched by current trends and outside noise. It feels like a place where decisions are mulled over and made.

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1824 IS a fIne place for a wee dram or two. pIck your drInk and cIgar and SIt back for a SpecIal coze.

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a plump fIneS de claIre oySter wIth Shaved, frozen vInaIgrette reStS on a bed of Ice.

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not Sure where to Start? flIghtS are a great way to enjoy 1824’S wIde whISky SelectIon. tour the beSt of the ISleS, one pour at a tIme.

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a cuStom-made humIdor houSeS a wIde SelectIon of cuban and phIlIppIne hand-rolled cIgarS.

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there is nothing stodgy about the place; they’ve done away with the old boy’s club atmosphere.

1824 offers well over a hundred varieties of single malts and whiskies—Speyside, Islay, Lowland, and Highland, along with an array of fine wines and liquors. Whisky flights are on the menu, should you be in an explorative mood. A mix of Cuban and local cigars housed in a custom humidor are offered tableside, cut and lit to your specifications—whether you prefer an efficient butane torch for a quick light, or one of their specially made cedar spills. Salted nuts and mixed chocolate nibs are served with your order, but try their small bites: chilled, plump Fines de Claire oysters in a tangy vinaigrette; or a rich, toasty grilled black truffle sandwich with dressed greens on the side. For something sweet, try the warm chocolate truffles—dusted with vanilla sugar, crunchy on the outside and with oozing dark chocolate on the inside. It hits a bliss point, excellent with your whisky.

1824 invites you to sip, smoke, and savor, whether you’ve come for contemplation or spirited conversation; the reasonable prices are a good reason to keep coming back. The celebrated pairing of cigars and a good dram of scotch work very well in making time slow down when you need it to, which is not such a bad idea at the end of the day.

1824 IS open from 4 p.m. to mIdnIght, mondayS to SaturdayS. dIScoveryprImea.com

february 2016 • eSQuIre

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MaHB

tech

BOOTY CAMP Do wE REally nEED fItnESS tRackERS?

by K ara Ortiga illustratiOn by jaO san pedrO

On Christmas day, after having two bowls of beef bone marrow soup, I finally unboxed some fitness trackers from their mint packaging and fiddled with them in confusion. The overwhelming thought bubble in my head being, how the hell does this work?

I’ve never used a fitness tracker before.

I’ve never even been successful enough to integrate a legit fitness regime into my life.

But my god, believe me, I have tried. I’m a serial polygamist when it gets to sticking to one (exercise): going from dormant, to Bikram yoga, to Crossfit, to boxing, and then back to square one. But once in a while, I’ll be in a good place. I’ll adopt a fitness routine with my game face on. And this was exactly my mood on Christmas morning.

I tested three brands: Jawbone UP 24 [1], Garmin Vivosmart [2], and the Misfit Shine [3].

First thing I noticed was how nice they looked.

Sleek and trendy. The Jawbone UP is the most masculine, just a thick rubber bracelet that wraps around your wrist. The Garmin Vivosmart looks

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more like a digital watch with an LED screen protruding on the top, lighting up when you prompt it to give you an update. I like most the Misfit Shine, a circular tracking device that lets you choose how you want to wear it, whether you pop it on a rubber band as a bracelet, or a necklace, or a keychain.

In choosing your fitness tracker, you decide based on two things: how it looks as an accessory, and how the application interface looks on your phone. The way the data is designed and disseminated varies.

Some apps are easier to digest (I like Misfit’s simple graphs and easy-to-use interface), while others have too much going on.

On that note, I find it odd that these modern-day trackers won’t really let you track anything without a smart phone. While the bracelets do their job in taking note of your movements, you can’t actually see any of these details until you’ve downloaded the app, connect via Bluetooth, and sync the data with your phone. Seems like a lot of

steps to get your number of steps. Something which, I have found quite by accident, your regular iPhone can do too.

But one thing the fitness trackers do is get you hooked on numbers. Because this wearable tech can now quantify how much activity (or inactivity) you’ve been doing, you really have no excuse. A quick look at the app before you sleep gives you an idea: “Wow. I only clocked in a pathetic 432 steps today, compared to yesterday’s 1,060 steps.”

Pretty shitty. Point is, if you’ve got no one else to rah-rah you to booty camp, your fitness tracker is bound to do that for you. It’s like the more mobile, quieter, non-judgmental, fitter version of yourself. If you need a friendly reminder to get rid of the beer belly, get a fitness tracker. If you need someone to encourage you not be such a slob, get a fitness tracker.

If you’ve been on a diet since age 13, get a fitness tracker. Almost everyone is wearing one, it looks decent too. Otherwise, if you’ve actually grown accustomed to a decent fitness routine, you have a good sense of discipline, and you are able to juggle a balanced diet, I really don’t see the need for one. Your iPhone can do the same. It’s just a fancy bracelet and a subtle way of saying: “Hey people! I’m making an effort to be sexy!” Which I guess isn’t such a bad thing either.

MaHB

ART

Rules of Engagement aftER bEIng away foR yEaRS, aRtIStS alfREdo and ISabEl aQUIlIzan aRE REady to Show US thEIR nEw woRk—and wE’RE ExcItEd. by devi de veyra photographs by jl javier

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I m ag e S A RT FA I R p h I l I p p I n e s

Artists Alfredo and Isabel Aquilizan (a husband-and-wife tandem known in the art sphere as The Aquilizans) have been away for 10 years, and their participation in Art Fair Philippines 2016 is highly anticipated. The couple has kept busy with exhibitions all over the world, and both look forward to this major outing—their first in four years.

“Engagement is a key element in our work,” Alfredo Aquilizan says, and his statement resonates poignantly in their practice. For an installation titled Dream Blanket Project, blankets were gathered and reassembled in neatly folded stacks, accompanied by registrations of their former owners’ dreams. Each piece brought with it individual stories as rich and colorful as the materials themselves, creating powerful experiences for the viewer as well as the participants of the project. “In most of our installations, communities and the audience are invited to engage proactively in the production of the artwork,” Isabel explains.

Their inclusive art form resonates with a wide audience due in part to their concepts presenting familiar experiences that everyone goes through in their everyday lives. “Perhaps we can say that it just came forth unaffectedly and in a natural manner as we have been working as husband and wife and at the same time raising our five children, it compels us to work on the idea of our domestic concerns and everyday experiences within our community and translate these into an art form,” Isabel says.

The couple’s choice of materials is also a key component to their art with Alfredo saying that, “we tend to use everyday materials as a strategy for the audience to relate and interact with the artwork as the material itself and the object becomes the signifier of meaning.”

For this year’s Art Fair Philippines, Alfredo and Isabel will be presenting a project that they’ve been working on for the past seven years, this time collaborating with an artist whom Isabel says “was often overlooked and regarded as inferior to many.” Their work also delves into a sticky subject—the state of the local contemporary art scene. While it’s never been as vibrant in so many years, there are mumblings about the art scene’s commercial slant. Isabel admits that it is an interesting phase, adding that “there is so much going on and in a very fast pace that we have to react in one way or another, and because of this, we feel that there is a need for us to sift through it.”

Alfredo sees the situation as nothing new, citing historical parallels when artists created commissioned work for their patrons, such

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the mabini art project IS an exhIbItIon that attemptS to manIpulate our perceptIon of mabInI Street art by reconfIgurIng thoSe paIntIngS In thIS InStallatIon. “edIfIce” IS a work of 500 pIeceS of mabInI oIl paIntIngS mounted on wood.

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“In most of our installations, communities and the audience are invited to engage proactively in the production of the artwork.”

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as royalty and religious institutions. “Our interest lies in the fact that this matter will always be a part of the deal and the dynamics of art-making, and it is important for us artists to make sense of what it’s all about for us to be able to question and respond to the system, perhaps through the work that we produce,” Alfredo explains.

Apart from their preparations for their exhibition, Alfredo and Isabel have been traveling back to the Philippines for a special reason. The couple is laying the groundwork for The Fruit Juice Factory, “a place basically for engagement,” as Isabel puts it. The space provides the opportunity to rekindle ties, and to continue with their collaborative practice.

“Our reason for involving communities and audience members to participate in artistic projects is to ‘create communal experiences’ and thereby ‘formulate meaning.’”

february 2016 • eSQuIre

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MaHB

CARS

Taming the beast Jaguar Xe IS determIned to be a bad cat

by Jason K. ang

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The Jaguar XE sedan is a dangerous car. We found this out the hard way, as it first gave us a hard conk on the head, then carved out a little bit of our shin. The first was courtesy of its low, coupe-like roofline, the second by way of an angular air vent oddly sticking out of the dashboard. Thinking back the following day, I couldn’t accept that it was my fault. I regularly get in and out of different cars and don’t get a scratch. Now it’s two in one day.

It had to be the Jag. It certainly looks the part, all Darth Vader evil especially

in the dark gray paint scheme. The face that Jaguar prefers now is a beady-eyed scowl. The headlamps are tucked low, with a furrowed brow courtesy of the swooping hood. The grille is an understated black rectangle framed in chrome. Embedded within is a grinning cat surrounded by red. That red badge and an engine vent in the front fender that reads “R-Sport”—those are overt clues that this XE is tuned for driving.

Those, and the sedan’s long-slung stance, with large 18-inch wheels poking out from the fenders, are a firm invitation to party.

by far the greatest source of entertainment in the Xe is in the driving. the engine emits a subtle growl at idle. It grows louder quickly and disproportionately with each small prod of the accelerator.

There’s a small rear spoiler, and aluminum tread plates on the doorsill. The front bumper, side sills, and side power vents are all specific to the R-Sport.

Park yourself in the Jaguar’s cockpit— mind the roof and the air vent on the way in—and you feel like you are integrated into the car itself. The starter button flashes red, like a pulse. Push it and the rotary shifter, to use a bad James Bond pun, rises to the occasion.

All the expected creature comforts are standard in the XE. These include automatic dual-zone climate control, parking sensors on all corners of the car, and backup camera. The audio system is controlled by touchscreen, and it can integrate phone and streaming functions via Bluetooth. The leather sport seats are firm and supportive. They’re trimmed with a combination of leather and mesh fabric.

By far the greatest source of entertainment in the XE is in the driving. The engine emits a subtle growl at idle. It grows louder quickly and disproportionately with each small prod of the accelerator. The turbocharger spools up quickly and provides instant gratification, even outside sport mode. Engage sport and the 2.0-liter turbo revs more quickly.

That responsiveness is baked into the Jaguar XE, and not just grafted on. Rather than use an existing design, the XE uses a newly-developed monocoque chassis. That frame makes intensive use of aluminum, which is lighter than steel, building on Jaguar’s experience with aluminum. Its flagship XJ is also built on an aluminum frame, making it lighter than some rivals.

In the XE, 75 percent of the chassis is constructed from aluminum.

The payback is that the XE has the acceleration feel and agility of a sports car.

The steering is quick and responsive, thanks to the tuned electric power steering system and sports suspension.

The Jaguar XE is the company’s bid to take a healthy chunk of the premium compact sedan segment. The default choices in this segment are all German: solid in both construction and perceived value. The XE provides a healthy challenge by using a lighter chassis, and a more responsive driving feel.

Jaguar seems to relish its antagonistic image, first proclaiming that “it’s good to be bad” with a trio of British actors in its Superbowl ad, then providing a prototype car to the latest Bond villain. The XE continues that theme, all anger and tension.

Which provides quite an entertaining experience for the driver. The XE may have been a pain to get into, but once you’re behind the wheel, you won’t want to stop.

february 2016 • eSQuIre

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MaHB

BOOKS

Femme Fatale a look at foUR fEmalE hERoInES and thEIR UnUSUal boUtS wIth lovE.

by SaSha martinez illuStrationS by alySSe aSilo

Th e Pu M Pki n e aTe r

The LasT Lover

Penelope Mortimer

Can Xue

The vividness ascribed to the unnamed heroine—with her diagnosed hysteria, her series of marriages (her latest husband is a successful playwright, carelessly callous with her emotions, casually unfaithful with nannies and starlets), and her ever-growing brood of offspring—all make for dark comedy. But only until our nameless narrator turns the tables on the reader and goes right for emotional rawness. This novel was the basis of a 1964 film of the same name.

Winner of the 2015 Best Translated Book Award, this novel takes the reader into a lyrical, psychedelic, fractal-ridden trip through the messy and all-toointertwined relationships of wives and husbands and mistresses and sometimeparamours. The prose is fraught with fantasy, and the plot energetically meanders with the characters’ hapless but always vivid journeys toward love. The Last Lover has been translated from the Chinese by Annelise Finegan Wasmoen.

haLf a LifeLong roManCe

Meike Zier vogel

Magda

The steady publication of the English-language translations of Eileen Chang’s oeuvre has been bringing her lushly romantic and politically subversive brand of literature to more and more readers. In Half a Lifelong Romance, we once again meet a cast of characters caught in love affairs rendered forbidden by duty to one’s family, to one’s social caste, to the revolving uprisings in one’s country. The quiet language brings to the fore impressions of Ang Lee’s Lust, Caution.

Meike Ziervogel—founder of the independent Peirene Press, which specializes in short fiction in translation—has written her own novel, about the life of Magda Goebbels. Blending historical fact and poetic license, we meet the wife of the Nazi propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels first as an illegitimate child, then as a woman desperate for home and security, and then as a woman prided as the Nazi ideal of womanhood—whose fanatic devotion for the Führer compels her to usher her children into the bunker for certain death.

eileen Chang

“You learn nothing by hurting others; you only learn by being hurt. Where I had been viable, ignorant, rash and loving I was now an accomplished bitch, creating and emptiness in which my own emptiness might survive.”

“She burned with desire, walking back and forth under the sun like a beast.”

all bookS avaIlablE at natIonal bookStoRE

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“—longing for this storm to arrive, hoping that she will be tossed aside by it, overwhelmed, so that she no longer needs to think for herself and can thus be released from all responsibility.”

“The world was suddenly bathed in light that made everything transparent, all of it real and precise.”

M O D E L C A R L O K AT R E C O M O D E L S G R O O M I N G M U R I E L V E G A P E R E Z G R O O M I N G A S S I S TA N T J E F F D E G U Z M A N I N T E R N A LYA N A C A B R A L

Style

FEBRUARY 2016

IN THIS SKIN PHOTOGRAPHS BY PIA PUNO ST YLING BY CLIFFORD OLANDAY

Make your way to the recently opened second level of Hermès, where, amid the now-available furniture and homeware (get your leather-trimmed portable lamp here), is a wider selection of clothing and accessories for men, including various applications of leather; from loafers to briefcases, jackets to bracelets. The manipulation of animal hide is the French house’s expertise, so much so that if they could make everything with leather, they probably would. In fact, they already do. A sweatshirt in croc? Did it. A double-zip hoodie in watersnake? Done that. A bicycle? A pink elephant? A ball cap in buttery-soft lambskin? Yes, yes (it’s a decorative objective), and yes! Anything is possible in the hands of their artisans, and now, you can start building a life surrounded by the most beautiful skins right here.

Lambskin leather cap, silk button-down shirt, and cotton crepe shorts. Jardin d’Osier wallpaper.

Second floor, Hermès, Greenbelt 4, Makati City.

Style

It’s all in the details: At Hermès, fasten your shirt with a lambskin clasp and secure your watch with a scratchresistant barenia leather strap.

Cotton shirt with lambskin leather collar tab, cotton jersey T-shirt, and Arceau Chrono watch with barenia calfskin strap.

Perspectives Cavalieres wallpaper.

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When a leather jacket is crazy soft and crazy light—which is what sets an Hermès piece apart from the rest—it makes it possible to wear in whatever weather, including ours.

Reversible lambskin leather jacket, cotton button-down shirt, cotton gabardine trousers with zip details. Pantongraphe reading floor lamp and Lanterne d’Hermes

FEBRUARY 2016 • ESQUIRE

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Style

Hermès indulges its fans with the expansion of its flagship store in Greenbelt 3. The new 160-square-meter extension, found above the original store, features (apart from men’s wear) its fabulous Maison collection, a covetable line of immaculately crafted furnishings and accessories that bear the French hyper-luxury brand’s impeccable cachet.

A fabulous collection needs a spectacular home infused with the Hermès spirit. The French brand commissioned Paris-based Rena Dumas Architecture Interieur for its interior design. Details were considered to give Hermès clients an enjoyable experience.

Huge windows allow for ample light, while Brazilian teak wood floors give the space a luxurious yet cozy ambience where guests can leisurely examine and appreciate the Maison collection’s exquisite offerings.

Stepping inside the boutique is pretty much like walking into a well-appointed and tastefully decorated home. The dining area features tables and chairs by Jean-Michel Frank—a prestigious re-edition coveted by serious collectors from all over the world. Fine china and tableware accompany the quaint setting. A baby section is filled with things for the stylish junior set, while an office vignette seems like the perfect work station for the design-conscious executive.

Over at the living area, Antonio Citterio’s grayed oak-and-leather sofa faces Jean-Michel Frank’s parchment leather-covered coffee

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table. A storage coffer in canaleto wood, lined with bull leather draws the eye—it features hidden compartments that slide languidly with a gentle push. Lights by Michele de Lucchi and crystal and porcelain decor from the La Table Hermès collection are scattered about for easy viewing.

A sweep of the interior space would reveal a striking wall installation designed by Japanese architect Shigeru Ban. News of his collaboration with Hermès caused ripples in the design world, and with good reason. Ban, the 2015 Pritzker Prize awardee, created a series of panels that can be customized for walls or used as dividers. Its holding structure is made from aluminum and features a grid of H-shaped forms on which various panels upholstered in exquisite skins can be attached. Hermès offers a range of materials for the panels’ covers, including crocodile skin, cowhide, luxurious silk-and-linen blends, cotton and abaca, and pure cotton. Shelving and drawers are also an option, giving customers the freedom to craft interior architectural details unique to their personal spaces.

Hermès isn’t just about design or prestige; it’s more about a rarefied lifestyle. With the Maison collection, they invite you to take that delicate and special experience home.— DEVI DE VEYRA Natural calfskin leather jacket, poplin cotton shirt, cotton gabardine trousers, and Etriviere barenia calfskin bracelet.

There is a good possibility that with care and a bit of luck, a leather jacket will outlive you, your children, and even your childrenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s children. And when made of calfskin, which wears no protective coating, the garment will look even better with use as it gains patina over time.

Natural calfskin leather jacket, cotton jersey T-shirt, flannel-and-wool cashmere trousers, and Steve bag. Sellier chair.

FEBRUARY 2016 â&#x20AC;˘ ESQUIRE

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TAKING STOCK Three new shops accommodate the expanding tastes of men.

BY MIGUEL ESCOBAR PHOTOGRAPHS BY MAGIC LIWANAG

You don’t often allow yourself to admit it, but you like to shop. It’s easily half the fun of dressing well.

There’s the thrill of the chase—in the quest for a sport coat, a white shirt, or a pair of shoes that no one else has and which took ages to find. That’s what men look for in a retail establishment—a shop where they can discover pieces that are difficult to come across or unlike most others. And because of this thirst for shopping, options are expanding. More and more stores are keen to provide men with what they seek, and you’d be damned if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

32 E S Q U I R E • F E B R U A R Y 2 0 1 6

M O D E L C R I ST I A N D AT R E C O M O D E L S G R O O M I N G J OA N T E OT I C O H A I R M A I CY G U T I E R R E Z

Style

CALVIN KLEIN PLATINUM

You’d be hard-pressed to name brands that are as globally iconic as American fashion and retail titan Calvin Klein.

While CK is better known for its underwear and jeans (not to mention its famously risqué advertising campaigns), the house has long branched out into several sub-labels.

Among the newest is Calvin Klein Platinum—a label launched by creative director Kevin Carrigan in 2014 as the part of a reorganization of the company’s portfolio.

