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This is the blog of Ian Rosales Casocot. Filipino writer. Sometime academic. Former backpacker. Twink bait. Hamster lover.
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Bibliography
The Great Little Hunter
Pinspired Philippines, 2022
The Boy The Girl
The Rat The Rabbit
and the Last Magic Days
Chapbook, 2018
Republic of Carnage:
Three Horror Stories
For the Way We Live Now
Chapbook, 2018
Bamboo Girls:
Stories and Poems
From a Forgotten Life
Ateneo de Naga University Press, 2018
Don't Tell Anyone:
Literary Smut
With Shakira Andrea Sison
Pride Press / Anvil Publishing, 2017
Cupful of Anger,
Bottle Full of Smoke:
The Stories of
Jose V. Montebon Jr.
Silliman Writers Series, 2017
First Sight of Snow
and Other Stories
Encounters Chapbook Series
Et Al Books, 2014
Celebration: An Anthology to Commemorate the 50th Anniversary of the Silliman University National Writers Workshop
Sands and Coral, 2011-2013
Silliman University, 2013
Handulantaw: Celebrating 50 Years of Culture and the Arts in Silliman
Tao Foundation and Silliman University Cultural Affairs Committee, 2013
Inday Goes About Her Day
Locsin Books, 2012
Beautiful Accidents: Stories
University of the Philippines Press, 2011
Heartbreak & Magic: Stories of Fantasy and Horror
Anvil, 2011
Old Movies and Other Stories
National Commission for Culture
and the Arts, 2006
FutureShock Prose: An Anthology of Young Writers and New Literatures
Sands and Coral, 2003
Nominated for Best Anthology
2004 National Book Awards
Follow the Spy
Recent Crumbs
Blogs I Read
© 2002-2021
IAN ROSALES CASOCOT
Thursday, August 21, 2008
9:54 AM |
Fashion Design, Pinoy-style
I want to like
Project Runway Philippines. When you're a great fan of the U.S. original, a local incarnation
has to be part of your TV viewing life. And I do like it, albeit grudgingly and with an allowance for tolerance. There's drama
naman -- put a bunch of attention-craving flamboyant gay men in a room, ask them to compete, and then watch sparks fly -- and some of the contenders do have a great eye for fashion, notably excepting the
lola who was cut first and had no business being there in the first place. I do try to watch the weekly installments. But what's with the horrid lighting that makes everyone look cadaver-pasty? What's with the barriotic-looking
SoFA that looks like a spiffed up version of a baranggay hall? What's with the echoing runway made obviously of plywood that booms with Teresa's every step? What's with the drab production design? What's with the barely-there editing? What's with the
pulot-sa-palengke models? And what's with the zombie music (by Diego Mapa) that absolutely refuses to insert some much-needed thrill into the segments? If you remember, in the original, the music -- the fashion soundtrack and the dramatic segues that herald each pronouncement by Heidi Klum -- is a great part of its appeal. Here, it sounds like a monkey just had his way with a keyboard.
The overall impression: a galling undercurrent of cheapness -- like the vomitus Nesvita "colors" they lavishly draped over all the last episode -- that has absolutely no place in fashion television. And the judges, by the latest episode, look like they're all so tired and would rather be somewhere else. Jojie Lloren, with his cringe-inducing bangs, is no Tim Gunn who cuts elegantly both as a critic and as a mentor. Rajo Laurel is okay, but has yet to grow into the gravity that is Michael Kors. I can't say anything about Apples Aberin without rolling my eyes. This is our Nina Garcia? I told Myrza I'd rather see her as one of the judges. She sent me a smiley over text.
Labels: fashion, television
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