The Low EQ Kid

Within 24 hours from my Prada Lust post, someone posted the dream wallet on instagram. Of course I immediately made inquiries. Kororo pleaded with me to exercise my better judgment, and said that since I’m going to Europe, why don’t I just buy it there for a much cheaper price? I told him I will sleep on it.

The following day, I finalized the sale. I know, I’m so hopeless. But I actually made a list of the reason why I am buying it, and guess what, the list convinced me:

• The Europe trip dream gets murkier the closer it gets to the dream-departure-date.
• This particular model does not always go on sale. Even if I get to Prada Space, there is no guarantee that I will find this exact model there. I probably might end up settling for something close, and then regret about it.
• I checked the Prada E-store, and it was selling for practically the same price (if you factor in the shipping costs to a US destination).
• Is it mere coincidence that I blogged about this exact Prada wallet a few hours before it was posted for sale in instagram? No! The universe is listening and it wants to make my dreams come true. 
• I was never the kid who waits for the second marshmallow. I eat it the moment it lands on my plate. And my marshmallow is here!

Of course, as in most online transactions, my biggest concern was the authenticity of the item. I trawled the internet for any information vouching for the authenticity of the items of the seller or DesignerBagsManila. Had multiply.com still been around, I probably would have found some. In this case, I just took a leap of faith. I hope to have it authenticated by a friend who works in Prada Greenbelt, but to this day, I have not been able to bring it to her (I know I should get it done already). The seller, who was very nice, did concede to a money-back guarantee if the item was proven fake.

So anyway, I am going to do an unboxing of the Prada Saffiano Zip Wallet (Model 1M0506), because…well, I used to look at unboxing articles, and I swear, my heartbeat quickens as the bag/wallet slowly reveals itself.

The paper bag. Should I be worried that the embossed Prada logo is not centered? 

The box that will change my life (i.e., leave me financially distressed).

Almost there.

Finally! You're mine!

The envelope containing the authenticity card.

I was a bit disappointed to find that the zipper pull is made of the same material as the wallet. I think I expected a metal pull, in gold. But I checked the model online and it's the same zipper pull. *breathes a sigh of relief*

Eight card slots. The smell is heavenly. My brother says it smells like dried glue haha.

The authenticity card, back and front. 

DesignerbagsPH (instagram) gave me a receipt :)

I am happy to have it. Thrilled. Ecstatic. Delirious. But I also tell myself this is probably the last piece of luxury I will allow myself to own. I was with relatives the other day and I found myself consciously hiding my wallet from them. In fact, if anyone asked me, I was prepared to say it’s a fake. You see, if we have a house crest (okay, sigil), frugality would have been the first word engraved in it. It does not matter that I can already afford it. I will be crucified if they find out how much I spent for a measly wallet.

Besides, I have to admit my Prada does not fit in my lifestyle. I go to our cooperative canteen, brandishing it, and ordering “Isang munggo po, tsaka pritong tilapia…ay kalahating munggo na lang pala  (kulang na pera, naibili na  ng Prada)” And every time they hand me my greasy lunch, I have to be extra careful that no sauce spills on Prada. God, so stressful. I wish I can just get a plastic protector for it, like the ones you get for ipads and iphones. 

My Prada, trying hard to blend with my usual fare of fishball and sago't gulaman.

Paalam, Tita Norma

My aunt, Tita Norma, passed away on 18 June 2013, at the age of 62. She is a mother of 5, and the only sister of my mom. I was not particularly close to her, because we were not really given much of a chance. And most of our relatives don't take her seriously, mainly because she is a chatterbox. She loves to talk, but she does it so repetitively, and most of it were her personal woes, it does get tiring after a while.

Tita Norma at the St. Bartholomew Church for final blessing.

As my mom points out, Tita Norma was not so lucky in life. Her husband abandoned her, leaving her to raise five kids on her own. She was not able to hold a regular job, despite being a college graduate. Yet she managed to send her kids to school, and all five of them finished college. 

I have a confession to make, something I should have asked her forgiveness for. When I was in college, I used to take a bus from Samar to Manila (my mom is so frugal, she would not let us take a plane). A few minutes before the bus was supposed to leave, Tita Norma dropped by the bus station and asked me to bring a bag of dried pusit (squid) for Tita Edna, because apparently, it was a Samar delicacy that Tita Edna loves. I refused her, saying the squid was not properly wrapped, and I don't want to arrive in Manila with a bagful of stinky clothes. Besides, there was honestly no more space in my bags. She relented, and just asked me to send her regards to the relatives in Manila. 

Of course, as the bus drove away, I realized what a mean girl I've been. Tita Norma does not have much, and god knows how she scraped that money to buy those pusit. But she is the kind of person who never let her poverty get in the way of doing good, especially to relatives. If someone in her family celebrates a birthday, she would make sure a plate of pansit finds its way into our table. 