Platinum identifies itself as a younger, more modern side of the classic brand. With clear influences from high fashion’s present infatuation with sportswear and athleisure, the men’s wear collection offers timeless silhouettes in contemporary cuts and luxurious Italian fabrics like alpaca wool, merino wool, cashmere, and silk. Black, white, and shades of gray are the dominant colors across their current offerings (with occasional blues). The brand stays true to Calvin Klein’s proclivity for the traditional, the essential, and the classic, while at once being current and decidedly urban. Expect to find clothes that are simple yet exquisite on your visit.

SM Aura, Taguig City

From top right: Sport coat (P32,385), T-shirt (P10,985), and pants (P14,985). Leather jacket (P64,485) and shirt (P14,685). Opposite: Cardigan (P23,985), shirt (P12,985), and pants (P17,685).

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Style

TRYST STUDIO

People have never taken to travel as much as they do now, and one noteworthy effect of all this exploration is retail inspiration. Consider Michele Chan, the food retailer who was so captivated by Europe and European style that she decided to bring brands from Italy, Spain, Germany, and France to the Philippines through the new multi-brand lifestyle shop Tryst Studio. “I feel that European fashion is more classic, less flashy, and has better workmanship.

[Europeans] value these things,” she says in praise of the culture and clothing she brings to Manila. Her selections do give that impression: Incotex is an Italian label that specializes in trousers with impeccable fit; Barcelona-based Koike carries shirts in playful, original prints; and Robert Friedman is another Italian shirt company that combines Italian elegance with American style (these are their three most popular men’s brands).

The priorities that tie Tryst’s brands together are clear: they’re all relatively hard-to-find specialty brands, priced above the High Street range but well below the popular luxury brands—just right, with a premium on quality and uniqueness. “The brands that we chose all specialize in a particular item. It’s all they do. In a way, they’ve mastered it,” Michelle explains.

Since their early pop-ups and residence in Myth in Greenbelt 5, Tryst has been quietly building a following, and is now expecting to bring in more brands in the new year. Their fearless selection of quality-first brands has done well to bridge Europe to Manila.

Greenbelt 4, Makati City 34 E S Q U I R E • F E B R U A R Y 2 0 1 6

Right, clockwise from top left: Shoes (P6,995) by Castañer, bowtie (P2,695)

by Altea, shirt (P8,595) by Robert Friedman, hat (P3,095) by Bailey, scarf (P4,995) by Altea, and pants (P12,595) by Incotex.

Right: Shirt (P7,595) by Koike, pants (P11,995) by Incotex, shoes (P6,995) by Castañer, and hat (P3,495) by Bailey.

Opposite: Shirt (P8,295) by Robert Friedman and hat (P2,495) by Bailey.

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Style

From top: Backpack (P10,000) by Archival, messenger bag (14,900) by Gnome and Bow, and backpack (P16,400) by Gnome and Bow.

URBAN TRAVELLER & CO

Ours is an age defined by the Internet. And while the Filipino man has only recently grown accustomed to buying things online, web-based stores have been gaining ground against their brick-and-mortar counterparts. Take Urban Traveller & Co, the web-only store that carries bags and accessories you won’t easily find anywhere else. It started with Venque, a Canadian brand of bags that entrepreneur and frequent traveler Hans Fernandez decided to peddle locally. Once the demand made itself clear, Hans took in more brands of the same kind of goods: all utilitarian essentials of high quality and design. Today, their product mix seems straight out of an explorer’s wet dream: backpacks made of superstrong quanta fabric from Venque (ideal for adventurers), slim wallets with hidden flaps (for large bills) from Bellroy, and weather-resistant, military-grade duffel bags from Bomber & Company. Hans puts durability and longevity on a pedestal when selecting his brands. “The Filipino man is becoming more and more discerning about the items he carries every day. We’re all looking for products that are of high quality, durability, and function,” he says.

And because there’s no one to assist you right away in a virtual store, the site has put together a Lifestyle Curator, which narrows down products based on what you need.

Choose “minimalist” from the menu, and you will be faced with a forest green portfolio, among others. Hans notes, “We understand that people have different needs, and we want to help match our customers with the perfect carry items.” urbantravellerco.com

PHOTOGRAPHS (PRODUCTS) PAUL DEL ROSARIO

Laptop folio (P16,500) by This is Ground and wallet (P1,250 on notebook) by Natsu.

36 E S Q U I R E • F E B R U A R Y 2 0 1 6

AND NOW, ONE (OR FIVE) FOR THE ROAD For brand-new threads (including a custom suit that’s made in a few days), consider these style destinations.

BY NICOLE LIMOS

Hong Kong: InItIal Steampunk meets Asian dandy.

The brand has turned a subculture into a fashion empire in Hong Kong, where it was founded over 15 years ago.

BesT BeTs The layering pieces in subdued palettes.

Everything echoes a vintage feel that makes the most polished guy look even cooler. exTras Hats—there is one for every look. They’ve expanded into homeware and a dining concept, too.

Shop and eat.

532 Jaffe Road, Causeway Bay; +852 2442 1433.

The lowdown

BangKoK: SSaP Born in New York and now based in Bangkok, this cult brand incorporates camo patterns and Thai techniques in fabric dying to create streetwear, from graphic tees to hoodies to track pants, offered at friendly prices.

BesT BeTs The reversible jacket—camo on one side and black or olive on the other—is on its way to cult status. exTras Denim track pants, anyone?

Gin and Milk, Siam Center; +66 2 658 1000.

The lowdown

Hong Kong: new CreatIonS CuStom taIlorS The lowdown Its sartorial staples with impeccable fit will make it hard for

you to return to the world of ready-to-wear. Here, orders (bespoke shirts, suits, jackets) with all your requested details, from monogramming to collar and lapel rolls, can be finished in a few days. Tip: Drop by the shop on your first day in the city and have yourself measured by the owner, Ramesh Bhojwani (he’s been making madeto-measure pieces for men around the world for over 40 years), and then pick up your orders before your flight back to Manila. He can also have them shipped right to your door for a minimal fee.

BesT BeTs Dress shirts in a wide array of fabrics and prints will please your inner preppy. exTras Boardroom neckties to go with workwear button-down shirts.

Holiday Inn Shopping Arc, Tsim Sha Tsui; +852 2721 6061.

Singapore: BenjamIn Barker The lowdown Founded by an Australia-based Singaporean, this men’s wear label, with boutiques scattered around the plush shopping districts of the city-state, offers an ultradapper wardrobe.

BesT BeTs An eclectic but elegant suit will make you believe in the power of clothes to make things happen—whether in the

office or on a night out. exTras Variations of coats, shirts, and pants can be embellished with an equally deep collection of accessories: pocket squares, suspenders, lapel pins, ties, and leather footwear.

Avail of custom-fitting, embroidery, and other swanky finishes, as well. benjaminbarker.co.

ToKyo: VISVIm The lowdown This

premium men’s label is known for mixing Native American elements with modern Japanese sensibilities in traditionally crafted and detail-focused garments, earning it a cult-like status in global streetwear. Each piece boasts of the brand’s unique construction and “vintage craftsmanship,” which even utilizes natural dyes or Sea Island cotton that’s known for exceptional softness.

BesT BeTs If we can say “everything,” we would, but its premium price point dictates otherwise. Invest in outerwear, luxe sport coats, jackets, or cardigans that are sure to last a lifetime or its famous, sneaker-soled FBT moccasin, a modern rendition of the Native American leather shoe. exTras The brand is available locally, but nothing beats the mothership in Omotesando, which also houses their first café, Little Cloud Coffee.

Gyre, Jingumae Shibuya-ku; +81 3 5468 5424.

Prints Please You can never say that Riccardo Tisci of Givenchy is afraid of prints when much his work has been powered by iconography, whether it was a snarling Rottweiler, a collage of Bambi and a nude female form, or the passion of Jesus imprinted like a ghost on the sweatshirts and overalls in his latest spring collection. More than just a punch of graphic, these visuals are statements of whatever question Tisci may be exploring. Can you be provocative? Are you a sinner or a saint? Are we all prisoners (like JC)? Heavy, right?

For men who might not be ready to wear such statements emblazoned on their chests, Tisci extends a helping hand, releasing a one-off collection inspired by the more elegant jacquard motif of a club tie. Tisci reworked the idea into something more abstract and applied it on wearable pieces like, for example, a reversible bomber jacket, with the micro pattern on its wool side and a clean wash of black on its nylon half, plus accompanying accessories.

If you are still on the fence about putting on a print, even with such a quiet design (from afar, it would appear that you are covered in a flourish of dots), we fully support the compromise of breaking the suit.

Wear just the jacket or just the trouser.

Or wear your workday uniform but carry the printed briefcase.

And what does this pattern say about you? That you are playful, adventurous, whimsical, or fun—to an extent? Or that you are just trying this for now? Whatever it may be, this is a fine way to dive into the fearlessness of prints.

Greenbelt 4, Makati City and ShangriLa Plaza East Wing, Mandaluyong City.

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Style

TO INFINITY More than the mere measurement of the hours, Vacheron Constantin is in the practice of sculpting time.

By Johanna PoBlete

These days, timepieces are no longer purchased simply for their practical function of keeping time, but more for their artistry, and the collective effort—driven by extreme, nearobsessive perfectionism—that it took to create such a thing of beauty and precision. Why else would you spend the equivalent of a cool car or a cushy condo on a wearable accessory?

“There is a very absurd dedication to the highest level of quality that sets apart a certain brand, because it’s unnecessary… to spend so much time laboring over a watch,” says Ellen Sorensen, regional managing director for Vacheron Constantin, the world’s oldest watch manufacturer engaged in uninterrupted activity since 1755. “It’s very artistic in the way that an artist will work hard to search for something beautiful, and more beautiful, and more beautiful… and make something that the world will like, and that’s what would really make it turn on its head.”

It took seven years to create and launch the Harmony collection, which is composed of seven limited edition watches meant to celebrate the 38 E S Q U I R E • F E B R U A R Y 2 0 1 6

260 years since Vacheron Constatin’s founding

by Genevan master watchmaker Jean-Marc Vacheron. Apart from presenting dual-time watches (including a smaller version in 18k white or pink gold set with 88 diamonds), and a chronograph (also with a smaller version in 18k pink gold set with 84 diamonds—the first ladies’ chronograph for the brand), Vacheron also created the world’s thinnest self-winding split-seconds chronograph (only 10 individually numbered watches, each sporting a caliber measuring just 5.20 mm thick) and a tourbillon monopusher chronograph (only 26 watches exist), the last two in platinum.

The Harmony collection deviates from the popular round shape by adopting an alternative cushion shape for the case, in a reinterpretation of one of Vacheron Constantin’s earliest wristwatches, the monopusher chronograph with pulsometric scale from 1928. Originally a medical instrument, the pulsometer chronograph enabled doctors and nurses to take fast readings thanks to the chronograph hand showing the pulse rate after 30 beats on a graduated scale.

Nonetheless, “each detail, each line, each curve, each characteristic, and each reflection has been rethought so as to offer a contemporary projection of Vacheron Constantin’s ancestral expertise,” says Sorensen. “When we talk about design, and that whole process, of course we look to the past, but we also think about the future.”

All seven watches in the Harmony collection follow the form of the 1928 wristwatch; the generous lines of its cushion-shaped case accommodate medium complication and grande complication calibers with differentiated time measurement, whether sequenced (the chronograph and split-seconds chronograph); simplified at a single press (monopusher); precise (tourbillon); heartlinked (pulsometer); or offset (dual-time).

These new calibers are naturally adorned with various finishes: mirror polishing, bevelling, circular graining, and the Côtes de Genève stamp. Color-coded watch hands are reminiscent of a vintage watch, although the hand-designed numerals are all original fonts. The new models also bear a dedicated

From top: Vacheron Constantin has been engaged in uninterrupted activity since 1755. An early model from 1928—a monopusher chronograph with a pulsometric scale—served as the inspiration for the Harmony collection. Today, they create only 28,000 watches every year. Opposite: The seven limited-edition watches of the Harmony collection celebrates the 260 years of Vacheron Constantin.

scrolling pattern, a motif known as fleurisanne engraving, inspired by the arabesques adorning the balance-cock of the oldest pocket watch signed by Jean-Marc Vacheron in 1755. (The engraving is found on the oscillating weight, the chronograph bridge or the balance-cock of these models.) Other special aesthetic touches include the column wheel screw and the chronograph gear shaped into a Maltese cross, the brand’s emblem, never mind if the detail is hidden from view. Finally, engraved on the caseback is a commemorative inscription.

Vacheron Constantin crafts only 28,000 watches annually; their refined design makes it more a practice of sculpting time than mere measurement or timekeeping. “It’s really to showcase their watchmaking skills that they can produce this kind of unique—few pieces only—watches,” says Emerson Yao, managing director of Lucerne, the local distributor of Vacheron Constantin, among other luxury watch brands. He cites the new-generation monopusher as an example. “The first chronograph in the world is a monopusher, because it came from the pocket watch chronograph—but that watch is easier to make because it’s a bigger case, whereas this one is miniaturized,” he points out.

Lucerne and Vacheron are currently discussing a collaboration on a limited edition watch exclusively for the Philippine market, in

time for the former’s 35th year anniversary in 2017. Previously, Lucerne had partnered with other brands to commemorate their 25th and 30th anniversaries. “Limited edition watches are always interesting for the market… but we don’t do it every year, we want to keep it special,” says Yao. “There will be some unique features in the watch, like the color of the dial, we’re trying to find a way to highlight the 35… it might be a bit tough. In the past two editions that we had, we had the Philippine map at the back, so we’ll probably continue on with that tradition. Maybe a unique case?”

For the discerning few, bespoke pieces that are literally works of art can also be commissioned via Vacheron Constantin’s Ateliers Cabinotiers special order service.

“A bespoke piece costs quite a lot, that’s why most people would buy limited edition pieces, because that’s the closest you can get,” says Yao. There’s roughly a 50-percent markup depending on how complicated the project will be, and a panel will have to approve your design. From experience, Sorensen says it’s either a specific technical tweak to the complication or a type of Métiers d’Art, like a picture that you want to have incorporated.

Either way, it’s a unique keepsake to be handed down the line. “When buying a watch like Vacheron Constantin, you’re really buying a piece of history, something that you can hand on to the next generation, something that’s alive. It has no battery, it works from the motion of your hand, and it will last forever, for hundreds and hundreds of years,” says Yao. “In fact you’re creating your own history, your own tradition with that watch, because it marks all the significant occasions and memories in your life so you want it to be marked by a very, very good brand. It doesn’t have to go all the way to a Vacheron, but some people would use a Vacheron.”

Lucerne, Shangri-La Plaza Mall, Mandaluyong FEBRUARY 2016 • ESQUIRE

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Style The Art of Bulgari: 130 Years of Italian Masterpieces is staged at the Tokyo National Museum. With approximately 250 pieces on exhibit, it is the first retrospective of this scale to be held in the country.

LET THERE BE ROCKS What she really wants is a piece of happiness—preferably shiny.

By CLIFFORD OLANDAy

What is jewelry but a pleasure directed toward women?

Consider the push present. It is the token that husbands offer to their wives as a thank you for, well, pushing out a baby into the world.

Notable examples include the bright blue rock Jay Z gave to Beyoncé for the birth of Blue Ivy, the engraved earrings Marc Anthony presented to Jennifer Lopez to celebrate the arrival of their twins, and the stack of gold bracelets Kanye West gave to Mrs. West for delivering North West.

The mommyverse’s reception to the growing trend has been mixed. Those who object argue that it is overindulgent, another excuse for extravagance, while those who have no problem receiving a post-delivery surprise figure that, 40 E S Q U I R E • f E b R U a R y 2 0 1 6

while a bouncing baby is reward enough, VVS stones are pretty sweet, too. In the future, when they look at their glittering baubles, they will remember the occasion of birth with fondness (instead of just pain).

If mankind had one great social media account, its feed would be littered with all sorts of jewels shining a light on the happy faces of women. After all, it is tradition to mark the passage into a new stage of life, from birth to motherhood and beyond, with some sort of token. For a woman, that can mean anything from a delicate necklace with a pendant of her birthstone on her 18th birthday to a gold watch inlaid with a smattering of diamonds for Christmas or Valentine’s (this month—do not forget). For the man at the giving end of

this spectrum, it usually means the ring, that ultimate token a woman must accept in order to accept him. Then comes marriage. Then comes the baby. Then comes the push present.

And so throughout history men have been honoring women with the gift of jewelry. At the Tokyo National Museum, The Art of Bulgari: 130 Years of Italian Masterpieces chronicles the evolution of the legendary jeweler through approximately 250 pieces, which have been gathered from the company’s archives as well as private collections. While the retrospective is a gem-encrusted biography of the luxury titan, it also tells little stories about men and women.

CONtINueD

Observe Elizabeth Taylor’s sautoir with a Burmese sapphire (center), the spring-mounted floral brooch that quivers at every movement (top center), the Diva necklace inspired by a Japanese kimono (top right), the serpent-shaped necklace (bottom right), or the cosmic Buddha pendant (leftmost).

In whatever form, Bulgari pieces exhibit daring experimentation, generous volume, and a unique combination of colors.

A Note on Emotion It is all about feelings. at least, that’s what Lucia Silvestri looks for when figuring out what to do with each and every stone she encounters as the creative director of bulgari Jewellery. “It’s something that you have to feel. It has to have great passion inside,” she muses. and so Silvestri spends hours and hours playing with gems, often talking to them (“I ask, ‘What are you doing here?’”), until, say, a 125-carat sapphire inspires her to mount it on a geometric garland that moves like a water’s cascade. Sometimes the gem speaks. Other times it is unclear. “I can see that the gem is talking to me, but it’s not in the right way, and so we re-cut it. It is something like a love affair,” she explains.

“I hope you can feel that behind the jewelry is a passion for our gems.” We do.

february 2016 • eSQuIre

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Style continued

Like how, in 1932, during the epoch of Art Deco, Giorgio Bulgari, son of founder Sotirio, presented a Trombino ring to his wife Leonilde for their engagement. The trumpet-shaped, iced-out piece, with its characteristic central stone flanked by baguette diamonds, appears as if it was made of light. It remains one of Bulgari’s most successful creations. Noted jewelry collector Elizabeth Taylor had one.

And how, in 1949, Hollywood movie star Tyrone Power and actress Linda Christian (dubbed the “Anatomic Bomb”) arrived in Rome, drawing thousands of admirers, for the occasion of their wedding. Of course, the couple chose their rings from a shop of great renown, the Via Condotti flagship store of Bulgari. Her wedding dress, designed by Sorelle Fontana, is also part of the exhibit.

Then there is the violet-eyed beauty herself.

Taylor’s personal collection, which is said to be one of the greatest in the world, cannot be discussed without mentioning her torrential love story with Richard Burton. The man knew of her appetite for jewels and thus spoiled her with trinkets from Bulgari every chance he could. For their engagement, there was a ring with a Colombian emerald, which Taylor later described in a letter addressed to its new owners

(it was auctioned to benefit the Elizabeth Taylor AIDS Foundation) as “the first piece of jewelry that I received from Richard Burton.” At the bottom of the page, in an elegant scrawl, she wrote: “Wear it with love!”

For their wedding in 1964, there was a necklace of emeralds and diamonds. To celebrate her 40th birthday, Burton chose a sautoir with a 65-carat Burmese sapphire. It reminded him of Taylor’s vivid eyes. There were more and more. And if they had children, well, we’re sure this would be a longer list filled with spectacular pieces of thank-you jewelry.

But not even all the diamonds in the world could hold a stormy relationship such as theirs together. The couple first divorced in 1974, got back together for a second shot at marriage in 1975, and then divorced for a second time in 1976.

It didn’t work out. She kept the presents.

We imagine they made her happy. “[D]iamonds won’t keep you warm at night, but they’re sure fun when the sun shines,” Taylor famously said.

Maybe she thought about Burton every time she wore them. Maybe she just felt giddy about having a monster-size sapphire hanging from her neck. And therein lies the real worth of jewelry: It’s not how much they cost, but how they make you feel.

