stories from the middle earth press room

"Hello. Call me "Zippo".

For the weekend after my 40th birthday, I decided to treat myself to finally read Kitty Go’s “WHEN CHIC HITS THE FAN.” I used the word “TREAT” because the work I read before this was Samuel Huntington’s tome “Clash of Civilization and the Remaking of the New World Order” which, took me a grueling whole month to digest.

I also use the word “TREAT” because the book was so deliciously wicked and juicy! When I finished the book, I literally made a sign of the cross and thanked the Lord for yanking me out of the world inhabited by the likes of Alicia Santos-Daniels, Tommy Hu, and Raissa Molina.

I was born to a pretty well-off family. Home was that subdivision called Forbes Park and was on the same street as “Silverio Han’s” parents’ house.

Dad, may he rest in peace, was a great businessman whose only “vice” was fine art. I grew up with the works of Amorsolo, Luna, Hidalgo, Ocampo, Malantic, Simon Flores, and the Old Bohol Masters hung around our home.

Mom was a woman of leisure who threw great parties and got invited to fabulous ones. Thanks to her mother and the fact that she was an only child, my mom had an extraordinary jewelry collection which she would use quite often (think: canary yellow diamond studs while playing mahjong – which was quite often).

Mom and dad’s parties were dutifully covered by “Tommy Hu” (he was still writing for the Times Journal [pre-EDSA 1 days]). I could still remember “Corina Caballero” attending one of the parties (nobody really paid much attention to her at that time). “Mrs. Ponce” was a constant staple at these parties (although she was not yet a newspaper publisher at that time). So was “Zenaida Zulueta’s” step-mother-in-law and “Emilio Lorenzo de Vergel’s” legitimate wife, the gracious “Maria Luisa Concio.”

Needless to say, my surroundings affected me. I went to the most exclusive of boy’s school in the Philippines of which my dad was an alumnus and of which my parents were benefactors. Even with other rich kids around me (some are now Congressmen, Governors, even Senators), I pretty much had just “a little more than the others.” “Mandy Jacob” from the book (c’mon, we all know who HE really is) was a schoolmate. So was “Raissa Molina’s” husband.

I had my first proper bespoke suit at 12 (London, not Hong Kong). I was wearing a gold Cartier Tank Watch at 13 when my classmates were wearing Citizens, Seikos, and Casios. I pretty much “ruled” high school.

Upon graduating from high school, dad gifted me with a solid gold Patek Philippe (which was originally HIS father’s), an Amorsolo canvas, and an imported European sports coupe with red paint, red, leather interior, red carpeting – hell everything was red including the f***ing steering wheel.

The family vacationed in either Hawaii (where my lola had a hilltop house overlooking the Pearl Harbor), San Francisco (where the folks had a Victorian Townhouse), New York (usually at the Carlyle or the Pierre – had to be Upper EAST Side baby), London (where the folks “invested” in a townhouse off Kensington Garden), or Paris (where we’d usually stay with this family who owned the most prestigious Cognac company in France – friends of my folks).

I hung out with the “right” crowd (with the “right” family names). I remember meeting “Alicia Santos-Daniels” in college (up HE and I went to the same University). He was this ever-smiling guy who was soft spoken (and was, at that time, a “newly converted” Born-Again Christian). Our group would, at times, invite him to lunch with us or play backgammon during class breaks because we kinda took pity at him because he was hanging out with no one.

My barkada went out with the right girls, also with the right “pedigree” (NOT Alicia, of course, as we suspected that he was sort of, uhmmm, swinging another way but we never took it against him). The right girls meant girls like “Raissa Molina” (no, I never dated her) and other debutante types. In fact, for 2 consecutive years, I had girlfriends who were named by Tommy Hu as the “Debutante of the Year” in his annual year-end “Who’s In and Who’s Out List”. I also dated some models but, thankfully, never “the willowy Nicky Nivera” (whom we all know is really a WOMAN).

I took up law where I met my wife (another spoiled brat like me). We were the “IT” couple who eventually had to get married because I knocked her up and her dad, who was, at that time, running for re-election, was about to make good on his threat to kill me.

Marriage was a grand event courtesy of my mom who asked the well-known cousin of “Ned Nivera” to assist her in the wedding preparations. Covered by the “society” columns of ALL newspapers and by, at that time, the ONLY glossy magazine in the Philippines.

Lawyering was great. Great because of my parent’s connections. I was made partner at 31 of the most prestigious law firm in the country. I sat on the boards of various corporations together with such personalities as: “Silverio Hans” and his father Henry; “Pedring and Gloria Quesada” (sabi na nga ba he was gay, I always suspected); “Christina Lorenzo de Vergel’s” now late uncle Eugenio; “Zenaida Zulueta’s” now late father-in-law (although because of a sorry accident in Spain never really attended board meetings that much); “Alexis Carbonel’s” estranged uncle “Eduardo”; and “Felicia Muñoz’s” uncle Jorge.

