Love, Loss and What I Wore

It's a fairly universal concept that in every part of the world, the women speak the same language: love, loss and clothes. Or shoes. Or bags.

On a Friday night, and with no tickets on hand, my friend and I trooped {in blue suede heels, nonetheless} over to RCBC's Carlos Romulo theater, with hope that a) there were still tickets and that b) that this play was not to be a disappointment. After all, I haven't had a decent Friday night in a long time and what better way to reclaim it than a warm one and a half hour about the men in our lives, how black will always be the new black, what our mother say about the things we wear and what we actually wore.

Here's the thing: I never forget what I wear. Especially on days when milestones happen, on days I meet the most interesting people, on days I fall in love, on days I get heartbroken. Some years ago, I have said goodbye to a man I loved in a blue summer dress that plunged in the neckline, a borrowed pair of caramel heels, a whiff of a new bottle of Marc Jacobs' Daisy and newly manicured fingers. I forget if it was in Sex and the City that I heard it, but apparently I am not the only one. Most women have this syndrome, too. Not only that, I realize that just like you and me, women all over the world has a story to tell for every handbag she's bought {on sale, or not}, for every little {yet another black} dress she's gotten from the rack, for every pair of heels she's tried on and rang at the till. That, and that I can never ever feel good if I am not wearing something I like. I lose all sense of balance and calmness with a wrong choice of what to wear on a normal day. Unfortunately, this is true.

The Row - Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen
On a normal day, this is a longer version of how I choose what to wear.
That's right. It's a very long process.

Speaking of Sex and the City, my friend mused that the Friday night show of Love, Loss and What I Wore resembled an SATC premiere. As I surveyed the waiting area, I couldn't help but agree. Every two feet is a woman clad in a carefully chosen outfit, some you can tell are off to someplace else after. Some, you can tell have survived the Friday corporate grind, some had perfectly coiffed hair and matching orange Hermes and orange Melissas. Some had brought their {probably clueless} boyfriends, some had their girl entourage in tow.

Love, Loss and What I Wore is a motley of stories as told sometimes in unison by Jay Valencia Glorioso, Menchu Lauchengco-Yulo {whom I remember from her amazing acting in Next to Normal and sort of kept distracting me with her toned arms and overall elegance}, Cathy Azanza-Dy {who also directed the play}, model Teresa Herrera and the amazing Bituin Escalante, who was able to pull off an Indian and Latina accent.

Originally a book by Ilene Beckerman, the play spotlighted stories that are all too familiar, all too relatable that you will find yourself laughing, teary eyed then laughing again. There was a story about one woman's fascination with boots, of being in love with a guy who wears boots all the time, one woman's tale was about staining a newly-upholstered chair, one of sharing a secret smile with her lover as she visits him at the jail in a trench coat, caramel thigh-high boots and nothing inside. I howled in laughter as the five women took turns in saying out loud musings on the topic of The Closet --- I have nothing to wear! Where is my black dress? I bought this?! Why did I ever buy this?! I can't find anything!? Or the subject of The Purse and how we can put our entire lives onto it and yet never find anything when we have to. Or the subject of Madonna. While I never really had to go through the stage of dressing up like the Queen of Reinvention, I was howling with laughter as they recalled how they dressed up as the Desperately Seeking Susan Madonna, or the one in Christian Lacroix cone-shaped bra. Plus they emerged in a Vogue dance number, too, which I and my friends usually do. 

Did it matter that it was an American play shown in an Asian city? It didn't. As I walked away from the auditorium, I couldn't help but smile and laugh occasionally as I think that we all speak the same language {us, girls, that is}. We will never not care about what we wear, we will always mourn for the loss {of a loved one, a memory, a chunk of our time, a part of ourselves} and that love, no matter how much we turn away from, will always, always find its way back to us. And that through these all, a girl will have a special dress to go with it, a pair of shoes {heels or otherwise}, a bag that may or may not need waterproofing, to celebrate, or commiserate for it. That a girl, a woman, a lady will never trade being the fairer sex if only for all these.

I recommend this to anyone who is in want of the feeling of a sleepover with the girls, while eating ice cream, talking about bras, Sex and the City or Devon Sawa.

This exceptional Asian premier of Love, Loss, and What I Wore is produced by CTE Productions. It has a one-weekend-run-only this July 14, 15, 16 and 17 at the RCBC Theater in Makati. Shows are at 8 p.m. with Saturday and Sunday matinees at 3:30 p.m.

Tickets are at Php1,500 for orchestra center, Php1,200 for orchestra side, Php1,000 for loge, and Php500 for balcony. Tickets are available at Ticketworld at (632) 891-9999 or You may also call (632) 215-0788 or (+63917) 537-8313 or email Look up CTE Productions on Facebook for more updates.