Greenbelt 4, Makati City

Throughout their tempestuous love affair, Richard Burton lavished Bulgari jewelry upon Elizabeth Taylor. The actress wore this yellow chiffon dress, together with a brooch of emeralds and diamonds, on her wedding day in 1964. Top right: A limited edition digital watch, inscribed with Bulgari Roma on its bezel, was a Christmas gift to the jeweler’s top 100 clients in 1975.

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A Note on Luxury a bulgari watch is a luxury watch, points out fabrizio buonamassa Stigliani, director of the bulgari Watches Design Center, and for this very reason, it must be timeless. “you have to manage in a very careful way all the details in terms of materials and design,” he says. Exhibit Number One: bulgari Octo Mono Retrogradi. Though its elements are unconventional—a single hand that sweeps across the minutes in a 210-degree arc and a tiny aperture that reveals the hour—the watch remains very much elegant and, maybe most important, not at all confusing to read. “I love this watch because it recalls a dashboard,” Stigliani adds. “I am a former car designer so I have these elements in my mind. It would be interesting to develop these kinds of things.”

These kinds of things also include Exhibit Number Two: bulgari Magnesium, the intelligent watch that keeps sensitive information safe in an underground bunker somewhere in the Swiss alps. Pretty cool. but if you’re not interested in data management, you still have “...a beautiful mechanical watch—unique with the bulgari taste [and] bulgari materials.” and if you prefer something stripped down, here is Exhibit Number Three: bulgari Roma finissimo.

The commemorative edition, which celebrates the 40th anniversary of the original Roma, translates the mastery of volume inherent in all bulgari jewelry into a dizzying slenderness. We’ll let Stigliani describe this, his favorite watch, in his own words: “Works very well. Perfect on the wrist. and it’s for me.” That, my friend, is a true luxury.

Style “The culture that has been established in the basketball world in the last five years has been the love for sneakers,” says former PBA player Jeffrey Cariaso.

ALL DAY I DREAM ABOUT SNEAKERS P h o t o g R A P h S ARTU NEPOMUCENO (CARAISO) ANd FRUHLEIN ECONAR (ALCARAZ)

Why do men love their kicks? Blame it on Jordan.

BY ALYANA CABRAL

They say it all started with basketball. It all started with discovering local barangay courts, playing with grade school friends after classes, joining high school varsity teams, and watching Michael Jordan soar through the air like a god.

This is what most sneaker lovers would say.

The history of their passion starts with playing ball in tsinelas or black leather school shoes before getting their first pair of Jordans or Chuck Taylors. And just like the professions they would grow up to pursue—whether as a basketball prodigy or a gifted musician or an artist extraordinaire—the passion for sneakers begins with the hobby of collecting before it ultimately becomes a way of life.

The history books would say that the sneaker culture really did start with basketball. The first trainers that went on to inspire many sneaker

silhouettes were made for the sport. That was when coach Chuck Taylor joined the Converse company in the 1920s. It was the earliest case of sports star endorsement for sneakers, which also started the high-top All Star’s journey toward becoming a court staple. This carried on in the following decades as new names came along, bringing with them the now ubiquitous swoosh and three stripes.

Former PBA player Jeffrey “The Jet” Caraiso was one of those ’80s kids who used to rock Chucks on the court. At the time, he was an eager grade-schooler who wore a green-andwhite St. Peter’s jersey and very short shorts.

His childhood days of growing up in San Francisco ended gracefully after playing college ball in Sonoma State University. His rise to basketball stardom began when he got drafted by the Alaska Aces in 1995, where he was named

Rookie of the Year and won all championships in a Grand Slam during his sophomore season.

“The shoes I wore to play in during that time were the Nike Air Max Penny, Nike Air More Uptempo, and the Nike Air Swoopes, to name a few,” Jeffrey recalls, but insists that he wasn’t really picky about his shoes. “I just wanted to get on the court and play.”

“Filipinos eh, so halos lahat ng bata naglalaro naman talaga,” says Mong Alcaraz, lead guitarist of the bands Sandwich and Chicosci. As a kid, he played on makeshift courts with his friends by attaching hoops to trees or electric posts. Later on in his college days, he had a skating phase and donned Etnies. Today, he plays basketball again in his village with his neighbors.

Another sneaker geek who started with the same passion is Erick Goto, a designer for Nike who is based in Los Angeles. “As a Filipino, FEBRUARY 2016 • ESQUIRE

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Style basketball was the sport I grew up loving, and shoes were just part of that culture,” he says.

“I still remember my visit to local courts as a young kid. I experienced all of that. Basketball isn’t just a game for Filipinos. It’s something that galvanizes a community.” Erick used his childhood experience as inspiration for his designs. He is responsible for the Philippine flag-inspired Lebron 12 Low, as well as the Kobe 9 EM Philippines’ idiosyncratic elements, which were influenced by hand-painted local courts, banig weaving, and the tsinelas.

But back to Jordan: when His Airness shook the basketball world as an unparalleled player (and starred in an animated Looney Tunes film to boot), Nike jumped at the opportunity to etch his silhouette onto a pair of kicks.

Kids looked up to him like a superhero, and religiously kept up with new releases every year.

Mong Alcaraz, lead guitarist of Sandwich and Chicosci, owns over 600 pairs of sneakers, including a Nike Hyperdunk Marty McFly, his favorite.

44 E S Q U I R E • F E B R U A R Y 2 0 1 6

“Whenever the latest Jordans came out, it was always a big deal. I remember teammates and friends rushing to the nearest Foot Locker to make sure they copped their pairs. At the time, it was bought by people because they wanted to wear the latest Jordan out there,” says Jeffrey.

Growing up, Erick was also one of these kids who always pined for the latest Jordans. On the other hand, Mong’s parents bought him Jordans when he was younger, every time he got good grades in school.

The Jordan wave in the ’90s was a phenomenon that was a blessing for then-rookie players like Jeffrey. Nike expanded their repertoire to include more athletes, and began to give out sponsorships, which served him well since his second year in the league.

It wasn’t long before the brand and its competitors extended their relationships to

hip-hop artists and celebrities. More sneakers named after popular celebrities were being made, and the kicks that once dwelled on the courts now ruled the streets and even the runway. Consequently, superstars were being immortalized by footwear giants, and the fanaticism surrounding their personas were carried over to the shoe itself. Hence, the frenzy reflective of the sneaker community becoming more and more deeply ingrained into our culture.

But before sneakers became the epitome of cool, rap group Run DMC were just getting ready to release their hit single “My Adidas,” which fostered the connection between hiphop and sneakers throughout the rest of history.

Ever since then, music and fashion have never been more strongly intertwined. “Sonic Youth were always in Chucks, Kurt Cobain was always in Jack Purcells, the Beastie Boys were in Adidas, Run DMC were in Adidas, Pearl Jam came out in the MTV Awards in Air Huarache Mowabbs, Eddie Vedder was in Jordan 6s, Flea was in Jordan 4s...” Mong goes on about how he remembers the little things about his idols.

“Because they look cool. And I wanna be cool.”

Now, everybody wants to be cool. Everybody wants to be seen wearing the latest of the latest.

People rush to the shoe stores and fall in line early to make sure they get their hands on the latest Yeezys, and the price was inconsequential because there’s only a hundred pairs available.

Besides the superstar endorsement tactic and the exclusivity of shoe models with different colorways, “there is a big hype machine [nowadays],” as Mong put it. Technological advancements meant the proliferation of designs and the improvement of the shoe, as well as the rise of sneakers’ social media fame. Thus, the sneaker collectors were born. Some would collect for pure passion, while others for the hype. There is even a “rock-and-stock” phenomenon where “people [would buy] two pairs—one to play in, and the other to collect.” For Jeffrey, this was the extreme of shoe collecting.

“Be authentic,” Erick advises about sneaker design. The same can be said about shoe collecting in this white noise age of overhyped designs. The superheroes that have christened sneakers with their own names are slowly becoming myths whose personas we either worship or forget. It helps to be aware of how we fall victim to certain sneaker trends and whatnot. Like all other kinds of collectibles, it’s more about building a relationship with a pair of shoes than worrying about the colorway release you just missed last year. “It’s really about what you like,” Mong says. And after all, these things last us for years. Might as well pour your heart into it.

Grooming FEBRUARY 2016

The split-level space of a former bar has been converted into the second location of Felipe and Sons.

THE NEW WAVE There’s more room to grow in the world of barbery as evident in the expansion of Felipe and Sons.

BY MANICA C. TIGLAO PHOTOGRAPHS BY PAUL DEL ROSARIO

There isn’t a dictionary entry for “barberdashery,” a term that describes the barber shop-slash-haberdashery that is Felipe and Sons. And perhaps that’s a good thing, as it’s given the partners behind the grooming establishment the freedom to run free with their idea of what a barbershop should be.

Opened in 2013, Felipe and Sons kickstarted a renewed interest in revolutionizing grooming for men, elevating the no-frills cut and shave to an art form. Gone are the days when the definition of the modern gentleman equaled offhand selections of hairstyles and clothing as the grooming industry continues to thrive and in turn fuel an appreciation for better services in more refined surroundings. Dark and masculine, Felipe and Sons feels luxurious and inviting at once, a comfortable place to linger with a cup of freshly brewed coffee—or a glass of whisky, wine, or beer, if you please—while waiting for your appointment.

Buoyed by the success of their first store, located along a side street in Makati, partners Marco Katigbak, Paolo Canivel, and Martin Warner recently set up shop in Ortigas. “We never knew that we would open a barbershop,” shares Katigbak. “It was just always a topic of conversation. Small details like just having updated magazines in the store—these were things we noticed and talked about. I guess we always thought [barbershops] could be done differently.” Canivel suggested integrating a haberdashery into the concept after they had found the space. “It was big, so we thought about what else we could do with it that would work with a barbershop. Tailoring had potential, CONTINUED so we spent about a year ingraining that idea in our minds.”

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Grooming cONTINuED

Their remarkable foresight and attention to detail have wrought a beautifully thoughtout space in their second location, a two-story establishment that concurrently serves as their office headquarters. Most of the action happens on the first floor, where the barbershop is located, and where Felipe and Sons’ services— from haircuts to luxurious shaves, alcoholic accompaniments optional—are offered. But the second floor will also draw you in: Here, rows of tailored shirts are on display alongside suites that double as a fitting room and a private space for VIP clients as well as visiting barbers from around the world. The haberdashery is a onestop shop for those keen on building a bespoke wardrobe, with tailors and consultants on hand to create custom button-down shirts, suits, pants, and other clothing pieces. “We remain flexible in case customers want something off the beaten path, like if they have a unique fabric they want to use, we can accommodate that,” Katigbak says.

Inspired by other barberdasheries abroad— including Baxter Finley in West Hollywood, a barbershop and retail space fashioned with brick walls and vintage cast iron chairs—Felipe and Sons puts as much a premium on great design as it does on its range of offerings.

Part of the allure, after all, is the transportive experience that sets apart the establishment from your neighborhood barber.

“Our focus has always been the customer experience. The brands that have inspired us ever since are Starbucks and Apple—how they’ve evolved their industries and how they interact with customers—that’s always been part of our DNA,” Katigbak says. “We take it very seriously when customers aren’t satisfied, or when we feel like we didn’t reach their

Buzz or Snip?

A barber and a stylist weigh in on the techniques and trends in the art of cutting hair.

EARL DADO, BARBER Dado’s fascination with barbery dates back to his monthly trips to the barber as a child. His grandmother eventually picked up on Dado’s attentiveness and remarked, “Grandson, one day you should open your own barbershop.” Dado says, “It stuck in my mind as a kid, and that’s how it all started.”

The Guam-based, U.S.trained barber, who was in the

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expectations. Beyond aesthetics or services, when you come to the shop, we want the total experience to be the notable difference.”

To accomplish that, Felipe and Sons empowers both barber and client. Katigbak compares local barbers to “rock star” barbers like New York’s Rich Mendoza, barber to a bevy of NBA players and hip-hop A-listers.

“We tell our employees not to see themselves as laborers. They’re professional barbers and tailors who are experts at what they do,” he says. “In urban barbershops overseas, the ones making the name for the shop are the barbers themselves. You have to give your clients hope that they will look good after visiting you. A good haircut gives men confidence.”

El Pueblo Real de Manila, J. Vargas Avenue corner ADB Avenue, Ortigas Center. felipeandsons.com.

From top: Maintain your shave and haircut at home with specialized grooming tools and products.

The second floor is dedicated to Felipe’s made-to-measure tailoring service.

Philippines for all of January to showcase his linework and creative takes on fades at Felipe and Sons, says, “Every barber has a different technique. I combine different styles and techniques that I’m inspired by.” Dado specializes in razor and clipper cuts, particularly in using a tool called the T-liner. Best for sharp fades seen on the likes of David Beckham and Michael B. Jordan, the T-liner gives the neck and sidebar “that extra crisp look.”

Dado notes that trends in men’s hairstyling come and go, but there are also others that have the potential to stick around for a long time: “There are many right now, but two of the hardest hitting trends that have given the industry a boost are the 4am fade

created by Scott Ramos and the highborn by Diego Elizarraras.”

LESLIE ESPINOSA, STYLIST Espinosa’s path to hairstyling began in performing arts school, where she trained to be a dancer.

“I found my way to the hair and makeup department because I wanted to be involved somehow, and that led to this journey,” she says. Eventually she moved to Hollywood, before making her way to New York working on and off Broadway. These days she is back in Manila as the resident stylist at Felipe and Sons. “My market eventually became those with curls,” she says. “The challenge is that each curl has a mind of its own, and you can do a technically correct haircut, but

with curls, you have a chance to sculpt and shape hair.”

Well-versed in various types of scissor work, Espinosa is meticulous about consultations prior to cutting hair, taking into consideration her client’s lifestyle, overall style, and use of hair products. The general consensus is that curly hair types are best maintained with scissors, as it allows the stylist to treat each curl individually. “Thinning shears should be used at the stylist’s discretion, because while it takes weight off curly hair, there’s a risk of making hair more frizzy,” she says. “Point cutting is another technique for curly hair. It’s in the details—in this sense, it can’t be done with clippers, you have to get in there with your hands to sculpt.”

Grooming

GOOD VIBES the glory of the sun calls for scents that lift you up.

PhotogRAPhS Dairy Darilag

With the rise of temperature comes an upward shift: to citrus and herb-y notes that offer relief in the day and complex florals or woods that set the stage for (maybe) lucky nights. That’s the magic of perfume.

While it allows you to smell good, it also makes you feel better. And those that are composed particularly well can event transport you to a specific moment. The kiss of a cool breeze on the beach. Running down a mountain trail. The sunset. It’s time to shut the door on the doldrums of months past. Here are the scents that can lead you in the right direction.

RefReshed Imagine walking through a hiking trail surrounded by evergreens or rolling on a bed covered in pine leaves and citrus peels. Now, imagine that in a bottle.

givenchy gentlemen only Casual Chic

eneRgized One pump delivers a blast of squeaky-clean freshness that later on develops into a smooth aromatic scent (lavender and orange blossom punched up by vetiver). Expect a lot of compliments.

Salvatore Ferragamo Acqua Essenziale Colonia (P4,750 for 100ml and P3,750 for 50ml)

ChaRismatiC Is it really surprising that the shoe company responsible for setting off a woman’s shapely legs would create a seductive scent such as this—for men?

Hondeydew melon, pineapple leaf, and suede make for a potion that turns heads. This is a crowd-pleaser.

Jimmy Choo Man

inspiRed It’s the smell of your hands after tearing up a bunch of green things, more specifically neroli and mate leaves. It is also apparently the smell of the Silk Road, which was the inspiration for the unusual fragrance. One more thing to like: This comes with a blessing of longevity and wealth.

Shanghai tang Mandarin tea (P5,850 for 100ml)

continued

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continued

Playful This will give you a toothache in a good way—like a plate of milk cake with fresh cream (coconut and vanilla bookend the scent) served on the beach. Enjoy.

Calvin Klein Eternity Now For Men

Pleasant If we consider The Scent as the spirit of Hugo Boss (that name is a lot to live up to), then you could say that Boss, together with its suits and ties plus this fragrance, is a dependable, everyday staple. Nothing wrong with that.

Boss The Scent (P5,950 for 100ml and P4,350 for 50ml)

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Irreverent At the core of Paul Smith is spontaneity, so naturally his fragrance blurs the line between sweet and spicy. This was built for cooler months, but who’s to say you can’t enjoy it now?

Paul Smith The Essential (P4,258 for 100ml and P3,038 for 50ml)

Bold The limited edition celebrates the number one rugby team in the world, the All Blacks of New Zealand. Which is a fitting tribute since the juice embodies a most virile man, someone who can strike down a tree with the single swing of his ax.

Bulgari Man All Blacks Limited Edition (P6,040 for 100ml)

february 2016

NOTES & ESSAYS FRANCIS JOSEPH A. CRUZ ON FILM CLINTON PALANCA ON FRIENDSHIPS KRISTINE FONACIER ON FORTY arTWOrK by edric gO images cOurTesy Of WesT gallery

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Notes & essays

I

Of MOvIes and MIdlIves: 2015 fIlMs wIth CharaCters In CrIsIs Cinema, our last bastion for hope, is intent on celebrating youth and depicting old age as a grave misfortune.

fraNcis joseph a. cruz “Pain is temporary, but a film is forever,” exclaimed Alejandro Iñarritu when he won a Golden Globe for directing The Revenant (2015). Of course, the Mexican director, famed for making films where rabid dogs fight each other and has-beens roam the cold streets of Manhattan in their undies, is referring to the extreme hardships he and his film’s reliable cast had to endure to come up with something that would visually and aurally represent the grave dangers of the wild. However, he is also referring to the quality of cinema to immortalize stories, to keep them caged within the few hours, to have its characters achieve a semblance of eternal youth. That was the illusion, at least, an illusion that is slowly being eradicated by the market’s curious desire for sequels and continuations.

The reality is we grow old. Our movie heroes remain young, strong, and bursting with the verve that got us hooked on them in the first place. The karate kid who taught us the value of persistence and discipline

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through household chores veiled as martial arts mantras remains to be the same prepubescent boy no matter how many pimples have come and gone. Spider-man will remain limber enough to jump from one building to another no matter how treacherous our limbs and knees are going to treat us as years go by. This is escapism.

As films serve as time capsules that dutifully remind us of yesterday, we become drugged with nostalgia, oblivious to the reality of our failing bodies as we are allowed for a few hours to indulge in childish fantasies.

On the other hand, to the cynic, the films that we enjoyed during the best years of our lives become potent reminders of everything we lost to the inevitable.

We however live in a world where realism is capital. Blockbusters are now laced with subtly shrouded truths. While Ryan Coogler’s Creed (2015) repeated the undeniable joys of a young sportsman’s journey to the top, it also exposed the inevitability of growing old and frail, even for someone like Rocky Balboa whose entire life is dedicated to athleticism. Even a film as overtly and reprehensibly repetitive as J.J. Abrams’ Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015) is forced to reveal Han Solo and his Princess Leia as artifacts of the past, all too ready to give way to younger heroes and heroines whose blossoming romance might have a better result than theirs. Sam Mendes’ Spectre (2015), the latest in the decades old series that center on the world’s most famous spy, has the debonair agent thinking twice about leaving his vocation for a life that better fits a man of his age.

In fact, we do not have to move too far from our shores. The Philippines’ highest grossing film is actually a somber sequel of a romance that got its imaginative fans wondering about a fictional future. Cathy Garcia-Molina’s A Second Chance (2015) sees two lovers whose only problem preventing them from forgiving each other is a ridiculous three-month rule as disgruntled partners, both in bed and business.