I was a “Boy Wonder”. I was so good at what I did that because of a written legal opinion that saved him billions, Kitty Go’s mythically miserly taipan uncle actually ordered and PAID for a bottle of Dom Perignon 1976 and actually SHARED the bottle with me (the last lawyer who saved him billions before I did, he made into his son-in-law!).

Lawyering was great also because of what it gave me materially. A house in Wack-Wack, a Piaget platinum watch, a limited edition Panerai, a Mercedes 280 SEL, golf memberships, etc.

I ate at the best of restaurants. Played golf. Skied. Fooled around. I wore bespoke suits made with material from Loro Piana and Zegna. I only wore custom-made Ascot Chang shirts with my monogram. I amassed a collection of over 1,000 neckties.

It was great until I lost it all during the Asian economic crisis. One wrong stupid investment and I was wiped out. I couldn’t run to my parents as dad just died and, besides, I was too proud to ask for help.

I had to sell EVERYTHING. Goodbye house. Goodbye cars. Goodbye club memberships. Goodbye watches. To top it all, the wife ran off with the son of one of the country’s leading industrialists taking my one and only own son with them.

I resigned from the firm and from all those boards which, just a few years back, considered me as their “legal eagle boy wonder’. Unlike Kitty, I couldn’t afford to go to the French Alps. I was penniless. I had nothing except a few hundred thousand pesos, a 2nd hand car, and a Seiko Kinetic watch. I did keep my dad’s gold Patek Philippe which I turned over to my mom for safekeeping (I was actually afraid that I might be tempted to sell or pawn it). I want to leave this to my son.

One day, as I was lying down in bed back in my mom’s house in Forbes, I decided to end everything. No, not my life. I decided to end my dependence in things material.

I took my measly belongings, boarded a plane for a southern province, and decided to start over.

I decided to immerse myself in criminal law to help the under-priveleged. I took on cases nobody wanted to take because the clients had nothing to pay. I was sometimes paid with freshly caught seafood, chicken, eggs, sacks of rice, or, a great number of times, with a smile and a simple thank you.

I learned to wear a barong to Court with no cuff links. I learned to take public transportation to save on gasoline. I learned to eat with just a spoon and a fork (stainless steel with unmatched patterns, no knife). I learned that a tea and scones at Claridge’s is equivalent to 3 months’ income for most people. I learned how to pray. I learned how to give thanks for what I still had. I learned how to look at a person straight in the eye. In short, I learned how to LIVE.

Four years ago, in that Southern province, I met a woman 15 years my junior. She did NOT have the right family name but she was well-educated and a voracious reader. She was a fresh engineering graduate from UP who went back to her province to help. She was the most beautiful and down to earth woman I’ve ever met. Over the objection of my family, we got married (no pre-nup). No member of my family attended. Only my best friend way back from high school attended.

Last year, she got an offer from a multi-national corporation. I also got an offer from an old client to start a BPO.

I am now back from where I came from. Much wiser.

My mom has a condo unit at One Roxas Triangle (the same condo building where “Alexis Carbonel” lives with her new husband James). Mom was offering the condo to me for my use. I politely refused.

We’re now in a rented 3-bedroom in an old condo in Legazpi Village from where I am writing this piece. It’s a simple home. Nothing from Firma. Nothing from Old Asia. No McGuire furniture. No Sub-Zero ref. While we do have a car (a Toyota – courtesy of the office), we walk about a block and a half to Ayala Avenue to our respective office buildings in order to save on gasoline.

We rarely eat out but the wife and I and our 2 year old daughter always make it a point to have dinner together and always with my 15 year old son when he visits us during the weekend.

My only vices are: (i) books; (ii) reading to my 2 year old daughter; (iii) my daily 1 hour telephone call to my son at 9:00pm when we talk for the first 30 minutes and then simultaneously watch “Jeopardy” on Channel 53 at 9:30pm while still on the phone with each other; and (iv) sharing thoughts with my wife. We go to mass on Sundays, pray together as a family before going to bed. I couldn’t be any happier.

A few months back, I was in a simple T-Shirt, jeans, and an old pair of rubber shoes. I was at a mall with my wife on our way to buy some groceries. I see a familiar face walking towards me. It was “Alicia Santos-Daniels.” I smile at HIM and called out his name. He looks at me. I tell him, “It’s me” then I give out my name. He stares at what I’m wearing. He gives me a very faint smile. He walks away.

Earlier, I wrote that AFTER reading “When Chic Hits the Fan”, I immediately said a prayer of thanks. I thanked the Lord from the bottom of my heart that I am FINALLY blessed with a happy life.

Anton, I also prayed for you that, someday, you’ll be blessed with one too..."

now i gotta find her books. damn.