Meeting a renowned Pinoy designer, Michael Cinco, was the highlight of my nth trip to Dubai last month. He is so unassuming that I almost forgot how famous he is. Some of his A-list Hollywood clientele include Lady Gaga, Beyoncé, Jennifer Lopez, Kylie Minogue, Mila Kunis, Paris Hilton, Tyra Banks, Rihanna, Toni Braxton, Fergie, Nicole Scherzinger and Christina Aguilera.

Michael’s regular clients are Anne Curtis, Marian Rivera-Dantes, Kathryn

Bernardo, Liza Soberano, Ruffa Gutierrez and Bea Alonzo.

Miriam Quiambao and I immensely enjoyed bonding with Michael. He treated us to an authentic Lebanese dinner at the resto below his plush condominium right across the world’s tallest building, Burj Khalifa. Kudos to Michael for being the only Filipino designer who was invited to present his collection at the Paris Haute Couture Fashion Week’s “Couturissimo,” held last July 3.

He’s world-class yet down-to-earth. That makes him all the more remarkable. Pinoy Pride is something Michael wears so well. CincOoh la la! (Visit michaelcinco.com.)

Here’s my chat (via Facebook) with Michael:

What was the Paris Fashion week experience like?

About 15 years ago I was strolling along the beautiful Jardin des Tuileries. I was so in love with the place that I had a vision and a dream… I said to myself, one of these days I’ll have my show in this stunning garden. So when Asian Couture Federation approached me to have a show in Paris, I immediately begged to hold it in Jardin des Tuileries. Showing my collection in Paris Haute Couture Fashion Week has always been my ultimate dream. Seeing your collection on the runway of your dream garden is one of the greatest achievements in my life.

Among local celebs, who are the five best-dressed on your list?

Marian Rivera, Anne Curtis, Cherie Gil, Kathryn Bernardo and Liza Soberano. They all wore my couture dresses and they all looked amazing.

Any memorable moment with the celebs?

To be honest, I never met any of them. I dressed up some of the most beautiful Filipino Celebrities and Hollywood celebrities wore my clothes on the red carpet and in their music videos. When the producers of the movie “Jupiter Ascending” asked me to go to London to meet Mila Kunis and Channing Tatum, I declined because I was too shy to meet them. The stylist of Jennifer Lopez asked me to meet her backstage. Also, the manager of Kylie Minogue asked me to go to her room for fitting but I just sent my assistant because I was scared and shy.

Who is the easiest celeb to dress up?

Most of them are easy to dress up because they all look fabulous in my couture dresses.

What are your three fashion do’s and don’t’s?

Do’s: Be yourself; create your own style; wear something that will make you feel confident.

Don’t’s: Don’t wear a dress two sizes smaller than your body; don’t follow someone else’s style; don’t try to achieve what you see in glossy magazines—they are all photoshopped!

If you were asked to design an outfit for President Duterte, what would it be like?

A bullet-proof couture barong.

What’s your advice to aspiring designers?

Young designers of today should realize that fashion is not all about glamour. The fashion world is very cruel. You will be judged, criticized and rejected.

It takes hard work, patience and strong determination to achieve your goals. Create clothes that people will wear. If you want to create art on clothes, make sure they will sell.

Lastly, be humble and never give up. Believe that anything in this world is possible. Believe in your dreams and if you have faith and confidence in God, all of your impalpable dreams will come true.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses

The jukebox plays that old time swing
What a wild sound, a jumping fling
I've got it bad today, a fever for you
Think of us, when I'm feeling blue
Sinatra say that having it bad,
Well it ain't good and I'm so glad

So when I'm down and out, I'll turn you on
That old timey jazz, for me it's the only one

Art Tatum I'll turn you up loud
Swanky Szabo, amasses a crowd
Slim Gaillard, that crazy sound
Teagarden's trombone all around
Mingus and Ayler, Rollins and Miles
Dalindeo and Niechęć all those styles

I'll dance the moonlight serenade
and these hepcats, will never fade
Dry up daddy-o and focus on sanity
Sonny still struttin' with such vanity
Wayne Shorter quartet on a starry night
Jazz has me goofy but feeling alright

I've been feeling grummy for far too long
Remedied with an old Billie Holiday song

Try to pick up a girl,
I get called a pervert.
She's ******* dressed,
I mean, just look at her.

Say she looks beautiful,
compliment her hair.
She says I'm thirsty,
so she "curves" me,
I'm out of here.

They think we're pigs,
because we try to show we love her.
All they want is Efron,
Tatum, Franco, Lautner.

They live in fantasy,
separate from you and me.
What are they waiting for?
Your prince isn't coming girl!

They're crazy.

I try to be the nice guy,
instead I'm told to go home.
Next time I see her,
she's put me in the Friendzone.

She likes an *******,
tells me I'm a ****.
But isn't he,
the same as me,
nothing I say works.

They get jealous,
'cause we talk to other girls.
I'm in her Friendzone though,
why does it concern her?