Belatedly reuniting after several torturous months of them spouting accusations and invectives in One More Chance (2007), Popoy and Basha, still played by John Lloyd Cruz and Bea Alonzo, tie the knot in a ceremony that is not unlike whatever we’ve seen before. Their married lives also turn out to be something that is not unlike whatever we’ve seen before, except that Popoy has riddled their relationship with machismo-related immaturity, which has Basha on the brink of giving up. In other words, growing up can be a bitch, as what we’ve come to witness with the country’s most relatable exes. Lovers we love to emulate turn out to be married couples we try our best to avoid becoming.

Let’s move a little bit further in the timeline, say a few more decades more,

Ernesto (2014)

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Nonong (2014) and Max (2014)

and what we have is the pitiful couple in the middle of Nuel Naval’s The Love Affair (2015). The film, which capitalizes on the reignited interest in the erstwhile love team of Richard Gomez and Dawn Zulueta, has the two seasoned movie stars play Vince and Trisha, whose invaluable marriage is threatened by the entry of a hopelessly romantic lady-lawyer who befriends and later on establishes the titular illicit affair with Vince. What is most intriguing about Naval’s film is how it reiterates the stereotypical impression of what the midlife crisis should look like. Trisha is the wife who is bored out of her wits, leading her to discover the pleasures of liberating

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herself from the clutches of an overbearing husband by putting up her own craftsreliant business; while Vince, a successful doctor, busies himself with parasailing and teasing young professionals with a life of gratifying abandon.

Unfortunately, The Love Affair is all lurid fluff. Its impressions of marital strife is ridden with the conveniences of lowbrow morality, the type that does not give characters any room for plausible personality because everything is dictated by obvious events that automatically dictate decisions. Everything that the film exposes about Vince and Trisha, who are both in the cusp of age-related frustration, is skin-

deep and far from novel. Middle-aged men are the likely targets by unimaginative filmmakers to commit sins against their marital vows simply because that is what is expected of men who are still capable of copulating, when their wives are more interested in advancing their careers or saving money for their children’s tuition fees. There’s Olivia Lamasan’s The Mistress (2012), where Ronaldo Valdez plays the wealthy benefactor of a lovely seamstress.

There’s Joel Lamangan’s Mister Mo, Lover Ko (1999), where Eddie Gutierrez is enamored by a gold-digging lass, played by Glydel Mercado. There’s also Lino Brocka’s Gumapang Ka sa Lusak (1990), where Eddie

Garcia’s influential mayor traps Dina Bonnevie’s character.

Now that we are on the topic of infidelity, there is one film about mistresses that exhausts most age groups in terms of insecurities and self-delegated duties. I am of course talking about Chito Roño’s Etiquette for Mistresses (2015), a film that finds its inspiration from Jullie YapDaza’s collection of funny anecdotes about mistresses. The film has two notable characters—Georgia Torres, played by Kris Aquino; and Chloe Zamora, played by Claudine Barretto. Let’s put this interest in just another mistress movie in some sort of perspective. Aquino and Barretto, first

and foremost, are actresses we have seen grow up on the silver screen. From being the spritely girlfriend of Rene Requiestas in Tony Cruz’ Pido Dida series (1990-1993), Aquino is now playing the mentor to Kim Chiu’s Ina del Prado, a young lady who has been spirited away from her native Cebu to be the kept partner of the husband of a promising politician. Barretto, who used to be the poster girl for true love with films like Rory B. Quintos’ Mangarap Ka (1995) and Olivia Lamasan’s Got 2 Believe (2002), is now taking on the role of a woman who worries that her aging body can no longer compare with other girls who are itching to take her place.

More than both the comic and dramatic expositions that the film has in droves, Etiquette for Mistresses explores how women, especially those whose parts of their lives are dependent on the men they choose to fall in love with, become subject to the tyranny of growing old. Actually, there is another character in the film whose unfortunate descent to inutility, at least as regards sexual value, is notable — that is Pilar Pilapil’s Eliza Castronuevo, the doting wife whose husband was quietly stolen by Barretto’s Chloe. In placing the depicted lives of the three women against each other, the film seems to say that as soon as these women’s bodies betray their purpose, they are led to either occupying a role that they did not originally expect or to completely surrender to the fact that their business with their men is complete. It is a sad proposition, one that owes largely to a culture that edifies men and gives women paltry excuses for simply living with what is provided for by fate.

Yes, growing old is a nasty bit of business.

Cinema, our last bastion of hope, is intent on celebrating youth and depicting old age as a grave misfortune. There are a few gems that fetishize the few pleasures of aging, sure, but the general consensus is that it is better to be young than to be middle-aged, and it is better to be middle-aged, than it is to be old. Rocky succumbs to sickness, keeping his sagging muscles hidden with thick layers of clothing. Popoy and Basha argue about 70-million peso loans, a far cry from the cute jealousies that used to intimidate them. As we can see from the unhealthy parade of mistress movies, men remain sexually insatiable even in their old age, forcing them to recruit other women to keep their desires at bay. Those women however have bodies with expiration dates, which urge them to either reinvent themselves or just accept the fact that they would have to share their partners out of sheer biology.

Thankfully, Kidlat Tahimik comes to the rescue. His final film, Balikbayan #1 Memories of Overdevelopment Redux III (2015), is staunchly about aging, and giving up, and

surprisingly, about celebrating it. The seed of the film is an unfinished business, a project about the story of Enrique, the first person to have circumnavigated the globe.

The project was shelved, with only a short film titled Memories of Overdevelopment which showcases clips from the planned film with Kidlat Tahimik narrating what is supposed to have happened if the film was actually shot, as evidence. Decades later and seemingly without any chance of completing the film as originally envisioned, Kidlat Tahimik closes the chapter with a programmed miracle. He uses whatever he has and films episodes from the present. The result is a film that juxtaposes himself, as an optimistic and promising artist who has an entire future to explore, and himself, now as an accomplished artist who has an entire past to present. It’s truly an exhilarating experience, one that restores, even for a short period of time, a hope that there can be happiness still even if our skin ends up wrinkled, our eyes give up on us, and all our memories fade.

Truly, film is forever, and pain is temporary. All it takes is for us to grow old gracefully when even the films that are supposed to provide us comfort have betrayed us for those who are next in line.

Oggs Cruz Is A FIlm CrItIC And lAwyer

II

On FrIendshIp

The best of friends are those who trade in memories of a common past as well as a joint present and a promise to hobble together into an arthritic future.

clinton palanca In the year 44 BC, Marcus Tullius Cicero wrote a portmanteau treatise on Friendship and Old Age. When the time comes, I will be able to address the topic of old age, but for the moment I can comfortably write about friendship and middle age, especially how middle age changes our friendships.

Cicero addressed the two topics separately in his conversation; but there is a reason why the two topics are bound together.

Friendships, like bones, grow more fragile as one grows older, when they are brittle as old china, just as friendships are elastic and pliant in one’s youth. In middle age they are somewhere in the middle, like a doughy pizza crust that has been left in the box overnight.

Forty is the great pivot point. It’s the year

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That Awkward Moment Between Birth and Death (2014)

when things that were cool during one’s 20s and reprehensible during one’s 30s becomes unacceptable. It’s the year when one can no longer convincingly pretend to be what one isn’t: more cultured or more educated or more sophisticated than one actually is. My copy of Marcel Proust in the original French is actually just decorative.

By the time one turns 40 one is convinced that the friends one has will be more or less the set of friends one will keep for the rest of one’s life.

This is not true, of course. No one has ever folded up their arms and proclaimed that they were no long open to making new friends, like a country declaring a quota on immigrants. But just as one’s likes and dislikes in food become more static (I will still give Gorgonzola, durian, and stinky tofu a chance once in a while, though it is unlikely my taste buds will suddenly reverse their verdict), we feel that no new friend will be able to match the comfortable companionship that we enjoy with the ones we have now.

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One reason is the sheer length of time for shared experiences. Friends from elementary and high school I will have known for 36 years; we remember who used to throw up their oatmeal during recess or who refused to share their pad paper during quiz time. These are unlikely to be the basis of firm friendships though, at least in my case. It’s the friends I made during my time at university that I consider to be the ones who know me best: depending on what year I met them in college, we’ll have known each other for about 20-odd years.

I’ve had friends who were straight when I met them, then turned bisexual, and then straight again. Some men I knew are now women. Today, if I were to meet someone that I really got along with, to equal 20 years’ worth of shared history we’d be in our 60s, and we could hang out at the taichi class.

We never make friends quite like the ones we make in our years at university and our first few years at work, not just because of the crazy things we did back then but

because it’s a time in our lives when friends mean everything to us. This is around the time we fight with our parents, move out of the house, take poetry courses rather than social sciences, wear black, smoke pot, and denounce God; and we are in search of family, community, church, creed. We need someone to listen to death metal or Alanis Morissette with or light scented candles and slash our wrists to Sarah McLachlan with. We need to crash on someone’s couch rather than creep back into our parents’ house at four in the morning.

More of these friendships than I am willing to admit were based on attraction. I speak on behalf of the club of the forever friendzoned, and every friend was a potential crush; while from the point of view of the other side, for every crush I was a potential friend. Now gnarled, saggy, amnesiac, the only people who see fortysomethings as the tight, fit, clever, attractive young things they were are the other fortysomethings for whom first impressions linger on, decades later.

Nothing sounds the death knell on friendships like the twin embrace of family and responsibility; the two generally come on the same train, though it is perfectly likely that one can come without the other, or alight at the same time but from different platforms.

It’s difficult to explain to people without children the tyrannical nature of life on a school schedule, and why we have to have dinner at six o’ clock. Who the hell eats at six o’ clock? I used to complain.

Now I know. And I know I’m very lucky, because I have friends without children, some of whom are my age, some of whom are a little younger, who might not totally understand the draconian and relentless schedule of parenthood but have the patience to humor me.

In a recent poll, people were asked what the greatest invention of mankind is. Some said, predictably, the wheel. Others said the knife or blade. But a surprising number of people said it was the Internet. As someone born before the Internet really existed, it’s exciting to think that we were among the first people to participate in something that changed human history as much (at least according to some people) as the wheel, the knife, or the discovery of fire.

By the Internet I actually mean Facebook, which has changed forever the nature of friendship. It’s perfectly natural to go to university, make friends, join a company, and make friends there, date and have flings, and then promise to keep in touch, and so on; but in the past the friends you made there would be then hidden from view, fading into the background until a reunion or unexpected death brings them back into your life. Facebook means that friends from all parts of my life get squished up against each other in weird ways. And why on earth is my grandmother a Facebook friend of my pot dealer?

There are friends who weather well and change with you, both hewn by circumstance and the passage of time, but who still fit together, jaggedly so perhaps but always yet a lock of mind and step. And there are friends who fall by the wayside, who go on different paths, and become people that we would if we met as strangers hate, but are bound together by memory and the pull of sentiment; a shared past but not a shared present. Some friends turn out to be traitors or absent in time of need, while others who hitherto remained in the corner of one’s eye come front and center and are stalwart in one’s darkest hour. The best of friends are those who trade in memories of a common past as well as a joint present and a promise to hobble together into an arthritic future.

The most unexpected of gifts must surely be the autumn friend, the one you didn’t know you needed. Not to be confused with

the nymphet who comes along to defrost a frozen soul, the May-September girl, the aging man’s folly; these are quite common.

Far more uncommon is making new friends when one feels one’s life is far too full, replete with tasks and to-dos, school runs and aging parents, but slot into life not as nagging chores but welcome reprieves: like the chocolate souffle that you didn’t know you wanted. At this age most of the “friends” we make are actually contacts: either people with whom a relationship is mutually beneficial, or are stepping-stones to a career goal or social aspiration. My daughter, who just turned six, only sees other children as friends or not friends, although among her friends there is a hierarchy, of course, of her best friend, whose slot is already taken, but the position of second-best friend is up for grabs.

Old people can be silly. They send their life savings to Nigerian bankers, they video chat for hours with the camera pointed at a spot on the wall behind them, they buy weird gadgets off the home shopping network. But in the other half of their life between 40 and old age they’ve learned to unlearn all the defenses we build up, making 40 such a lonely, paranoid, trepid age: they’ve learned to make friends the way that children do, without heed to whether they will be deleterious to social standing or useful for work down the line.

Trust is a luxury that children and the aged have in common, that is scarce in middle age, and the lack of which is the greatest impediment to new friendships.

Trust is not a commodity that middle age encourages. This is the time that we must protect our young against predators, and are entrusted with the care of our aged, unlike children who have everything to gain and the old who have nothing left to lose. It tests existing friendships and makes new ones fraught and limited to the functional. Even good conversation becomes just another commodity in the market of interpersonal exchange; gone are the “soul sisters” and “spiritual brothers” we deemed our friends when we were in our 20s, although those who had earned that moniker might still retain the title and a coveted place in our hearts, even if, of late, they sometimes disappoint. But membership to that club of closeness has been suspended.

What a bleak time for friendship is middle age, if we let this be true. The time when we reject new friends is a time when we need them the most. The time will soon come to write my own treatise on friendship and old age, when old friendships will be brittle and newly made ones, necessarily, ephemeral and temporary. What a shame it would be if the intervening years were bereft of fresh ones, or we let the intensity of those made in youth and the inertia of

their camaraderie occlude the possibility of the new.

Clinton PalanCa is a Writer and CritiC

III

In the MIddle

But perhaps that’s part of the reason for all this anxiety surrounding midlife— it’s that our expectations are set by our younger selves.

Kristine Fonacier 1. F*ck Forty The dread of the big four-oh set in just a few years after I passed the big three-oh.

I began counting down to 40 on my 34th birthday, mainly because I was so far away from home (I was literally in the jungle, in the deep rainforests of South America) and because the lovely Amerindian people who were our hosts decided to celebrate the foreigner’s birthday with a cake upon which they placed as many candles as they could find—which, surprisingly considering our remote location, was a lot of candles. If I could pinpoint a time when it dawned on me that I could no longer qualified as “young,” being in the middle of nowhere and blowing out the world’s best-lit birthday cake was it.

And so there began the terrifying countdown to midlife, which seemed like a second, and far less fun, adolescence, as my body began to undergo sudden and alarming changes that I didn’t understand. Like the growth spurts and body odor of our teens, the body likes to surprise you with overnight changes as you approach your 40s: you wake up one morning to notice that your temples are graying, that your gums have receded, that your face has begun to migrate towards the floor. Or at least you’d notice it if you hadn’t also become half-blind between bedtime and breakfast. (No one’s exempt: See, for example, Leonardo DiCaprio, who had kept the face and figure of his 12-yearold self for three decades, take on a midlife bloat these past couple of years.)

There are a couple of things you should know about the loss of your youth, an older friend had once cautioned me. The first thing is that you don’t feel any different inside, she said, which really sucks when you recognize the way that your brain is still happily hovering around age 27, but your body has kept marching militantly towards the future.

The second thing, she said, is how fast it all happens. You kind of think of age as something that creeps up stealthily and clumsily on you, like traditional zombies; when it’s more like the new-model rage zombies that appear one day on the far horizon and then bear down

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55

on you in a matter of minutes. It’s a tsunami, not a plague.

And, as in any natural disasters, there’s no time to pack up your things, no time to strategize. There is no time: no time to make an accounting of what’s important, no time to change, no time to do the things you didn’t do. As one of my peers realized one day: “You know, I’m never going to be an astronaut.” (Hell, we don’t even have time to become doctors.)

You had better like where you are now, because that’s what you’re stuck with, buddy.

2. In Defense of Contentment The initial panic passes.

Is that panic what they call the midlife crisis? When you get over it, you may realize that the banality of it all is perhaps the most difficult thing to take about the so-called crisis. Everything is survivable.

The classic midlife-crisis epiphany is that half your life has passed, and that you have more yesterdays than tomorrows (midlife is a great time for clichés); it’s the catalyst for all that panic. But that epiphany soon enough turns on its head.

I was thinking back over the mess that my life had been so far, counting the lost decades, the lost friends, the broken relationships; I was taking inventory of all the mistakes I’d made that had led me so far astray from the path I thought I was going to take. Where the hell had I ended up?

How could I have gotten so lost?

And then I looked around and thought: Thank god.

Life is the sum total of all your choices, and by the time you hit 40, you’ve made most of the big ones: career, marriage and children (or not), where to live, where to entrust your loyalties, who to be. Not all of these choices are painless or wise, which to a younger self may feel like failure. But perhaps that’s part of the reason for all this anxiety surrounding midlife—it’s that our expectations are set by our younger selves. We look into the future as naïve apprentice humans, and we have certain ideas about where we’re going to end up and how we’re going to get there. But, as creatures who only know pain as an abstract concept, we actively thought to avoid any real experience of pain.

“Time ticks by; we grow older. Before we know it, too much time has passed and we’ve missed the chance to have other people hurt us,” wrote Douglas Coupland, who remains my favorite Gen-X chronicler, 20 years after he popularized the term. “To a younger me this sounded like luck; to an older me this sounds like quite a tragedy.”

The singular kind of contentment that can only come from age is born partly out of being able to look back into a long and notparticularly-well-lived life; to think about how you’ve managed to create a glorious mess, and how you’ve survived it.

56 E S Q U I R E • f E b R U a R y 2 0 1 6

Hilda (2014)

I “reconnected” with an old friend whom I hadn’t seen since high school (and here I put the word in quotation marks not to be sly, but because I find it especially amusing that we talk about friendships in the same manner we address networks; it’s especially funny in this case because this friendship existed solely on Instagram), who, in a moment of vulnerability, confessed that she had fallen out of touch with all of us because she’d had a child early. Her life had been swallowed up by responsibility since then—by marriage, by the corporate career, by family, by all the mundane matters that take over our lives. How lucky I was, she said, comparing: I’d gotten to “do things,” like celebrate birthdays with the local tribes of the South American jungle.

One of the defining characteristics of Gen X is supposedly that we value having options more than we value the decisions themselves, which means that our generation may always view the grass as being especially greener wherever we’re

not. So, from where I stand, her life looks like something to envy. I see the children I didn’t have, the relationships I’d left, the safety nets I didn’t get to build. Why would you trade having all those things for a birthday with strangers, I asked? Especially strangers who like to overestimate your age and load your birthday cake with candles.

I think the time comes when you make peace with your choices and realize that most choices aren’t good or bad; they’re just choices. When you’re younger, pain comes as a surprise, and the choices that have led to it are deemed bad. When you’re older and have the worst behind you, nothing ever quite takes you by surprise again, and you’re less likely to judge, and more willing to accept the consequences of your life’s choices and the person it has made you.

Kristine Fonacier is the editor-in-chieF oF esquire PhiliPPines

BREW CODE

YOU ARE WHAT YOU DRINK, DOWN TO THE BOTTOM OF THE BOTTLE. WHICH OF SAN MIGUEL’S LIFESTYLE BREWS BEST REFLECTS YOUR TASTES AND SENSIBILITIES?

THE TASTEMAKER There is no greater power than influence—and this man has it in spades.

He’s imbued with an inexplicable charisma and an uncanny knack for foresight for trends and culture. He’s sharp, intelligent, and magnetic. He is a man of ideas, of concepts, of creativity—a connoissseur of everything. He’s your popular friend, who right now is across the bar, talking to a beautiful woman. He’s the guy with more followers on Instagram than anyone else you know personally—and yet who doesn’t seem to care about social media at all. He’s the tastemaker: an influencer, an opinion leader who always finishes his bottle of San Miguel Super Dry before discretely excusing himself from the party.

They say you can tell a lot about a man by his choice of drink. These days, it could pass as an element of a first impression.

Step into a bar and you’re more than likely to be greeted by any number of different drinks: beer, cocktails, shots, and whatever else kids get creative with these days. But there remains wisdom in the notion: the drink in your hand can, to an extent, reveal something of your character, define a part of who you are.

Is your palate partial to full, strong flavors? Perhaps it speaks to an assertive

nature about you. Do you opt for the exotic drinks that push the boundaries of flavor?

