Official Owen

*star turns at star magic

Young actor vs young actor over young actress aside, this year's Star Magic Ball didn't fail to keep up with its reputation to surprise. Here are my picks for well-dressed. Sadly, those two young actors and that young actress were not sartorial enough to make the cut.

It is almost always impossible not to shine in an Inno. Look at Heart Evangelista. She outshone every other Star Magic contract artist that evening. 

Gretchen Barretto in Inno Sotto. Told you so.

Cristine Reyes always looks better covered up. Sleeved and still sexy in an Edgar Macapinlac.

Iya Villania in Joey Samson. This girl has always been on my style peripheral. That night, she was front and center.

Megan Young in Sassa Jimenez. She nailed it.

So did the younger Young. Lauren, also in Sassa, looks like the Odette to Megan's Odile.

Finally. It took a Michael Cinco to get the glamazon out of Gretchen Fullido. Before this intervention, her sad dresses in the evening newscast were already taking its toll on me.

I honestly do not know who this girl is, but please tell her that other than her sad purse, she got it right. She wore a Nat Manilag.

There are some women in this world who just don't seem to age. Look at fresh-faced Agot Isidro, in a JC Buendia, looking her usual classy. This capsleeved number would've looked sad and old on someone else. 

KC Concepcion wore Ezra pretty well. And if rumors are to be believed, she also wore her heart out pretty bad.

For reasons even I could not pinpoint, Kathryn Bernardo and her Francis Libiran looked so much better than the dozen others who wore the same silhouette that evening. Perhaps the headband is too much, but still apt for her age. 

Maricar Reyes and her enigma looked amazing in this red Francis Libiran. Peek well enough and you'll see that her shoes match the fuschia of her clutch. The actress and her color combination that evening are the best mysteries in showbiz and fashion reads, respectively.

Weird how my well-dressed list is bookended by stars from the rival network. Here's dusky Lovi Poe in a Nubian-inspired Rajo Laurel dress. This dress, as well as its black counterparts previously seen on Pam Quinones and Anne Curtis*, is reserved for the non-Spanx set.

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*See what I mean?

 

 

Pics from Stylebible. 

*yun naaaah!!!

Eto na siguro ang pinaka-astig na pick-up line na nabasa ko.

May kaakibat syang nerdoks na kilig. Syet.

*the editor's september note

Gawd, I hate it when this blog turns into a work diary. (The whole thing screams 2007*.) But this week has been great. That's saying a lot, to think that the workweek isn't over yet for me.

It's been awezum working with a devoted team of artists-logicians, giving a face to the brand I carry to the local media, deciding between hot pink and baby pink or serifs and sans serifs, and dodging/fighting/surrendering to the usual roadblocks that make work work. At times though, it's too fun that it becomes a paid hobby - exactly how productive time should elapse.

Perhaps I am swooning like a kid on his first date and will dread this romance one day, but I'd like to capture this moment as accurately as I can. I haven't felt anything like this (professionally) in a long time after all.

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*Naknampoocha. Haha.

Look at a 'vision entry' I wrote back in, ugh, 2007. So far, it's been seeming real.

Lesson here: Write your projections and they'll find a way to your present.

*time and motion study 1 (written June 2007) 

8:30 am – Woke up after only 5 hours of sleep and six snoozes (intervals of 5 minutes) until finally deciding to get up and heat leftover Chinese from two nights ago. Last night’s launch party was a hit. Thanks to an efficient staff, generous sponsors, and a fabulous guest list. Smoked the breathtaking city skyline ‘ Good Morning. ’

8:40 am – Checked personal email and comments from ‘the’ blog while brushing teeth. Never gave up on that bad practice. Must explain the bubble stains on the hardwood floor.

8:45 am – Cold shower while singing excerpts from the Rent Soundtrack and a soon-to-be hit from this obscure band discovered at a gig five blocks down. Never lost that tremolo; those days singing with the church choir were worth surviving post-pubescent limbo.

9:05 am – What to wear? So much free designer duds lying around the couch, nearly half of them unworn and last season. But really, who cares if it’s last season? The rest of us can only afford it now anyway.

9:45 am – Cab to work. Traffic’s hopeless. Might as well hit the subway. Backed out of the ride. Ran into an old friend from high school while buying a subway card. Free dinner on Saturday. Don’t we all love freebies?

10:20 am – Office Lobby. Not worth the attention given to Hamish or ALT as they step out of their Town Cars, but you’ve got to admit; people see you differently if they’ve seen you ’re doing a pretty good job. Smiles,besos , and small talk abound.

10:23 am – Elevator talk. The whispers are so potent they could sub for a double dosage of Vitamin C.

And that, dear reader, is the editor's note to my September Issue.

*my thirtieth day cometh

As I reach my thirtieth day in my new role in the company, the following things come to mind.

