Growing up I took many things for granted. Only when I started to work did I appreciate and realize that travel was most educational, and how my exposure to different cultures — fashionable shopping, observing the people and getting the feel of many cities by visiting museums and theaters and appreciating music and dance, wine and cheese, croissants and baguettes, caviar, pâté and champagne — influenced me through the years.
My mother always stressed the point that travel was more educational than the classroom, and that flair, sophistication and cosmopolitanism are acquired from what is absorbed through traveling around the world (learning the flamenco a la Sevillana in Spain, for instance, or the tango in Argentina, or watching the way farmers make pâté from their own ducks and geese), and then adapting those experiences to one’s home country culture. She taught my siblings and me to become interesting by simply being interested, because that’s how she was.
She was not just an interested, interesting person, but also very interesting to look at. Anywhere we went with our mother, heads would turn, mouths would gape, and eyes would stare. Oftentimes after meals at restaurants in Florence or Paris, complete strangers from other tables would pay for our bills, or someone would send us flowers or petit four, yet she was so unconscious and nonchalant about admiring eyes. She would just primp at any given time and fix her bouncing bob.
She believed imitation was always the highest form of flattery, and therefore was always thrilled when ladies would ask where she had her hair done or where she found the shoes she was wearing. Nomer Pabilona, together with other long-gone hairstylists like D’ Fernando, Carmen and Flavio, Pepe Avelino, Lino Ramos of Kayumanggi, Toti Evangelista, and later on Budji and the Budjiwara staff, Petusa, Ruben, Virgie Diaz — they would all recount and tell her about how much many of their regular clients tried, on occasion, to sport her hairdo and makeup look. This even happened with Pierre Henri in New York, or Carita and the Georges V salon de beauté in Paris, or Sassoon on Old Bond Street in London, the Cavalieri Hilton in Rome, and the British salons in Hong Kong.
She loved her own blunt bob with or without bangs, snipped gracefully and flirtatiously, versus the teased version. She wore a pulled-back bun or chignon, or a soft ponytail; she never went for the disheveled look.
My mother was always invited to watch the season’s collections of the classic masters of the houses at the time —Chanel, Balenciaga, Valentino, Dior, YSL, Lanvin, Patou, Pucci — and we both had many favorite pieces from Tita Pilar Romack at the New Yorker on A. Mabini Street. Her local Filipino favorites were Ramon Valera, Slim, Ben Farrales, Aureo Alonzo, and all those in the Philippine Couture Association and Fashion Guild of the Philippines, particularly Christian Espiritu, Inno Sotto, Joe Salazar, Ernest Santiago, Pitoy Moreno, Pepito Albert, Chito Vijandre, Rusty Lopez, Larrie Silva, Caloy Badidoy — the list goes on. She would have most of the Jill Sander and Tyler blouses (and Harlan and Holden were she around today). That was her style: Norrell, Halston, Hanae Mori, Kenzo, Miyake and Yamamoto, Courrèges.
She would voraciously and religiously read Vogue, Bazaar, Town and Country and W. She would skim over and admire the fashion ads, and also loved the articles, editorials and features on known personalities, art, and home interiors. She consumed biographies and novels, and I imagine would have also been curious about 50 Shades of Grey.
Wearing jeans for a special occasion was frowned upon. At some point however they became acceptable, and eventually a must-have, worn day or night as casual chic. Many stylish and chic personalities have jean collections in their closets, but the torn and tattered ones are considered forms of reverse snobbism expressed: a professional no-no for La Divina.
In summary, my mother tempered trends and firmly believed in stylish simplicity. “Not every piece on our blessed bodies should be a designer piece or perfectly matched,” she often advised. “There should be some well-coordinated contrasts, either in colors or accessories — but please do avoid being a plain Jane.”