It could mean that you’re the adventurous type in more ways than one. Or do you prefer to indulge in sweeter, smoother drinks with a fruity after taste, as someone with a pleasant personality and a creative mind would? Every drink is different, just as every drinker is; and the brews and mixes are endless. Take some time to examine what you’re drinking, and you just might learn more about yourself and your friends than you would expect.

“EXAMINE WHAT YOU’RE DRINKING, AND YOU MIGHT LEARN MORE ABOUT YOURSELF THAN YOU WOULD EXPECT” A special drying process makes San Miguel Super Dry a brilliant light amber lager with strong, aromatic hop notes and flavors that give off a dry taste and an elegant, quick finish.

Its clean, crisp hoppy flavors instantly make this brew the absolute beer of choice for beer connoisseurs and those who simply want to sit back and relax after a fulfilling day.

THE VOYAGER

Cerveza Negra is a full-bodied dark lager with rich caramel tones made from roasted pilsen malt and other top quality ingredients.

The right balance of bitterness and sweetness, and a creamy, frothy head entice drinkers to bask in its unique flavors. This bold, dark brew brims with the sweet taste of roasted malt, and invites only those who are as bold and daring.

Ever in pursuit of more, of greater, and of further, this man is cursed with an insatiable lust for life. He is a man of the world; bold, more than anything, adventurous beyond reason. He is the voyager: the well-traveled explorer whose middle name is probably danger, if it isn’t fun. His exploits are borderline hedonistic; his tastes can err on the eccentric. He is the explorer that we all want to be, but whose life we aren’t ready to live.

The voyager is all about pushing boundaries and exploring uncharted territories. His choice of drink—of anything, really—is often unique and unconventional.

That’s why he chooses Cerveza Negra.

THE PURIST Don’t fix what isn’t broken. It isn’t a new addage, but it holds true for many things. No one knows this better than the Purist. He’s the kind of man who puts tradition, heritage, and originality on a pedestal. He is driven not by an aversion to the contemporary, but rather a resistance to mediocrity. His tastes are keen to distill everything down to its purest form, its original form—whether it’s his preference for vinyl over streaming, his distaste for quartz movements, or his penchant for selvedge denim. While he is certainly prone to sentiment and nostalgia, the Purist is always on vigilant watch for quality and true value. He finds that in Kirin Ichiban.

Kirin Ichiban is made from 100% malt and is brewed using the Ichiban shibori process—a unique method of brewing that uses only the most flavorful portion of the finest ingredients.

THE SHOT CALLER The view from the top is glorious, so you climb with indomitable passion. The world is yours for the taking; your life is yours to determine. You’re a born leader— not just of others, but of yourself—and lead you will. You call the shots.

Men with a taste for the finer things in life are shot callers by necessity. They are men who live by standards of themselves and of the world around them. Their penchant for luxury must be matched by decisiveness and uncompromising will; by success, and nothing less. Every extra hour spent hard at work, every leap of faith, and every sacrifice is, without a doubt, worth the reward.

They are the men who go on to become the executives of the world, the statesmen, the calculating achievers, the captains that pick a direction and steer. But for the weighty cross they bear, they are rewarded with wealth, with opulence, and most importantly, with accomplishment.

For the accomplished shot caller, a bottle of San Miguel Premium All Malt awaits at home after a hard day at work.

SAN MIGUEL LIFESTYLE BREWS ARE SAN MIGUEL’S FINEST BEERS, CRAFTED WITH THE FINEST INGREDIENTS AND BREWED IN SMALL BATCHES.

San Miguel Premium All Malt has a malty aroma and pleasant hop notes, which come from a harmonious blend of hops and carefully selected pilsen malt. The result is a smooth, full-flavored, slightly sweetish, golden, premium lager with balanced bitterness and an elegant after taste. This brew is truly meant for those who enjoy the finer things in life.

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How Not to Fun fact number one: Half of all men who die in this country this year will be killed by heart disease, stroke, or cancer.

Fun fact number two: Half of all doctors seem to have different ideas about how to prevent the biggest killers of men. We spoke to the best of them, and over the following pages, we simplify, clarify, and prioritize their advice on minimizing the risks of dying before your time. illustration by paul sahre

anD IntroDuCInG: the esquIre antI-Death panel Dr. Michael Roizen, chief wellness officer at the Cleveland Clinic and author of This Is Your Do-Over: The 7 Secrets to Losing Weight, Living Longer, and Getting a Second Chance at the Life You Want

Dr. Steven Kaplan, director of benign urologic disease at Mount sinai health system

Dr. Donald Hensrud, director of the healthy living program at the Mayo Clinic

Dr. Kimberly Gudzune, assistant professor of medicine at Johns hopkins school of Medicine

Dr. Mark Litwin, chair of the department of urology at the David Geffen school of Medicine at uCla

*or your money back, guaranteed! (Kidding.) february 2016 â&#x20AC;˘ eSQuIre

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tHe

Supplemented life There are the 65,000 vitamins and supplements that cost Americans billions of dollars every year, most of which science tells us we don’t really need. Then there are these eight pills, which, if taken every day, help combat the biggest killers of men. the kiLLerS

heart disease

stroke

Lung cancer

p r o s tat e c a n c e r

tHe multivitamin

CalCium and magnesium

Why: It’s been shown to reduce the risk of

Why: Optimize colon function. daily dose: One pill of each, for 600 mg of cal-

cancer in men over the age of 50. For men under 50, it enhances organ function and optimizes cell repair. daily dose: One pill, half with breakfast and half with dinner, to optimize absorption and maintain steady levels in your bloodstream. For maximum effect, an older-guy make like Centrum Silver has higher amounts of the most impactful vitamins and minerals.

coLon cancer

some Fiber Why: Lowers cholesterol and blood sugar, low-

cium and 400 of magnesium.

ers risk of heart disease. daily dose: Ten grams, however you get it.

prevents:

prevents:

W h at to Skip

prevents:

vitamin d 3 Why: Twenty to 50 percent of Americans have

baby aspirin Why: Thins the blood, prevents clotting, and protects against arterial disease and strokes.

Also decreases risk of six cancers, including colon and prostate. daily dose: Two tablets, at night, with warm water. There can be risks—aspirin can affect the body’s platelet function, making your bleeding time longer; it can also irritate your stomach— so as an alternative, consider lumbrokinase, an all-natural supplement that prevents clots without many of aspirin’s side effects. prevents:

62 E S Q U I R E • f E b R U a R y 2 0 1 6

suboptimal levels of vitamin D, with those deficiencies linked to increased overall mortality. daily dose: One pill that contains 1,000 IUs. prevents:

C o M M o nS e n S e L i f e S av e r More sex.

“The more orgasms a man has”—through either intercourse or masturbation—“the lower his risk of prostate cancer,” says Roizen.

Heavy-dose antioxidant supplements “Vitamin E in large doses may be associated with increased cardiovascular mortality,” says Hensrud. “Beta-carotene in large doses is tied to an increased risk of lung cancer. The trick is that foods that contain these antioxidants are beneficial, but not large-dose supplements.”

FisH-oil pills “New data on fish-oil and omega-3 supplements show they don’t give any substantial benefits” to health, says Hensrud. “To get omega-3 fatty acids and help protect against heart disease, add two servings a week of fish to your diet.

You can’t just pop a pill to get what you need.”

25/25/50: The Just-Enough Guide to Death-Defying Fitness “exeRCISe pROTeCTS AgAInST CARdIOvASCulAR dISeASe,” SAYS HenSRud. “IT HelpS lOWeR YOuR BlOOd pReSSuRe, WHICH IS RelATed TO STROke. And STudIeS HAve SHOWn peOple WHO exeRCISe HAve A lOWeR RATe Of COlOn CAnCeR.” HeRe’S THe BARe MInIMuM TO ReAp THe BenefITS.

25%

25%

Resistance training—anything from push-ups to free weights to bands. Twenty minutes, twice a week.

Cardio—ranging from sports (basketball, racket sports) to running, biking, etc. Twenty minutes, three times a week.

whAT To e AT

The AnTi-inflAmmATion DieT Eat less food, eat better food, eat like a caveman: There are all different kinds of ways to lose weight. This one is about preventing disease.

t h i s pa g e : i l l u s t r at i o n b y pa u l s a h r e ; o p p o s i t e : i l l u s t r at i o n s b y h o l ly e x l e y

F i r s t, a d e F i n i t i o n: “ inflammation is the result of your own immune system attacking

50% “Half of the health benefits from exercise come from doing any physical activity,” says Roizen. Walk 10,000 steps daily—8,000 doesn’t give as many good benefits, while 12,000 doesn’t give any more benefits.

Plus: Forty jumps a day, which can be jump rope or jumping jacks.

your tissues, usually in hopes of getting rid of a foreign invader,” explains roizen. “it diverts your immune system from dealing with serious invaders like cancer, and inflammation in your existing arterial plaque can lead to a stroke or heart attack.” inflammation is the enemy, and when you eat to prevent inflammation, you’re eating to restore your body’s natural diseasefighting mechanisms. an anti-inflammation diet is basically vegan—no milk, no eggs, no butter or cheese—except you’re allowed salmon, ocean trout, and a little chicken a few times a week. (red meat is especially prohibited because “it alters the bacteria in your body to produce inflammation,” says roizen.) it’s heavy on fruits and vegetables, as much and as often as you can, with bonus points for colorful ones (greens, reds, yellows) that are loaded with cancer-fighting antioxidants; a couple servings a day of whole grains like whole-wheat bread, brown rice, and oatmeal; and a handful of nuts, for an afternoon snack, since they decrease the risk of heart disease.

Eat Less, Live Longer. Maybe.

Y

ou’ve probably heard of the calorie-restriction diet: You eat at least 30 percent fewer calories than normal humans, about 1,750 instead of 2,500 for an adult male. If you keep yourself on the verge of starvation, CR devotees claim, you can extend your life span past 100 years, perhaps 120. (The theory is that the body switches into an emergency defensive state and slows your metabolism, producing fewer cell-damaging free radicals.)

A few years ago, I tried the CR diet for a book I was writing about health. I spent hours a week filling in spreadsheets with apple calories, weighing food, and watching friends eat. I was perpetually hangry, though CR fans say that you get used to it.

In fact, you start to love it. You feel energized. “I literally get high from it,” said one CR expert I visited.

So does CR work? Well, I’m still alive, so I guess that’s one data point. And there actually is some science to support it.

In a Cornell study back in 1934, researchers doubled the life spans of mice with extremely low-calorie diets. Similar studies have postponed death in worms and spiders. But in primates, the evidence is far from conclusive. Monkey studies have been contradictory. There have been promising studies in humans that show a reduction in diabetes and clogged arteries among practitioners. But so far, we lack rigorous long-term studies about extended life span.

The general idea is right. It’s probably good to eat less than we do now. American portions are embarrassingly big. But as for radical measures? I prefer to risk dying before a hundred and splurge on the sporadic curly cheese fry.

—A. J. JACOBS

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The Streamlined Checkup

5 2 4

1

Men in their 30s should go to the doctor for a physical three tiMes a decade; in their forties, four tiMes a decade; fifties, five tiMes a decade. these are the tests that need running.

3

recommended

daily allowances We know, we know: everything in moderation.

But how much of the below can we have without causing damage?

1

BuTTer

RDA: About one tablespoon (or an eighth of a stick) a day. Even though recent studies found no evidence linking butter to higher incidence of heart disease, most doctors still advise moderation.

2

eggS

Cholesterol

Why: heart attacks and strokes. you want to see your hdl over 50; anything lower could be a red flag. for both triglycerides and ldl, you want to keep things under 100.

When to check it: every five years.

Blood pressure

Why: heart attacks and strokes. Keep it around 115/75.

When to check it: every time.

Blood glucose

Why: diabetes, which is one of the major risk factors for heart disease.

When to check it: every

three years, starting when you’re 45.

Colonoscopy

Why: colon cancer.

When to do it: every 10 years, starting when you’re 50. (unless you have parent or sibling family history, in which case start at 40.) after an initial colonoscopy, you may be able to skip future ones and instead get a prescription for noninvasive cologuard every three years. “it’s an fda-approved coloncancer screening test where you collect your stool at home and it looks for dna changes and blood,” says hensrud.

PSA (prostate-specific antigen) and DRE (digital rectal exam)

Why: “prostate cancer is the most common cancer in men in the u. s,” says litwin, and anything above four on your psa might be cause for concern. about that might: psa tests are increasingly considered unreliable because of their rates of false positives and negatives. however, they remain the best and most widely

RDA: About one a day (but no more than six a week).

Also: Poached and boiled eggs are better for you than scrambled and fried.

3

Marijuana

RDA: One joint a day; studies show anything more could lead to respiratory problems.

4

red MeaT

RDA: You shouldn’t be eating red meat every day; instead, limit yourself to 18 ounces of lean, unprocessed red meat a week. (Processed meats like sausage, bacon, and salami have been linked to all kinds of ailments and should be avoided.)

5

C o m m o nS E n S E L i f E S Av E R Chill the f*ck out.

“Unmanaged stress increases your risk of heart disease, stroke, all cancers, and type-two diabetes,” says Roizen. Ten minutes of meditation every day via apps like Headspace and Calm; acupuncture; sex. Anything that clears your head and takes the edge off will help lower your blood pressure and reduce inflammation.

Coffee

RDA: Five 8-ounce cups of filtered coffee a day. (That’s filtered. Unfiltered coffees like espresso are oilier and have been associated with raising cholesterol.)

The Thing We All Worry About But Probably Won’t Die From

T

he brain aneurysm has a reputation as lethal, stealthy, and ubiquitous, and yet it is not really any of those things. only 30,000 americans each year have a brain aneurysm rupture (compare that with 735,000 heart attacks each year), and 35 percent of them survive it beyond six months. “a brain aneurysm is caused by an abnormality in a blood vessel that someone may have had since birth,” says gudzune. and since doctors can’t really prevent them from originating, they can only diagnose and treat them. if you have a connective-tissue disorder, circulatory problems, or a history of head trauma, talk to your doctor about whether you should be screened. otherwise, worry not.

64 e s Q u i r e • f e B r u a r y 2 0 1 6

accessible method for early cancer detection, so until a replacement is available to the masses, the psa (and the good old-fashioned finger exam) it is.

When to do them: every five years, starting at 50. (unless you have parent or sibling family history, in which case start at 40.)

W h At to SKiP

EKG

“an eKg is a very, very poor screening test for heart disease,” says hensrud. instead, you could ask your doctor for a stress test, which involves intense exercise under supervision. But according to hensrud, “it’s only recommended if someone is starting an exercise program and has a lot of risk factors for heart disease: overweight, in his fifties or sixties, with high cholesterol and high blood pressure.”

At-home genetic testing

it seems like a pretty great tool: spit in a tube, send it away to a lab, and in four to six weeks you’ll know what potential diseases lurk in your genetic makeup. however, genes are only half the picture, if that. “right now there’s not a great genetic test out there to tell someone their risk for these top killers,” says amber volk, a certified genetic counselor in Minneapolis. “the direct-to-consumer genetic tests say what your genetic factors are, and we can further predict if someone has an increased or decreased risk for a certain health problem. But there is no genetic testing that will tell you a yes or no answer about whether you will get a disease or not, since lifestyle factors like diet and exercise can also play a role.”

THE SOPHISTICATED MANâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S HANDBOOK TO MATTERS OF SOCIETY, STYLE & CULTURE.

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the Case FOr

FaDInG

66 e S Q u I r e â&#x20AC;¢ f e b r u a r y 2 0 1 6

Aren’t rock stArs supposed to live fAst And burn out spectAculArly? these guys did not get the memo.

By kristine fonacier photographs By sonny thakur

It wa sn ’ t

j ust t h e

music .

I t wa s n e v e r j u s t t h e m u s I C .

away

Well, it was partly about the music: the songs spoke to our collective hopes and our secret fears; they played in the background to the most significant moments of our lives. What we listened to also taught us how to behave, how to dress, how to move, what to believe. Our music places us in time and marks us as part of a generation—we think of “our” music, made by “our” bands, even if rock might touch on the same larger themes of subversion and rebellion throughout the years.

And so it was always as much about the musician as it was about the music. They were the gods of the stage who represented our aspirations about ourselves even as they embodied our overweening id. Confident, brash, sexy, cool, they were all that we hoped we could be, all that we knew we weren’t capable of becoming. We watched Karl Roy, all thinness and tattoos, strut across a crowded stage and hold a crowd entranced. We smelled of the smoke of furtively lit cigarettes when we came home from the bars where we watched Wolfgang and Razorback hold giggling college girls and rebellious young men equally in thrall. We cheered on the Eraserheads as the impossibly talented boys-next-door as they became celebrities without having to change out of their T-shirts.

It wasn’t just that they were making the music that played during our youth; it isn’t even that the music defined our youth. It’s that they were our youth. Musicians have always stood as avatars for our youthful selves, and so we count on our rock stars to stay young, to keep on being our lifeline to youthfulness. february 2016 • eSQuIre

67

Th e in ev iTa ble

h a p p e n s

a n d e v e ry b ody, e v e n ou r ic ons ,

grow u p a n d

grow ol der .

(What does that mean for the rest of us?) Bowie died still cool and still making music, but he was one of the lucky ones. The classic rock-star trajectory always just seemed to end in flaming out early (Cobain) or aging ungracefully (Axl Rose).

But somewhere along the way, a third option: even as each of its members got haircuts, Pearl Jam became the elder statesmen of rock. Anthony Kiedis allowed himself to be photographed horsing around with his children, and it was good. The singular contentment that comes from being able to look back at a long career suits rock stars, it turns out. Having families, settling down, finding day jobs: Sometimes it’s good for music. It’s certainly good for some musicians.

This is where we found them, in the peaceful plateau of midlife. Marriage and children are a recurring theme; the coincident downturn of the music industry after the early 2000s might have also forced their hand, as even rock stars found that there was no shame in a sensible day job.

It may not sounded so rock n’ roll of them to settle down, but being grounded has turned out to be surprisingly liberating. “When you don’t depend on the music to make a living, you’re free to do what you want,” says Tirso Ripoll with a small laugh.

As it happens, with age comes settling down, coming to terms with demons, making peace with oneself, finding compromise and balance: Sometimes getting older isn’t such a bad thing.

68 E S Q U I R E • f E b R U a R y 2 0 1 6

Tirso ripoll, guItarISt for razorback and general manager for tabaQuerIa de PIlIPInaS, Inc.; the band IS In the ProceSS of releaSIng an acouStIc album to mark theIr 25 th annIverSary

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Manuel legarda, guItarISt for Wolfgang and razorback, compoSer, Sound engIneer, and co-founder of loudbox StudIoS; Kevin roy, vocalISt for razorback, gap, and the currently InactIve loQuy; currently playIng regularly In clubS In metro manIla

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february 2016 â&#x20AC;¢ eSQuIre

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[oppoSIte page] Zach Lucero, guItarISt for Imago, drummer for humanfolk, programmIng dIrector of radIo republIc. Jett Pangan, vocalISt for the dawn, Stage and televISIon actor, hoSt of myxlIve (photographed wIth hIS daughter, erIka)

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P l a i n A n g e l Sarge Lacuesta talks to Angel Aquino about growing up ugly, aging fearlessly, and her favorite four-letter word.

PhotograPhs by josePh Pascual

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february 2016 â&#x20AC;¢ ESQUIRE

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a

At seventeen, Angel Aquino was discovered by a production designer while she was loitering at an out-of-the-way mall. “No one goes there,” she said. “You’ve never heard of it.” She tells me the name of the mall and I pretend to have heard of it, and that the story of her discovery is unique.

She tells me that she grew up an ugly girl, a plain Jane. “I was the dark-skinned one. I had unruly hair. Bata pa lang ako, I was always told—you’re not that pretty.” The ugly duckling-turned-swan—it’s not an uncommon backstory, either. And neither is the label so often lazily attached to her, along with the kind of posed headshot models like her were famous for in the ’90s. Model-turned-actress: the epithet invoking some form of split, of struggle, external and internal, from one end of the crazy celebrity-slash-society spectrum to another.