From that day, every time I see Tita Norma, I feel like I am always trying to make up for that bus incident. When I started working (and earning), I would make sure I slip some money to her. She would of course furiously refuse it, so you have to be firm. When she lived close to us, I bought her a box of biscuits because being diabetic, I know she has to frequently eat, in small doses. I am not a very patient person, but I stretch the limits of my patience whenever she tells me her stories and her family problems. Because really, it is a very small price to pay for the slight I did to her on that bus. 

Traffic at a standstill, as the funeral march makes it way into the church.

When I left home, my sister Pop would do the same and buy her a can of biscuits and give her money every now and then. Later, I would hear how Tita Norma treasured those little acts of kindness. She told Bam (my brother's girlfriend) that she kept that box of biscuit close to her, and when she feels lonely, she would hug it. And she would show her wallet, saying the money inside was given to her by Pop, etc. And she would always tell people how grateful she is to my mom, because without my mom, her kids would not have finished college. It probably was only half-true, but again, that's just the kind of person she is. Someone who never forgets a good deed done to her. 

On the day I learned that she died, I am filled with regret because I know I did not do enough for her. I had the opportunities, surely, but I did not take them. I suffer the same regrets as those who do not know how to love: I always thought there would be more time later. 

During the eulogy night, my relatives shared how religious and prayerful Tita Norma is. She goes to church practically every day, and does not forget to offer mass for every birthday or death anniversary of our family. One time, she went by our house several times to remind us not to miss mass that day, because it was a holiday of obligation. We still somehow forgot and prepared to leave for the mall. As we were waiting for a ride at a corner street, she suddenly sprung behind us and demanded to know why we're not heading for the direction of the church. It was a funny moment.

Every morning, she would pick flowers from the gardens of the neighbors. We were afraid the neighbors would start complaining. Tita Norma would then offer these flowers at the altar at home. As my Tita Edna points out in her eulogy, who among us in this age still appreciates flowers? Tita Norma did, and it may well be that her appreciation for the mundane beauty of this world that she was able to care and love despite her sufferings. 

Aaron and Royce bid farewell to their aunt who looked after them like a mother, as was her promise to their late father.

Rest in peace, Tita Norma. We will all miss you.

Prada Lust

My instagram feed consist of 90% designer bags from re-sellers. And this is why I always start my day lusting after purses I know I could never afford.

And the moment I get to the office, I would open my laptop and surf on how to find the cheapest designer bag in Europe. Well, just Prada actually. I see a lot of LV bags on my feed, but I could never bring myself to like any of them (but perhaps I can make an exception on the Neverfull, with my initials on it). Prada, on the other hand, has a certain pull. That black saffiano with the gold details - it looks like we're meant to be together. You see, I have this dream that I will be in Europe next year and I have in fact been saving for it (although at the rate my savings are going, it looks like I can afford Europe after 20 more years). And once I am in Europe, I would head straight to Florence, and take a train/taxi to Space, the Prada outlet. I have read so much on this that I know I can get there with my eyes closed. I even memorized the train schedules. I know the moment I get there that I should get a priority number from an odd-looking metal machine (because you won't be allowed to buy anything if you forget to get one). And yes, don't forget to get the number of the cab driver because it's difficult to get back to the train station.

I can even picture it in my mind, how my dream bag and I would meet. The doors of Space would open (with dramatic music in the background) and my dream bag would reveal itself to me. In my dreams, it looks like this:

Or this. I'm not too picky.

But I will not leave Italy without getting this wallet. I have been lusting for this since I saw one from my officemate. And then another officemate got one, and another officemate got one in pink. I was half-hoping one of them would get tired of it and sell it at an absolutely ridiculous price (i.e., the price I can afford). 

But I already resigned and changed jobs, and 5 months of unemployment in between did not of course improve my dismal financial situation. Oh but here I am, still dreaming of Europe, and that wallet. Never mind that my eleven year old car is screaming for retirement. I can always take a cab to work. And never mind that in my new work, I can no longer make rampa in court or where else, and show off my bag. I can just stare at it at night, in the privacy of my bedroom, and hug it to sleep. And this is probably why I could not bring myself to get married. Because I have not felt for any man the passion I have felt for a Prada bag. Chos!

Farewell, Grey Wind

Game of Thrones decided to starve us for a week, so I've been hearing more buzz than necessary on Episode 9. It looks like the GOT nerds guessed right, the Red Wedding is up. Like the chopping of Ned's head in Season 1, Episode 9, and Blackwater in Season 2, Episode 9. 

So I am watching Rains of Castamere prepared: I lined up my chocolates and re-runs of Modern Family and The Big Bang Theory to offset the anticipated depression that the Red Wedding would bring. And I promise to give extra hugs to the direwolf of House Hernandez, in honor of Grey Wind. 

Lord Commander of the Night Watch with Tita Pop

We assure you we trained Porfie to honor and observe guest rights. Just make sure you ask for bread and salt first.