1. Effective design is based on research.
2. A work of art requires little or no explanation at all.
3. There is nothing more perfect than Helvetica. Nothing.
4. Design, if possible, should do the following all at once: educate, entertain, and inspire.
5. Reality alone does not suffice. Aspiration is an important element. This formula has enabled many a dreamer to make dreams real. This must never be sacrificed.
6. As in years past, research and solid data end all speculation and kill all unnecessary drama.
7. Taste is a compendium of one's lifestyle, exposure, and preferences. It is what you bring to the table. 
8. The real work begins after meetings. I am still a non-fan of most meetings. Meetings are mostly pageantry. 
9. Trust your team to bring it.  
10. Learning never ends.

I am right: this is hard work, but a whole lot of fun. 

Thank you, Universe. 

*louis, meet owen. owen, meet louis.

Something connects me to Louis Vuitton's F/W 2011 collection.

Seriously. But I'll keep mum for now.

*mood board for the week of august 7

Love the grosgrain ribbon watch of this tattooed guy. May I be as cool as him when I reach his age.

Nice tat on the guy in the suit.

 

This knapsack (right) was the inspiration for the bag I bought.

  

For some reason, I adore the jackass-ness of this guy.

Will I end up a tattoed jackass carrying a rucksack when I grow old?

Pics courtesy of Jak and Jil.

 

 

*how to sell a dream

1. Design with heritage.

2. Price it for the masses.

3. Style it so becomes aspirational.

4. Get the best girls to strut.

5. Leave everyone craving.

 

Props and praises to Alber Ebaz and his dreamy collaboration with H&M!

*the lame logo generator

Not like I'm supporting it. (I am not.) But this is just too funny to pass up.

______ kay ganda anything!

Check it out and make anything gan-duh.

 

*official owen's message to the Department of Tourism

Oh you have got to be kidding me.

 

This is the final artwork that made it to print? 

COME. ON.

I produced better output the last time I joined an on-the-spot drawing contest. IN MY HIGH SCHOOL SOPHOMORE YEAR. 

We are supposedly a hotbed of artistic talent. We even sent a couple of natives, now national heroes, to art schools in Europe eons ago. Our advertising creative directors are pirated by the biggest agencies in other Asian countries--we make their own vision understandable for their own markets. Flip a page of a decent fashion magazine and you'll realize, sans merchandise price points, that our layout and typography is at par and sometimes better than what publishing houses in the UK and US deliver to the stands.

Fine Arts and design graduates have taken upon themselves the unofficial task of rebranding this country minus spine-tingling and hair-raising  visions of the Bahay Kubo set against sunsets and meadows. Heard of Team Manila? In case you haven't, they've singlehandedly made national pride a cool manner of self-expression. They've even mentioned in the past how they've been itching to revamp the NAIA terminals. After all, the airport is a tourist's first physical encounter with a country. Do you even know that?

Your work would've been groundbreaking had it been 1994. But 1994 was almost twenty years ago and the font family you took those letters from has probably been rubbed out. Ever heard of Helvetica. I have a documentary DVD dedicated to that font and the power it has over the fields of history and commerce. Perhaps I can stage a mini film viewing for you.

And that campaign jingle. You must not have set foot on Saguijo or The Collective yet. Or God forbid, Cubao X. Do you not know how much emerging musicians there are in those grounds? I'd be offended if I were Ryan Cayabyab. I wouldn't want my Metropop masterpiece to be massacred in Carlo J. Caparas fashion. I'd cover my ears in dismay if I were Hajji Alejandro. It would be a shame to hear my signature song altered like that. I'd rather hear it again in an awards show. 

Are you unaware of the power of social media? Of bloggers and alleged social climbers that do more than elbow rubbing with world figures and whose written work - no matter how Strunk and White would disagree - actually have a pull with local readers who would rather scroll up and down Google Reader than care about your tacky visuals? Try Anna Wintour's Fashion Week seatmate Bryanboy, whose H&M podcasts are more tolerable than this YouTube video of your dreary brand launch. You could have asked him to ask Marc Jacobs to name a bag after this country - only to be sold in Marc Jacobs stores in Greenbelt. That would have sent the global fashion community and foreign lifestyle press packing their Rimowas for at least a day at our local mall, and a night on the town.

 

Don't you dare tell me about budget constraints. If we could afford to have first grade students learn math inside perennially flooded classrooms, we could have written a check for someone whose work can send a battalion of international missionaries to our depressed areas. Hell, you could have grabbed a decent graphic designer by the balls and have him render one study after another on the sole promise of worldwide acclaim. Ex-deal unnecessary. You could have eavesdropped on happy hour conversations of advertising folk in small, stealth pubs in Salcedo Village and struck gold out of their brain farts. Best of all, you could have made a mad dash to my office at the corner of Ayala and Buendia and demanded me for at least fifteen sample slogans. I would have obliged to the tune of Iced Venti 3-Splenda Americano.

All in all, it was easy to have come up with a smart, spanking, sublime campaign for this country, dear Department of Tourism.

So why then are you stamping this loser of a campaign on our foreheads?

I'd rather watch those old PAL ad campaigns from the 80s. I can live with the cobra hair.

*britney x murakami for pop

I'm not Britney's biggest fan but she is such a joy to look at. And Takashi Murakami, of course, is pop culture demigod. 

Must get these covers!