Today she is at both ends. In the morning she was at a Shengen visa interview at the German Embassy in preparation for an upcoming trip to represent Ang Hele sa Hiwagang Hapis, her latest film, which screens in competition at the Berlinale. And then, while waiting for our appointment, she killed time at her favorite hairdresser, coming out of it looking remarkably untouched, and untouchable, so that the mothers and matrons at the mall can’t help but look at her—hair achingly perfect, cheekbones improbably high, cheeks flush with impossibly youthful metabolism.

She remembers her first film, Butch Perez’s Mumbaki. “The first time Butch Perez spoke to me about it, I was pregnant with my second child.” When they started filming, Thea was almost a year old already. “It was a small role but it was also close to my heart because it was in the mountains. I was so scared that I would be sent home—they’d find out I couldn’t act.”

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At that time, she was living in Baguio with her husband and two children. She had gotten married while attending college, the consequence of a teenage pregnancy. The marriage ended 10 years later. She singlehandedly brought up two daughters with modeling money and showbiz money.

“I never make long-term plans,” she says—it’s a de rigeur statement in these parts and just as well—but she has dreams: one of them is to live in Europe, to go to market on a bike, in a summer dress. Perhaps this is a connection to her youth, and at the same time an escape from it—when she was young she tagged along to Farmer’s Market every Sunday with her father, where he would pick the ingredients for the weekend family meal. “He would choose the chickens with eggs inside them—pregnant chickens!”

Both are ordinary instances, to be sure, but look at her: picture this particular woman pedalling hard in a dress, imagine the threateningly beautiful gamine in the kitchen, degutting an animal.

She is 42 now, and perches comfortably in the middle of effortless and composed, accomplished and promising. She looks easily 20 years younger, but wears a grownup luxury watch on her wrist; she’s won serious awards for her acting, but won’t say no to non-studio films.

By now she’s unguarded enough to confide a particularly hair-raising personal tragedy. She gives gravid details—“parang comics, na horror story, na parang pelikula!”—and attempts to give the episode some perspective, as though she’d been watching a teleserye herself, with its own kontrabida, and is thankful for the time that has passed that now allows her to make light of it.

There’s no trace of darkness in her humor, no remorse coming from her end of the table. She is 42, after all. What comes is the

St y l I n g r i a c a s c o H a I r c at s d e l r o s a r i o m a k e u p a p p l e fa r ao n S H ot o n lo c at I o n at a r t e d e a z i lo n

jumpsuit, miss selfridge ; headscarf, st ylist’s own

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oversized knit sweater, H&M

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a

bra , Marks & spencer; leatHer skirt, topsHop; patent sandals, cHarles & keitH

kind of authenticity and fullness of manner that comes with having everything a real person should have by a certain age: celebrated accomplishments, tantalizing secrets, brief dark episodes, and a sense of humor: “If I didn’t have to go through all that, ang baduy naman!”

Do you feel like you’re in midlife?

“I’m starting to feel it,” she answers, after some thought. She laments the self-consciousness and the necessary vanity. She confesses stretch marks and unsightly breasts.

The candor, of course, is part of the entitlement that comes with her age. “Of course it gives you a sense of authority,” she admits.

“Now everyone is younger than me.”

But Angel was always more comfortable being with someone younger. “I’ve never been with an older person. For some reason I feel they’re going to control me.”

She adds: “I’m not with anyone now. I enjoy hanging out more than going out on a date,” she says. She’s unattached again, and the idea of going to Europe thrills her.

“Maybe I’ll meet a man,” she says, half-jokingly. “Or a woman!”

That excitement, borne on a midlife recklessness, is genuine, but she’s never really hooked up with anyone the way younger people do today. At most, a kiss: “Kissing! It’s something I can recklessly give away!”

The disclaimer quickly follows, unnecessary but emphatic: “—to people I want to give it to.”

It’s part of this age, too, the embrace of one’s own authority and the rejection of it in others, the give-and-take-back, the open secret kept secret.

“I enjoy being a woman. I enjoy my body. You know what word I find great? Cunt.”

I keep my silence, but the word spells itself out in my head.

“Isn’t it?” she exclaims. “It’s strong, bold, unapologetic!”

She claps a hand on her mouth—maybe too much has been said.

There’s playful remorse now, and embarrassment, which she also attaches to certain memories: filching money from her father’s wallet when she was a child, buying porn at one of her modeling trips to Tokyo—“it was anime—at least dito walang na-e-exploit!”

Embarrassed over being embarrassed, remorseful over the most unremarkable things—a generational quirk, I offer. She offers to pay the bill. Time’s up—there’s still the rest of the living day, and we’re almost past the middle of it. She’s neither model nor actress now, just another mother picking up a daughter at school, the head of a household, the family decision-maker, the common homemaker. Just don’t look at her. february 2016 • eSQuIre

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in dub we trust How a split-screen love story aroused a nation, broke global social media records, and beat Manny Pacquiao’s TV ratings— here’s our attempt at a cogent explanation of the indelible force that is AlDub.

by kara ortiga PhotograPhs by francisco guerrero 80 e S Q u I r e • f e b r u a r y 2 0 1 6

St yling for maine by liz uy and danae diPon of st ylized studio (on maine ) top by balenciaga , trouSerS by reiSS, ShoeS by alexander wang

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(on maine ) dress by patt y ang, jewelry from denovo

I

t’s a balmy January noon when a bouncer leads me through the Eat Bulaga studio in Broadway Centrum, pulling a chair out for me in the front row next to five matrons pouting in their best shades of ruby lipstick, a chatty 23-year-old with her sister, and a group of girls from an AlDub (Bicol Chapter) fan club. “Anak ni Vic Sotto,” the bouncer jokes to the ladies, some of whom were in line since 6 a.m. to get in, so I can understand why no one seems overtly amused. The show begins with a spectacle of lights, blaring music, and gymnastics; dancers in midriffs and short skirts with their partner mestizo pretty boys coerce us to dance.

“Kung andito ka, kailangan energy talaga,” screams the jumping, enthused girl, beside

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me. Fans frantically wave their AlDub tarpaulins, hoping the cameraman decides to pan left. And when Alden Richards hops onstage in all his perfect snowy white complexion and deep-dimpled (not pimpled) glory, he is hailed like a demigod.

When Maine Mendoza arrives at our shoot, she is three hours late, scurrying in with her entourage of about half a dozen people, and thereafter shuffling quickly to the dressing room to get made up by her choice glam team. “We’re sorry we’re late,” says Maine’s handler. “Do you have a vodka Sprite?” asks Maine’s floor director when I offer a drink. “She’s a little uncomfortable in the dress,” says Maine’s stylist. I’m given

ample time to talk to everyone associated with Maine, except Maine herself. And when she finally steps out to the studio floor where we hurriedly beckon her because time’s a-tickin’, she hardly says anything at all. Her smile cannot hide exhaustion, and her face shows the most signs of it—eyes droopy, skin sagging in some places, the result of the wear and tear from early call times, overdone makeup, and late night wrap-ups.

The phenomenon blindsided us all.

Before all this, Maine was a 20-year-old waiting for a spot as a flight attendant to open up. In her downtime, she noodled around with Dubsmash, an app that allows

st yling for jose , wally and paolo by anton miranda aSSIStEd by dominique dy and johana que (on jose and paolo) suit by ring jacket, shirt by avino, necktie by tie your tie , pocket square by simonot-goddard, shoes by carmina shoemaker ; (on wally) suit by tiño, shirt by dolce & gabbana , necktie by drake’s at signet, pocket square by simonot-goddard, shoes by carmina shoemaker

users to record themselves lip-syncing to popular soundbites: she could do an uncanny impersonation of Kris Aquino, it turned out. So much so that her Dubsmash compilations garnered a million views within 24 hours.

It was viral, sure, but not unusual. The realm of viral videos nowadays is vast: cats scared shitless by cucumbers, talented commoners belting karaoke songs at the mall. Lots of other people made the social media rounds with their own Kris Aquino Dubsmashes. But it was obvious that there was a stunning quality to Maine Mendoza’s understated beauty; there was an undeniable star quality to the girl.

When Eat Bulaga thought of tapping her to be on the show, senior vice president

for creatives and operations, Jenny Ferre, discovered one glitch—Maine could lip-sync, all right—but that was about all she could do. In a YES! Magazine article published last October, Jenny recalls their interview: JENNY: Do you dance?

MAINE: Hindi po.

JENNY: Do you sing?

MAINE: Hindi po.

JENNY: Ano yung ginagawa mo?

MAINE: Dubsmash.

But Eat Bulaga only needed a bit player anyway, a fresh element to play off the veteran comedians Jose Manalo, Wally Bayona, and Paolo Ballesteros, who had fEbRUaRy 2016 • ESQUIRE

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top by balenciaga , trousers by sinequanone , shoes by alexander wang

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already aced the “Sugod Bahay” segment of the show, so the execs decided to create Yaya Dub: a non-speaking, lip-syncing nanny. On July 4, Maine gets her on-air debut on national television in the country’s longestrunning noontime variety show.

Twelve days later, the directors decide to ride on a tip that Maine has a real-life crush on Alden Richards, a C-list actor who was still awaiting his break. They invite Alden to the studio, and when the opportunity arises, the cameras linger on the two: camera one on Alden at the studio, camera two on Maine on location in a barangay.

We see them side-by-side for the first time on split screen: Alden feigning amorous intentions for a girl he doesn’t know, and Maine breaking out of character when she sees him watching her. The studio host, comedian Allan K, picks up on the nonverbal cues. “Hala! Si yaya naco-conscious kay Alden,” he exclaims. “Hala, yaya, nagpapacute ka,” he repeats, amused. Joey de Leon notices for the first time, “si yaya maganda…maganda eh, ’no?” And then just like that, the audience catches on. It is this kind of powerful suggestion that would shake the showbiz industry for the next few months.

The accidental chemistry snowballs into an all-out storyline on “Kalyeserye,” a soap opera parody within the show; it is a split-screen love story of almost-but-neverreally-meeting, leaving mommies watching

at home in titillating suspense. People on social media started talking, united under the #aldub hashtag. And suddenly, everyone was watching: shrieking teenagers, tired yuppies, faraway OFWs, policemen in the Makati Precinct, my 50-year-old father. As the narrative grew, so did its ratings.

“have you ever heard of a love team who could dictate the storyboards of advertisers?”

In the episode where the two come face-to-face in the studio, Eat Bulaga’s Mega Manila TV ratings would surge from 20 percent to 39.5 percent, according

to AGB Nielsen. When Alden and Yaya Dub had their first date, it grew to 43.1 percent. When Alden visited Yaya Dub in the mansion of Lola Nidora, the ratings rose to 45.7 percent—surpassing the number of viewers who sat down to watch Pacquiao’s fight against Floyd Mayweather.

People talked about the show even when it wasn’t on TV, and executives wrought to make sure the suspense was sustained off-screen too. Production meetings were logistically planned so that the two would never bump into each other.

And when brands maniacally jumped on the bandwagon and realigned all their campaigns to tailor-suit the love team, advertisements had to duly cater to the rules of the network. Yaya Dub limited her endorsers—she never had any speaking lines, and if they wanted to cast the love team, they weren’t shot together. As Anna Mangipol of YES! Magazine points out, think about it: have you ever heard of a love team who could dictate the storyboards of advertisers? They had grown to such influential heights that competing networks only allowed “approved” edits of AlDub-endorsed commercials, so that the commercials didn’t, well, promote too much AlDub on their networks (apparently, this is allowed, according to the rival TV company’s guidelines written in 2008).

And then time was finally ripe for the two to have their moment. The tryst was staged february 2016 • eSQuIre

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she’s the most wanted girl in the philippines, the lonesome antithesis to the formulaic it-girl. in a massive event called Tamang Panahon, which filled the Philippine Arena with 55,000 paying audiences, and aired live on TV via a three-hour nonstop telecast—no commercial breaks. Even Manny Pacquiao couldn’t offer such a thing to us without pay-per-view. Tamang Panahon would break Twitter world records by reaping 41 million tweets, beating the 2014 World Cup buzz of Brazil versus Germany, and it would earn the highest Mega Manila TV rating for 2015 with 50.80 percent, trampling Pacquiao’s highest-viewed match (versus Timothy Bradley), and earn 10 times more viewers than their competitor, It’s Showtime, which clocked in a mere 5.4 percent. It was the climax to their love story, and that of Maine’s as well.

On this day, the nameless, voiceless girl was finally allowed to speak.

Her first word was: “Alden…” But this was all it took to fill the arena with shrieking, tearful, hands-over-mouthswith-disbelief hysteria. The air filled with unexplained adulation. On stage, even the characters themselves couldn’t escape the overwhelming cult-like nature of it all: Wally Bayona would get sentimental.

Alden would cry. And Maine stammered in disbelief and gratitude. This event 86 E S Q U I R E • f E b R U a R y 2 0 1 6

earned 14 million pesos, all of it donated to humanitarian projects.

To date, AlDub’s combined number of commercial endorsements include 17 brands (and counting). Their faces dominate newsstands. The cast has been honored by a number of awarding bodies— including the first Catholic Social Media Awards, for “imparting Filipino values and chastity” (what?). The late Kuya Germs has had their names embellished in the local version of the Hollywood Stars Walk of Fame.

Their fan base, comprising around 30 to 40 unofficial but active fan clubs online, each amassing up to half a million followers from all over the world, would take it upon themselves to unify as a fandom, organize intro groups, and explicitly make sure that AlDub is always trending on Twitter (AlDub’s social media success isn’t a phenomenon completely masterminded by marketing groups, it turns out).

As with everything so big, we’re left to imagine its true scope, picking out its shadowy outlines from rumors. Is it true that magazine offices were forced to open their doors to fans clamoring to buy copies that were sold out on newsstands? How about this story that employees from a rival TV station are absolutely prohibited from even whispering the name “AlDub,” never mind tweeting it (a fireable offense)?

It is a phenomenon largely because it is peerless. The show is distinctive: a semifictional love story that unfolded on live

television through a noontime variety show that was grounded on good ol’ Filipino values. For a culture of viewers obsessed with showbiz love teams, the verisimilitude of AlDub deserved a standing ovation.

At a time when media is filled with Sex Bomb dancers, twerking, and nudies being leaked, the show’s didactic morals struck a chord with traditional sensibilities. AlDub had hit jackpot.

When we position Maine for the last layout, our photographer, Paco, asks her to strike a pose. In her five-inch heels, after a full day’s work, that’s not easy. In between flashes, I catch her wobbling. A stylist steps in to fix the creases on her clothes, and she holds on to his arms lightly, steadying herself to keep from being caught off-balance. I search for the spark in her eyes, but can’t find it, and I’m actually afraid she might just faint on the set (which actually happened on live TV during one Eat Bulaga episode). At the moment, she’s the most wanted girl in the Philippines, the lonesome antithesis to the formulaic It-Girl. It’s sad that our only encounter is a short e-mail exchange: ESQUIRE: What are the most surprising things that you’ve learned about this industry?

MAINE MENDOZA: That it’s not as easy as it seems. I used to think that show business was one of the simplest jobs one

hair for maine by celeste tuviera makeup for maine by juan sarte GroominG for jose , wally, and paolo by muriel vega perez

could have. But now I realized how much hard work every production requires.

ESQ: What brings you most fear?

MM: Fear of not being good enough. The struggle is real in trying your hardest to do your best in what you do, and yet you get this feeling like something is holding you back. I know there is and will always be room for improvement. Talk about the drawbacks of an introvert.

ESQ: How do you stay sane when you seem to have a packed schedule?

MM: I am also a normal human being, just like everyone else, I get physically tired when there’s too much work. But the thing is, I love what I do; and that’s the main reason why I am able to keep my sanity

despite my packed schedule. If you love what you do, you wouldn’t feel jaded after all. I am just lucky, rather, blessed to do what I love.

ESQ: What would you like to know about men?

MM: Kinikilig din ba sila? Kung oo, paano sila kiligin? And how do they know that they are already in love?

Maine is continuously shaped to become the celebrity that everyone wants her to be.

In moments when no one else is looking, I will catch her quietly sigh. But in true showbiz fashion, as soon as the cameras start rolling, she beams almost immediately.

What a trooper.

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by A n g e lo R . l Ac u e s tA A R t by M i c A e l A b e n e d i c to

M y father lov ed to tell Me of how he couldn’t help it a nd felt this Mighty unstoppa ble crush on this gir l w hen he saw the pa le pink backs of her legs as she wa lk ed past hiM as he paused, stuMped by a question in one of his big ex a Ms in gr a duate school .

He never did finish graduate school, he loved to tell me, or anyone he knew, but he did finish that exam, and he was glad he was there on that day that girl proctored the exam in a miniskirt. He had no memory about the clothes she wore but he remembered to tell me, many times, of how she had left her pumps under the teacher’s desk, one red and upright on its sharp heel, the other fallen so that it showed a pale, unblemished sole. She had slipped them off her feet with no effort at all, dropped the papers and things on the desk and draped her cumbersome jacket—too large across her shoulders anyway, and they all recognized it as their professor’s—across that same professor’s chair.

But still, it made no one in their class want to be a teacher, even if their teachers were mostly all PhDs and many of them were great big thinkers and compelling talkers. Everyone knew they were poor, from the threadbare clothes they wore too often and their cheap Japanese watches and their shoes, all worn and shapeless and designed to soundlessly shuffle as they lectured their hours away.

That was how my father had felt, poor as a teacher, on his first Christmas in his boarding house in Manila, with only a handful of things to his name and a fried half-chicken and a plate of pancit canton from the café downstairs for Noche Buena. He had saved enough for three good meals on the next day, Christmas Day, and enough for a short phone call to his mother.

My father is fifteen years in his grave now, resting and rotting in a coffin that took so long for us to choose because we knew he didn’t want angels or the last supper, or any of those molded eternal figures on it. But our mother did, and that was the cause of some trouble, until we found out that the plain copper-colored one my sister and I had chosen was more expensive than the one with the two hosts of amateurly sculpted expressionless angels—mirror images, in fact— praying for him. It was like you had to pay people to leave things the hell alone.

Ugly wildflowers have overrun his lonely gravesite. Lonely because his starry black stone lies quite a distance from the older graves that look like they’ve formed own little apartment rows and subdivisions. But mostly because we hardly have the time to visit, and no one has formed a concrete idea about paying one of those wandering caretakers to keep the grass cut low and the weeds and those ugly flowers at bay. Besides, we’re too busy doing the things that the living do. My mother retreated to the province with my sister and decided they would make something of themselves there.

And anyway I left a nice pen in there and we bought him a new pair of shoes he would never wear. And there was some ballet trophy from my sister and my college diploma, all those things we wanted him to have, you know. But I can’t really admit to myself how reluctant I was

to put all that stuff in there, knowing I would never see it again. At the burial someone tried to comfort me with the idea that it would all probably be there longer than he would.

Over the last All Saints’ and Souls’ weekend we were all somewhere else again, somewhere else but there, and we all probably separately shuddered and thought that nobody again, for another year, had bothered to clean out the flowers and the weeds. Or for that matter— and for another interesting fact—repaired the letters on his marker.

Someone had stolen the first letter of his last name—and so every one of our last names, come to think of it—so that he became, at his most permanent place on earth, “Ariston L. etrero.”

So it still works, and it’s a bit funny. What’s funnier is I don’t know how someone could have needed that letter L so badly. So his name, or more appropriately, this name, this chop-chop version of it, remains, and strangely enough remains true to the flesh that lies beneath, validated by our highly infrequent, often meandering visits, through the confusing layout of roads and “gardens of tranquility” spread across the vast memorial park, to his grave.

There is something that my mother calls “benign neglect,” proudly, and again and again, to describe a kind of situation, as though she herself had come up with the term, and had first thought up of such an elegant measure, or, as it were, half-measure, instead of the quasi-political policy it really was, as it was taught in my classes in history and economics. It became sort of our domestic policy. Dust gathered. Fruit was allowed to turn overripe. Pets died from parasitic infestations, only to be quickly replaced by new dogs and cats coming in from the street attracted by the smell of uneaten scraps of food.

There was also that yellow pickup in the garage that none of us could remember moving an inch since the day my father bought it third-hand and parked it in its parking spot, vowing one day to drive it—adding the terrifying promise that we would be stowed in the rear—all the way from Luzon to Mindanao, thereby transforming our archipelago into a single seamless landmass through the employment of chartered ferries and the network of underutilized bridges accumulated throughout the just-ended Marcos regime.

That thing had stayed parked there so long that we did not even feel the relief over my father having forgotten the mission. Plus, we heard that many of the bridges had gone into disrepair. My father had finally been prevailed upon to let go of the thing, and he came home one day with an old friend who had a thing about old trucks and who had apparently purchased ours that evening—for a song, we all realized, because when he boarded it and tried to start it, the engine turned over with little coaxing and revved with startling briskness, and the next thing we knew we were watching the yellow thing drive off with its new master, toward points unknown.

They were hard times, as you can imagine, even with my father around. Everyone knows the story about how he’d given up a promising corporate career for a suicide mission writing movie scripts. With only one battered means of transportation left in the garage and little hope of any financial windfall, there really was only one thing left to happen, and that was his death, from his first and only stroke, in the summer of 1992.

We were too old to ride a pickup but too young to know exactly what a stroke really was. After we buried him we took my mother back to the province, the old hometown, and my sister and I gave the old gate and the old yard that we’d only really ever seen once or twice a kind of wary look as we ushered her into her folks’ home, kind of holding her up by both arms and walking her slow. Not her folks’ home anymore really—cousins and other old-timers now lived there. Someone had actually thought to take photos of my dead father in his coffin at the funeral and passed them around, and all of them acted like they recognized or even knew him in some way, this poor man with his head on the pillow, who took my mother away

from the town, who returned her many years later, looking spiffy and citified in her black dress and her new shoes.

Superstitious relatives helpfully supplied stories of graver deaths. There was one of our grand-uncles suddenly expiring upon bottoming-up a refreshing glass of water right after a thirty-minute bicycle ride in the heat of noon. Another uncle—what was it about uncles, anyway?—was pinned to death as he was trying to replace the flat tire on his delivery truck. There were more unfortunate ones, and by the end of the visit we were thankful enough that my father’s death had joined the ranks of the other kind, the quiet, dyingpeacefully-in-their-sleep kind, a death so wished for that it became something magical: nobody could have witnessed it, and his body was presumed to exhale his spirit right up into heaven.

I was quite grown then, but those death stories and the unsullied Mindanao sky made me imagine any two random stars—out of clusters of millions—close enough together as eyes, and I dreamt about them that night and began to imagine other things as eyes—the twin headlights of the bus narrowly missing us on the dark road back to Davao City, the reading lights on the overhead console on the plane ride back to Manila.

I really saw Kate only when she crossed the University Avenue one late night after exams. I really didn’t know her because we were from different sections. I only knew her by name, and maybe by glimpses of her face in the school crowd. But as she passed that night under the yellow flares of two streetlamps I saw her face, and her body, lit quickly and fully from two sides.

The world was already well into the Internet age when I finally took her to my apartment. We had gone on to the same college, and I wondered for the longest time whether we had done it separately on purpose. She took a business course and I chose something called Interdisciplinary Studies, which many jokingly called Interplanetary Studies, which is really a way of saying I didn’t know what to do with my life.

We both didn’t know what to do then, that night, either. There were four hours of fumbling and two hours of sleep, which commenced right when my roommates arrived. I couldn’t afford the kind of place she had, which was a one-bedroom unit all to herself, with a balcony and a maid’s quarters, except her mother came in at odd hours to deliver fresh groceries, clean clothes and back-issues of Hollywood magazines. The maid’s quarters would have come in handy as a temporary hiding place, except that was where her mother liked to deposit all her canned goods and fresh laundry.

Kate asked me about my mother on one of our early dates and I didn’t know what to tell her because I honestly didn’t know what my mother was doing, or in fact where she was. I just gave her the answer I always gave those who asked, that she had decided to stay firmly behind in the province, and to me there was always some residual truth to this.

And this is where my sister figures because though I was never really in touch with her we had met once, in my early college days, quite by accident. I was walking the mall looking for something to eat and I saw her, quite grown since I had last seen her what, two or three years before? I didn’t know how I recognized her so quickly and from without even seeing her face, but of course you shake off that initial feeling and settle in quite comfortably. We found ourselves, weirdly enough, at a Jollibee, ordering the same thing we always got when we were in a kind of limbo after my father died but hated to order because it was Jollibee Chicken Joy and you can’t really say that out loud if there’s nothing much to be happy about.

It turned out there was no Jollibee and nothing to be happy about where my mother was either, and come to think of it, it did make us realize that the city is really good for bumping into people you know.

We found ourselves unconsciously doing the same things with our

bodies and our hands, the weird things you never notice when you’re around each other all the time. It was as if we were mimicking each other, shrugging our shoulders too much when we laughed, uttering the same non-words on the way to saying something crucial, even having to pee before leaving the restaurant.

The next time I bumped into my sister I was already about to graduate and was thinking about what to do for a living. But I did something brash and told her about Kate and how I didn’t really know what would happen between us. But I described Kate to her, about what she was like and what she liked. My sister told me about her apartment and her work and then we talked about what we really wanted to not talk about but what we also wanted to talk about, which was our mother.

At first I was full of pity and remorse and then I realized that I had actually hated her from the very beginning. That was a strong word but it felt right to hear it repeated by my sister. It was my mother whom I had heard complain one day about that one old car out of many that was left in the garage, that my father had not even bothered to insure, or register at the Land Transportation Office.

It was she who had forced my father to give up that yellow pickup and his dream of driving us to Mindanao. “What’s in Mindanao, anyway?” she would say. That paint job, I suddenly remembered, was so that the New People’s Army wouldn’t mistake us for a military vehicle and fire at us as we passed through Samar or Leyte, or wherever, because my father told me they were everywhere and we must be careful on the ride.

So where was mother now, I asked my sister, and she said she probably was where she had always been since we last talked about her. It was easy to imagine how anyone can make a home of it in Davao—but no, it wasn’t even Davao, which has malls and movie theatres and five-star hotels and discos now, just like any big city in the Philippines—it was one of those small dark towns on the fringes, lining the sides of the national highway, houses shoulder-to-shoulder with karaoke joints, sari-sari stores, cockfighting pits, interrupted only by unpaved farm-to-market roads and god knows what.

Directly after graduating, Kate left for the United States for her masters’ degree. That had been the plan anyway, and my sister, who had kept in touch enough for a while, treated us to the last Filipino meal she would be having for a long time.

Kate asked us again about our mother, if she even knew about my graduating. I suspected that if my mother knew she would come, whether or not I was the one who let her know or not, but before I could say anything my sister saved us—or just me, perhaps—by saying things were most likely not good on the home front and it would have been a bit of a drain on resources if she had booked a flight. That was a good save, I suppose, and made very little difference anyway to Kate, who had never met my mother or my father or never even knew what either looked like.

My sister had just picked up a subcompact Toyota under her firm’s car plan and she dutifully drove us to the airport, where I hugged Kate goodbye and gave her a peck on the lips before she entered the gate beyond which only ticketed passengers were allowed, her fall coat slung like a stiff dark weight over her shoulder bag, her jeans as carefully pressed as dress pants.

After Kate disappeared my sister dropped me off at my apartment building. She had never gone in, and it wasn’t really a good time then because it was five in the morning and she would have to park and my unit was all the way up on the 12th floor. So we said our goodbyes and I really haven’t seen her since, and there’s really been quite a bit to talk about the next time we bump into each other.

It might be a good time to talk about money now, since I had gotten a job shortly after and that was a reason to rejoice. Money was something I always almost had quite a bit of, thanks to the odd

writing or blogging jobs I accepted, except something would always come up. Kate and I took care to only Skype and we texted only when it was about something important. So the thing that always came up never did come up for me for a while and so there was the faint idea of a visit. I had never gone to the US and had never even applied for a visa, but the last two or three friends I knew who did all got rejected precisely for money. There was either too much of it in their bank account or too little of it, or something like that. I had never been brave enough to ask what the matter really was.

I’d thought up schemes, about applying for a grant somewhere, something easy and obscure enough for someone like me with nothing but a degree in interdisciplinary studies to make it. But then I thought, why not go for it and be honest about it. That was something my father would have told me to do. But I don’t know if it’s something he would actually do himself.

So Kate and I Skyped in between and I never mentioned my far-fetched plan. We noted our timezones so that my lunch breaks connected with her bedtime and vice versa. My line was almost always bad so we switched off our cameras most of the time and just talked or kept the line open while we did our work.

On one of those camera-less times it was three in the morning in Manila. She told me she had come home after her morning classes to take a nap. I had just come home from another work crisis so it all worked out. Kate described everything around her to me in great detail, beginning with her arrival at the stone porch of her apartment building and the furry thing on it that she wiped her boots on and the heavy key she used that had “Do Not Duplicate” engraved on it.

The key was heavier than the keyring, which had a tiny guitar made out of pinewood with her name on it on one side and on the other side, “Baguio City.”

That wasn’t a trip she took with me. That was with her friends back in the summer right after college. As usual I didn’t have the money to go with them, though I can’t remember being invited anyway, but I do remember she told me everything in detail too, so that I could compare the Baguio she knew with the Baguio I knew—years and years before—when my father took us up there.

Kate took me up the carpeted stairs, through a doorway into her room, big enough for a double bed, a bookshelf, a desk and a chair.

There was a small window that looked out into an empty apartment in the building right across. There was a small table and an electric heater at her bedside and she took me through her things, her schoolbooks, a pair of gloves, her vitamins, her headache pills and her birth control pills. That made me wonder, with a flash of jealousy, but then she described to me her aching limbs, taking care to explain how the way the ache really felt, as though all her blood had pooled in her calves and it was all threatening to burst out. And she poked them out from the covers so she could tell me what they looked like aching, and they had swollen like a pregnant woman’s legs. She described her chapped feet and her untended toenails, telling me they were not like I was used to seeing them. She took me through the bright patterns on her comforter, the ridges and the folds her flannel pajama top made between the comforter and her belly, and the colors of her skin, blotched by schoolwork and weather. She was fair-skinned to begin with but her stay in Chicago had made her skin positively pale, especially the skin of her belly.

She told me about how a faint line of hair had startlingly begun to form below her navel, how fine it was and how stiff it was, and that she had never noticed this before. She told me how she was idly sweeping up the strands with a thumb and forefinger as she told me about other things, the WASPs and the Jewish American Princesses and the guys she met, mostly Fil-Ams, and some guys she knew back in high school who she had bumped into on-campus. Of course I wondered what else was there and who was there and what she was

we found ourselves unconsciously doing the saMe things with our bodies and our hands, the weird things you never notice when you’re around each other all the tiMe. not telling me about, but it was an abstract anxiety and I could not pinpoint what it was that I really wanted to hear.

Has it snowed yet? I asked her.

No, she said, and she reminded me about how much she couldn’t wait, and neither could her other friends, the new friends she had made, from Thailand and Vietnam and Korea, and she told me what they were like, and I might have fallen asleep if she hadn’t asked me to describe myself. I looked around me and thought about where to start and I made the room a bit bigger than it really was. I added a few details and I surprised myself with the non-existent things I could deliver so easily: a new suit hanging from a closet handle that I was planning to wear to work that morning, a coffee maker from the day earlier whose coffee I could smell all the way from my bed, a box full of calling cards I had obtained from all the contacts I’d been making in my work.

She then asked me to described myself like she did, and that proved more difficult, as if I were making myself up for her out of thin air. I described the texture of my unshaven cheek to her, knowing it was something she told me she always liked to feel against her skin. But I was cheating—it was something to feel her with, not something the skin of her hands could touch and remember, or remark about how different it was now, how she had never realized how rough whatever it was really was, or how wrinkled, or how round. I offered the back of my hands, my hairline, the protuberance of my kneecap. But I knew it was all the same old me she had known before she left.

I tried hard to tell her something new or something fresh, but it was taking me a long time to think because I was getting sleepy. I looked at my curtains and they were yellow, so I told her about our yellow pickup, wondering at the same time why I’d never told her about it. I told her about our trip from Luzon to Mindanao and It would have taken all of 24 hours, give or take, and my father had planned out all that we would need to bring: two spare tires, an extra battery, one of those long-range floodlights from the surplus shop, a five gallon container of gas, ice chests, sleeping bags, folding chairs, a camping cooker and a map, not any old map that you can get at National Bookstore, but a map of the entire Philippines that you can fold out large enough, with enough detail to show the major roads.

The stops we would be making and the points of interest circled clearly. We never discussed how we would fit into the rear with all that cargo.

That was when I thought about paying a visit to my mother.

Maybe that weekend or the next, unannounced. How hard could it be? I’d always known she never moved, and it shouldn’t be an ordeal to find out how to get to her town. But it was also difficult to do at the

same time. I mean, do you bring money, do you bring photos, do you bring souvenirs?

She’d be home when I got there, with cousins and aunts, watching a noontime variety show turned up to a disturbing volume. They’d be turning deaf and slow, down to my mother, and I would hate the sound of her voice when she spoke to me because it would be loud and I would have turned gruff, and she’d be speaking more Visayan than Tagalog now and I took it to mean she had turned her back on her old ways.

Afternoons were for HBO and Cinemax and then it was one dubbed soap after another, and I couldn’t imagine this kind of life even if I tried my hardest. When dinnertime came someone finally switched off the TV but you could still follow what was happening because the other TVs in the neighborhood were on the same program. For dinner someone would do something to a chicken and we would all smell it hanging in the air long after it was all gone. I’d try to feign fatigue but my mother would have already taken her place on the sofa, her hands scratching against the leatherette cushions, ready with a photo album. There would be photos of me, in kindergarten, in grade school. One of me in a clip-on tie carrying a bible. Maybe my first communion. If I had it now in my hands, if I leafed through it now, there would be big jumps in the album—nothing on my college years, nothing on my working years, except maybe a couple of me with my sister that she might have taken the trouble to print and send over, plus some photos of her, maybe happily dining with friends, or one of her at her workdesk, working on whatever it was she was working on. I don’t know if my sister would do that, but she might.

My father took a lot of odd jobs. For example, he knew someone who knew someone who knew a Japanese guy who needed someone to do something really quick and simple. It was going to be in-and-out, collect-the-check and get out, and it was going to have to be yes or no, right then and there. He had just met him, and he was surprised by how dark he was for a Japanese man, dark like a Pinoy. He asked him if he’d been living in the country a long time and the guy said it was his first time in the Philippines and he’d been there two, three days. In and out. That was the end of the small talk. So he said yes because he needed the tie-rod replaced and the mechanic had warned him that if something happened it would happen very quickly and they wouldn’t know where to find him or how to put him together if they did.

So he shows up as instructed at this warehouse where there’s a refrigerated container van parked right up front. The engine’s running and the big compressor stuck to the back of the driver’s

cab is running high and water is dripping down to the pavement.

The back door opens and vapor comes out and a couple of heavies come out, all smoky in their heavy black jumpsuits and wave at him and tell him to enter. But this guy doesn’t, he’s waiting for his suit, too. He starts getting scared to death, of the cold and the guys and of what’s in the container van, but he’s also scared to death of taking even a couple of steps closer to take a look. But the guys are waving at him and waving him in and he realizes they’re Filipinos too so that thaws out his fear a little bit. He takes the couple of steps and it’s just all vapor he sees at the container van door because all that humidity is hitting all that cold in the van.

“Never trust the Japanese,” his father had told him. I never met my grandfather, but he survived the death march. Papa plants his feet on the pavement and rolls his hands into fists because his father had also told him how to prepare for a fight: stand your ground and never look at his eyes, look at the space between them, he’ll never be able to tell.

So these heavies—and he starts recognizing that they only look heavy because their jumpsuits are thick as pillows—start getting really hot and uncomfortable right in between those two temperature zones.

One of them starts trying to explain what’s in there to him and the other has gone half in and is now pulling something out of the van and it’s a big white furry thing that looks like a cross between Hello Kitty and the cutest, most harmless looking polar bear you could ever have an ad agency art director make who has never seen a single hair of a real polar bear, which averages about 3,000 pounds of pure muscle.

Packed in the rest of the available space in the van that wasn’t for the suit or the two heavies were crates of Japanese ice cream. So the only way they could all fit was for him to put on his costume so they could bring them to where they were supposed to launch the product and where all those kids and their schoolteachers were waiting for them, all hot and uncomfortable, too, because it was summer, the perfect time for launching imported ice cream.

They help my father put on the suit and he practices a few moves.

He can’t see his feet out of his eyeholes. His hands only have three fingers. He can smell his own stale breath blowing back into his face.

Something tugs at his arm and he turns his whole body to see Mr. Toshi, also in a white jumpsuit, looking smaller and darker than when he last saw him.

Mr. Toshi tells him the mascot rules in admirable English. He probably studied in America.

“You don’t have to smile, but if you do, it comes out better, so please smile. Put your hands to your mouth and wiggle your head back to demonstrate that you are laughing. Draw a heart in the air to say “I love you.” Use these hand signals to tell your guides—he gestures to the two men in jumpsuits—if you need to rest, or if you need help. Most importantly, don’t speak.”

My father and the two men enter the container and his sweat freezes and it’s the only time he realizes he is sweating. All he can see is cold vapor and crates of ice cream. He feels the van move and his handlers grip his arms and prop him up.

The van stops fifteen minutes later and he hears music from outside. The beats are coming through the walls of the van and the crates of ice cream and the layers of his costume. The song is “Ice Ice Baby.” The song is cut by a voice making an excited announcement through the PA system. Someone bangs on the van again and they turn him around and shout in his ear to stay close to them.

After his baptism of fire stepping out of the van right into the big pan of heat that was that yard full of sweating kids, it was nothing to him to trampoline or bungee jump in that suit. They raised his pay, of course, every time he did something risky like that. It was all

good. And the suit itself, well, it felt shockproof. He did not put it on as much as enter it, like it was an airplane or a submarine.

He wore it like a second skin. Sometimes he felt himself smiling as he waved and did his little dance, and he knew he couldn’t help it that way. He sort of knew, he told me, that when he wasn’t smiling his wave was slightly different and he felt the difference in the cheers and waves of the children in front of him. And though he couldn’t speak, he had soon devised a language with what he could do with an arm and a hand, a pair of flapping eyelids, his feet and his big fat white hairy body.

The door opens and white fluffy clouds appear in front of his eyes. Somewhere 12,500 feet below they’re playing “Ice Ice Baby” again. His lifts his left hand so he can see it, a white paw thrust into the wind. His right hand is firmly hooked around the parachute strap dangling from his shoulder.

He walks forward a few steps and waits for his handlers to give him a push. He steps out into the air and falls face down into the city. He can see the roads and the mountains and the sea. He sees the buildings and the parking lots and finds the schoolyard where hundreds of kids are waiting for him.

The cold lets go and the costume starts filling up with heat. He lands with a roll and a tumble, and his handlers on the ground take his parachute away and stand him up on two legs. He’s right on target.

He hears the kids shouting his name: “Polly! Polly! Polly!” He lifts a heavy hand and waves to the exultant crowd and they wave back, their skinny arms matching him beat for beat. He feels himself smiling. The music seems louder now, and faster. Maybe it’s because his arm is tired. He lets his right arm drop and he lifts his left arm and waves it. He sees the crowd do the same. He swings his hips and the crowd does the same. So it’s left arm, left arm, left arm, right arm with a swing to make one bar. Where are his handlers? They’re probably back in the van opening up the crates and getting out all the ice cream. They’re probably going to toss all those icedrops at the crowd. The crowd roars. He’s so close to them it feels like he’s at the edge of the stage. He feels himself settling back against the frame of his costume and he feels himself dropping back. He knows he is fainting but he is still smiling, because fainting is better than the heat.

My grandfather survived the death march by filling his pockets with salt. It was one of those stories they like to tell whenever we go to the province. When I was a kid I wondered why he didn’t fill his pocket with sandwiches or bananas instead. Anyway he survived, but thankfully, not long enough to see his own son suffer under the same masters.

Papa spent a weekend in a nice hospital room and got a little bonus on his paycheck. They never hired him again, though we would go on to see Polly the Polar Bear breakdance, do cartwheels and skydive again and again into school fairs.

I borrowed a friend’s Rolex to wear to the visa interview. It was heavier than I thought. Now I am in a coat, a scarf and boots. I’ve never worn any of these things before and they look so strange on me that I wanted to describe what I am wearing to myself.

Everything is just as she described it to me. Lake Michigan looks like it’s an ocean. The big smooth metal buses have scrolling LED displays that clearly tell you where you’re going.

I stop before I ring the doorbell because I know she isn’t there. A friend of hers would have called as soon as the first flurries showed.

Maybe it was that guy friend I’ve always been jealous about, trying to hide the excitement in his voice, simply saying “Well?” and she would have known exactly what he meant. They would have run out their rooms, scrambled down their steps, flung open the doors and rushed out into the air, wearing whatever they were wearing in the freezing cold, and I wouldn’t hold it against them.

What I’ve Learned

Gregorio Honasan Senator, vice-presidential candidate

IntERvIEw PJ Caña

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PhotogRaPh JosePh PasCual

I’ve jumped from perfectly good airplanes about 4,000 times in my life. My parachute has malfunctioned seven times. And the first word I utter is “God.”

First i wanted to become a priest.

So if fate decided otherwise, you would have been interviewing a bishop. it’s a cliché, but at the [philippine military academy] i learned to be a man For others.

To deal with issues that are bigger than all of us combined. To define your career in terms of God, country, and family—it has to be all or nothing. Everything else has to be incorporated into that defining character. you practically sign a contract where the job description requires your willingness to give up your life, to do what is necessary to accomplish your mission. i’ve been a soldier For 17 years, with the battle scars to prove it. But please don’t ask me to take off my shirt.

I have bullet wounds and grenade scars. Add to that seven years as a military rebel. when i was underground, they raided one oF the houses where we were having a meeting. I had to leave fast and scramble over a fence. My ring finger got caught in a barbed wire and broken bottles. I had to look for the finger and the ring, because my wife would not forgive me if I lost it. in the battleField, you are on the threshold of playing god. You decide who lives and who dies. And you rationalize that with a higher objective. i have held dying men in my arms, telling me before their last breath that they would give me half a year’s salary so we could rent a helicopter to pick him and the other casualties up, and evacuate them to the nearest hospital. This is embedded in my brain and in my heart forever.

That’s why I know how it is to be on both sides, to be on the receiving end of any conflict. [my] relationship with senator [Juan ponce] enrile has lasted more than some marriages, because

we never interfered with each other’s core judgment calls. I can deal with the perceptions that I’m his shadow, and he’s my surrogate father. But I have no regrets. I have learned so much from him, including how to prioritize our objectives and our limited resources. That reflects the highest level of statesmanship.

them. We teach them discipline so they can be dependable. Our job, since they’re our most precious and strategic resource, is to help make them smarter, healthier, happier, and safer.

i’ve been accused oF being a coup plotter. But the figures vary. The point is, when certain groups and interests benefit, the vocabulary is kinder: you’re called a military rebel, a revolutionary, an ingredient that completes the People Power in the streets. But if the same interest groups, vested as they are, do not benefit, and they become consistently the target of your “affections,” you are called a power-grabber, a self-appointed messiah, a coup plotter. The vocabulary doesn’t bother me because I’m only after my consistency.

iF you try to destroy my name and get in the way of my going home without my legacy intact, then we fight. My history should tell you that I have the credentials to back that up. I’ve stood on the grounds of Malacañang Palace three times in full combat gear without an invitation, aside from the one from my conscience.

consistency deFines me. I’ve never wavered from what I thought was my purpose in life. i’ve never aligned myselF with a political party because first, we don’t have a functioning political party system.

You name me a party and I will tell you how fragmented it is. we have to learn to build. Before, we had these romantic notions of an overnight revolution, but you realize, over time, that these things take time. You have to build sustainability and predictability. organized hypocrisy annoys me. You cannot give what you do not have. i’ve been shot so many times. It’s not really a painful experience. Some initial shock and pain, then numbness. But I don’t tell everybody that because it’s part of the deterrent to criminals. I don’t tell them it’s not painful. i don’t agree with this platitude that the youth are our future. They are their own future. By the time they hit their future, we won’t be around. So all we can do is to prepare

sometimes we become victims of limited information.

i’m a light sleeper between two and four in the morning. Ang tawag diyan “oras de peligro.”

This is a habit from a previous lifetime; this is when the enemy attacks, or when we attack. In fact, sometimes I hear bugles, and I tense up and start palpitating, and by force of habit, I grab a firearm, which is not there. Then, I look at my wife, this slightly snoring senior citizen beside me. And I pray quietly to God, that ideally, we should go together. If You are to take either one of us, You have to take me first. Because with all my shortcomings, my imperfections, my indiscretions and infirmities, I cannot imagine living a life without this person. i tell that to newly married couples. Sabi ko, use that line so that you can gain points. i’m aFraid every second oF my liFe. Being afraid is different from willing to fight even when you’re afraid. And that, in my terms, is probably what courage means: you’re afraid, but you fight because you have to. religion is a word to me. I believe in a power, a force that is greater than all of us. I’ve jumped from perfectly good airplanes about 4,000 times in my life. My parachute has malfunctioned seven times. And the first word I utter is “God.” winning is god’s worK, cheating is man’s design.

februar 2016 • eSQuIre

97

Lighten Up ThERE IS a TUg-o’-waR bETwEEn bEIng TImElESS anD bEIng TImEly. anD whIlE IT may SEEm ThaT SUbScRIbIng To ThE claSSIc IS ThE bEST coURSE of acTIon, IT woUlD bE caRElESS To IgnoRE whaT

IS of ThE momEnT. ThESE may noT bE ThE cloThES yoU wEaR To ThE boaRDRoom, bUT ThESE of-akInD pIEcES wIll gRoUnD yoU In ThE pRESEnT. yoU Don’T havE To wEaR ThEm all aT oncE, bUT wE SUggEST ThaT yoU TRy ThEm (wITh yoUR collEcTIon of ElEganT pIEcES, of coURSE) anD go fRom ThERE. PHOTOGRAPHS GERIC CRUZ STYLING CLIFFORD OLANDAY ART DIRECTION EDRIC DELA ROSA

XXX E S Q U I R E • D E c E m b E R 2 0 1 5

December 2015 â&#x20AC;¢ ESQUIRE

XXX

look to the streets, where the tide is slowly moving toward fits that are looser (and yes, more comfortable).

Jacket (P10,990) and short-sleeved shirt (P1,690), both by H&M Studio, jeans (P14,400) by 7 For All Mankind, and boots (P3,490) by H&M.

razor-sharp proportions and sculptural shapes have made what were once athletic-only pieces (like the jogger pants) more acceptable.

Jacket (P51,685) and pants (P13,685), both by CK Platinum, T-shirt with hood (P1,490) by H&M Studio, and trainers (P2,290) by H&M.

100 E S Q U I R E â&#x20AC;˘ f E b R U a R y 2 0 1 6

December 2015 â&#x20AC;¢ eSQUIre

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102 E S Q U I R E â&#x20AC;¢ f E b R U a R y 2 0 1 6

An eAsy updAte: considered print.

the

well-

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by H&M Studio, sneakers (P1,190) by H&M, and cap (P1,780) by AC+632.

february 2016 â&#x20AC;¢ eSQuIre

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No Need to go to the extreme with a raiNbow-colored coat. aN overdyed jeaN jacket will do just fiNe. Jacket (P6,992.50) and pants (P9,485), both by Joseph, and T-shirt (P1,950) by Penguin.

sport plus suit? aNother easy update.

Sport coat (P5,950) and T-shirt (P1,950), both by Penguin, pants (P2,290) by H&M Studio, and cap (P980) by Firma.

104 E S Q U I R E â&#x20AC;˘ f E b R U a R y 2 0 1 6

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MODEL Peter at im agenCy GROOMING muriel vega PereZ INTERN alyana CaBral Shot on location at 88 Hotspring Resort, 88hotspring.com.

What’s Wrong little fun?

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having

a

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sometimes it’s just a matter of Wearing the things you have in a different Way. Shirt (P10,985) and sweater (P6,492.50), both by Joseph, and pants (P15,985, with belt) by CK Platinum.

february 2016 • eSQuIre

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This Way Out

OCTOBER 1972

BY AudreY N. CArpio

108 E S Q U I R E • f E b R U a R y 2 0 1 6

Previously on esquire...

Impotence—commonly known as limp dick, whisky dick, the old Flacido Domingo—is now nothing a couple of Cialises can’t handle. Back in 1972 however, it was a scourge on the rise. “Has it hit you yet?” the Esquire cover headline asks a generation of men too young to be turned off by sex with middle-aged partners, arousing a deep fear that it’s not them, it’s us. Sexually liberated women were coming into their own (and perhaps on their own) during this era, and the pressure was on. No one else personified ubermasculinity than Burt Reynolds, who only four months earlier,

posed nude for Cosmopolitan’s centerfold, the first of its kind in what would forever be an iconic image (two words: bearskin rug).

The women’s magazine sold a record-breaking 1.6 million copies and also spawned the creation of Playgirl magazine when Douglas Lambert, owner of the Playgirl Club, saw the centerfold and realized that women were horny visual creatures, too. The spread catapulted Reynolds into superstar territory, turning him into the hirsute sex symbol we remember him as today. By the time he was asked to be the face of impotence for Esquire, he “got the joke right away.” He told Esquire some four decades

later, “I think the best thing you can do when your masculinity is being brought up constantly is just to have fun with it.”

Incidentally, the October cover was originally meant for a nude Jack Nicholson, whom art director George Lois had photographed sitting by a poolside in nothing but a sunhat and woven sandals with the cover headline “Jack Nicholson is right! Los Angeles is the best suburb in America.” But the cover was canned at the last minute due to Nicholson’s agent threatening to sue. Male nudity, it appears, was deemed unacceptable.

Burt Reynolds later admitted in his 2015 memoir But Enough About Me that he deeply regrets doing the Cosmo centerfold and claimed it was not the Viagra for his career that everyone made it out to be. Still, he wouldn’t be the Burt Reynolds he became if he wasn’t young and foolish enough to entertain Cosmopolitan editor-in-chief Helen Gurley Brown’s wild taboo-breaking fantasy. Viva la sexual revolution.

MAN AT HIS BEST February 2016

PHILIPPINES

BEFORE WE BEGIN

A L E T T E R F RO M T H E FAS H I O N E D I TO R

Bottoms Up

We got to admit: There are days when trying to dress well can be trying, and that’s why we’re all for pieces that are uncomplicated, dependable, and, dare we say it, easy. These are the things that you reach for on most days, the things that make you feel good, your most favorite pieces. Fun fact: You only wear as little as 13 percent of the clothes in your closet.

So here’s a proposition for the new year: How about we increase the odds of looking and feeling good by stocking up on these fail-safe pieces? And how about we start from the bottom up—as in your pants? You know, the things that cover half of your body, that tricky region where shapes get weird.

Observe the pairs of pants in these pages. They get two crucial points right: the fit (pants should streamline your shape) and length (those ribbed cuffs provide a cleaner break). But the real magic of these things is how they combine the world of suiting and sport so effortlessly. Check out the belt loops on the elastic waistband. The idea sounds crazy and yet, in these pieces, it works. You get style and comfort in a neat little package. Wear a belt and it’ll be your little secret. It’s gonna be a good day.

CLIFFORD OLANDAY Fashion Features Editor

Photographed by JEANNE YOUNG Creative Direction VINCE UY Words CHICA VILLARTA Stylist LORIS PEÑA Art Direction POW SANTILLAN Managing Editor ROANA CAPAQUE Copy Editor JAE DE VEYRA PICKRELL Producer PEARL BACASMAS Makeup DON DE JESUS Hair RHOY CERVANTES Models JOHN JAMES UY and JESSICA YANG

PANTS ON FIRE

I T A I N ’ T N O L I E— M O D E L J O H N JA M E S U Y K N OWS H I S U N I Q LO B OT TO M S A L L TO O W E L L . B U T T H I S T I M E , W E S H A K E T H I N G S U P BY AS K I N G H I S L A DY LOV E J E SS I CA YA N G TO ST Y L E H E R M A N ’S DA P P E R T RO U S E RS.

O U T FO R A J O G Waffle Henley Neck Long-Sleeved T-Shirt, P990; Jogger Pants, P1490; Comfort Jacket, P2990

GET IN HIS PANTS R E A L LY, H OW D O WO M E N WA N T T H E I R M A N TO D R E SS? J E SS I CA YA N G G E TS TO T H E B OT TO M O F T H E I SS U E : I N A C LOS E T TA K EOV E R, T H I S TA I WA N E S E ST U N N E R TA K E S O N B OY F R I E N D ST Y L I N G D U T I E S FO R H E R B E AU J O H N JA M E S U Y.

“Here’s a hoodie I wouldn’t mind stealing from him.”

“Military prints always scream man to me.”

“Love it when even his socks are on point.”

DAT E N I G H T: P R I N T T H E TOW N R E D

G O N E T R AV E L I N G : E ASY D O E S I T

City slickers do date night with dapper essentials with a patterned twist.

Leisurewear can be had without a discount on style. Wander around in somber neutrals.

Easy Care Stretch Slim Fit Oxford Long-Sleeved Shirt, P1490; Ultra Stretch Chino Flat-Front Pants, P1990; Narrow Belt, P990; Socks, P197

Packaged Dry Color Crew-Neck T-Shirt, Php 290; Jogger Pants, P1490; Sweat Long-Sleeved Full-Zip Hoodie, P1490; Stretch Mesh Belt, P990; Folding Sunglasses, P790

JESSICA SAYS: “John James is a stylish guy all on his own—that’s one of the things that drew me to him.

But I wouldn’t mind wearing the pants and dressing him up this time. How would I style him? I would just build on the style he’s used to, but add on some pieces I’d want him to wear, or those I know I’d like seeing on him when we’re together. It should be a cinch.”

“Blue buttondowns are a stylish no-brainer.”

“When my boy is in the crispest white, I just can’t look away.”

B OYS N I G H T O U T: WHERE THE GOOD MEN ARE

ST R A I G H T O U T O F T H E GY M : FRESH AND CLEAN

A girlfriend’s choice for BNO: screaming good boy from head to toe.

Don athleisure staples that make you look even better post-workout.

EFC Broadcloth Long-Sleeved Shirt, P1290; Ultra Stretch Chino Flat-Front Pants, P1990

Monster Hunter Graphic T-Shirt, P790; Jogger Pants, P1490

STARTED FROM THE BOTTOM

U N I Q LO T RO U S E RS K I C K O F F C O U P L E D R E SS I N G I N T H I S ST Y L E STO RY. F RO M S I N G L E B L E SS E D N E SS TO PA RT N E R E D B L I SS, T H I S PA I R â&#x20AC;&#x2122;S G OT T H E I R PA N T GA M E D OW N PAT.

Left: Pullover Sweatshirt, P1290; Ultra Stretch Chino FlatFront Pants, P1990; Blocktech Parka, P3990; Belt, P990.

Right: Oxford Long Sleeve Shirt, P1290; Jogger Pants, P1490; Light Pocketable Parka, P3990; Belt, P990

Dry Pique Striped Polo Shirt, P990; Ultra Stretch Chino Flat-Front Pants, P1990; Sweat Long-Sleeved Shirt, P1290

E D ’ S N O T E Fashion’s concocted so many new pant styles to try and it’s no surprise that this month’s fashion collaboration with Uniqlo is centered on the Japanese brand’s broad selection of trousers.

Our go-to pairs at Preview HQ include basics that taper at the ankle, whether in a staid gray or a printed weave.

Worn with a button-down for polish or a light sweatshirt and sneakers on more casual days, it has a versatility that makes restyling a cinch. Then there are those culottes we’ve come to love both for its hip silhouette and the breathing room it gives.

Consider this a little nudge for you to step into a fresh pair (or two) from Uniqlo and style it your own way.

Isha Andaya-Vallés, Executive Editor

Photographed by JEANNE YOUNG Managing Editor ROANA CAPAQUE

Creative Direction VINCE UY Words CHICA VILLARTA Fashion Editor LORIS PEÑA Art Direction KATRINA VELOSO Copy Editor JAE DE VEYRA PICKRELL Producer PEARL BACASMAS Makeup DON DE JESUS Hair RHOY CERVANTES Models JESSICA YANG and JOHN JAMES UY

T R O U S E R T R I P P I N G Crisp trousers are a must-check on your travel packing list.

Color coordination always nails easy travel chic.

HE

SAYS:

h I love it when my girl looks effortless and stylish when we travel.

Premium Linen Long-Sleeved Blouse, P1490; Rayon Stand Collar Long-Sleeved Blouse, P1290; IDLF Basket Bag, P1490; Cotton Feel Ankle-Length Pants, P1490 *Product and color availability may vary per store.

Youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re Coming With Make sure your luggage is stacked with versatile sweaters and knitwear for sudden changes in temperature (or a really cold airplane).

THEYâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;RE HIS

Soft Jersey Jacket, P2990

Middle Gauge Cable Crew Neck Sweater, P1290

When traveling with the beau, save luggage space by borrowing his trousers! Boyfriend jeans, indeed.

Ultra Stretch Chino Flat Front Pants, P1990

A L L F O R R OM A N C E Oh, finally: date-night wear for fashion girls.

Rayon LongSleeved Blouse, P1290; Drape Wide-Leg Cropped Pants, P1490

How to wear wide-leg pants without repelling men: partner with a shirt buttoned just halfway.

Compromise, check!

*Product and color availability may vary per store.

HE

h When she steps out for date night wearing something unexpected, that always gets me.

Fight That Cold Aside from your manâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s arm, snuggle up to these cozy comforts on a breezy loversâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; evening.

Cotton Cashmere Long Cardigan, P1490; IDLF Stole, P790; Drape Gaucho Pants, P1490

+

+

SAYS:

T H I S G I R Lâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; S O F F D U T Y On blissful days when nothing matters, wear casual pieces in tomboy chic.

Drape Gaucho Pants, P1490; Stretch Pique Polo, P990; Canvas Tote Bag, P1490 *Product and color availability may vary per store.

Throw on pinstripes and structured polos together to make your two-minute outfit still look put-together.

HE

SAYS:

h Not gonna lie: When she looks like she borrowed from my closet instead of being full-on girlyâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;that excites me!

Like I Care Update off-duty staples, such as a tank top and gaucho pants, with pieces that make it look like you cared to dress up: a statement hat and prepschool socks.

IDLF Hat, P990; AIRism Camisole, P590; Short Socks, 3 for P590; Denim Wide-Leg Pants, P1990

S TA R T E D F R OM

T H E

B OT TOM Uniqlo trousers kick off couple dressing in this style story: From single blessedness to partnered bliss, this pairâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s got their pant game down pat.

LEFT: Denim Long Sleeve, P1690; Denim Gaucho Pants, P1490; Collarless Jacket, P2990 RIGHT: Extra Fine Cotton Long-Sleeved Shirt, P1490; Ankle-Length Pants, P1490; IDLF Stole, P790 *Product and color availability may vary per store.

AIRism Camisole, P590; Drape WideLeg Cropped Pants P1490; Soft Jersey Jacket, P2990