They live in fantasy,
separate from you and me.
What are they waiting for?
Your prince isn't coming girl!

They're just delusional!

Just the other day I saw you.
Same nike shoes, ray ban glasses....
New haircut, looks nice.
But I just cant help myself from having flashbacks
I remember walking, talking with you. I...
I remember.

I was thinking about us, thinking about me, thinking about us. Whats it going to be?
Opened my eyes and realized it was just a dream
A dream that would remain dead and cold ,and anything but a a reality.

But that was back when it took 5 seconds to need you
Channing Tatum to leave you
and a phone call to make my day.
I remember. I remember.

But tell me why did you have to make things so complicated.
Make something so ugly than what we made it?
You remember the canvas of colors that we painted
that you out of carelessness painted gray.
I refuse to let something so small affect me in a big way.
You gotta understand thats why I let it slip away.

It's funny how three words "I love you" can hold a big meaning yet be said without one.
So, let these next seven words be that you remember.
We are never ever getting back together.

She is just wow
One I’m thinking ‘bout now
And in subsequent moments
I know she’s around
Won’t forget what she sounds like
Tenacity sweet
And I can’t even speak
Save for when our eyes meet
I’m replete with
A million dumb things I could say
But I don’t overthink it
Just let her hit play
And convey with precision
Her smile,
Her laugh,
Is my only sole mission,
My finalized draft

What comes after
Departure
From my life beyond
Overwhelms me with dread
But she will not be gone
From my head
From my heart
Mark my words
She lives on
And I cherish her memory
Dearest along

The despondent,
Impending,
Oblivion
Vast
That ensues
In her passing,
Impels me to grasp
Desperately
At her fading,
Pervading
My wavelength
I’ll still be here waiting
Delighted,
Enamored,
Ignited
I’ve stammered

To pair with her,
Share with her,
How hard I fell
As if Icarus plummeting
Under her spell
Like an elven enchantress
Divines how my mind
Will respond to the message
And mirror the vibe
Redefines what attraction
Exaction
Could be
In totality
Even the world
Less than she
Means to me

/brandon tatum is one of two guys
I'll probably never have a beer with...

past the already generous helping
of *****, all that's left
of me is a pickled chilly...

hot in the head, soft in the groin,
and somewhere in between:
levitating limbs...

hard not to regress back to tribalism
ploughing through former efforts
to establish the beacon
of nations, denationalised,
or rather, demonarchised...

but back to the transcendental menu...
OK OK, past colour,
"imaginary" borders and...
globalisation means a freedom
of the movement of goods,
id est from the cheapest to...
and the robbing of talent...
for the good of the ominous populace
subermged in a tsunami
of apathy...

you can play the race card,
which is a black privilege...
couldn't tell me apart from a German
a swede or a Lithuanian...
when asked, I always own up
to being german...
a fetish like latex like any other...

playing the race card is like playing
the joker card
from a deck of cards
    that have set rules not established...
namely taking a joker card
from a deck of cards,
that consist of only joke cards...

see, I can merge into the zebra
concussion of a hunting lion,
that collage of hiding the biologically
weak, or intellectual prone to arson,
every,  single, time,
when asked on the British Isles
I joke with Indu Irish mongrels
about pedigree...
and am never a Pole, but a German...
Old Saxon,

I can chameleon the rest of the conversation,
for no greater good,
nor for any minute ill;
motto? sami, swoi...
   back where I was born I play
the tourist card, in central London
I play the country boy card...
                    in Essex I play the feral card...
in Paris I played the mute's card...
             the rest of other people's antics
seems ****,  and monodimensional...

you can play the poker card
only when using a deck of cards
with four kings, four queens, four
jacks etc.,
   the persistent commentary reflects
a sort of people, playing the joker card,
using a deck of cards
that constitute of only jokers...

       it's not even a boredom,
but the tedium of the lost surprise,
at least with boredom you can
finally attach a comfy chair to your ***
and admire a sunset...
but with a tedium of lost surprise...
the persisting mosquito biting...
like almost everything in film these days,
of fiction,
post-plagiarism ...
        namely that the viewer
     already knows the plot,
he knows the plot because the plot
is so disengaging and has been so blatantly
repeated that guess-work takes over
waiting in suspece,
playing the startled suspect...
alas, dear Watson...  

and poetry can hide behind
overt technicalities,
literary bureaucracy of an Ikea
put-together manual,
       less botanical I agree,
and it can hide behind an Antoinette
corset... came pride & prejudice,
ergo? must have come:
  POMP & CIRCUMSTANCE...

    25ml of ***** makes no sense,
kosher glug from the slit neck of
a bottle, might make me look like
a *** rabbi... but at least that's
a 50-70ml range of question,
followed by an apple-mint chaser...

I can appreciate the transcendental
menu of nation ethnicity etc...
but this headache came crashing
in on the grounds of St. Thomas'
non-canonical gospel...
      can't exactly transcend grammar...
on a blank doesn't mean it's
within confines of a formal / informal
conversational structure...
          on a blank i have a pink
elephant tugging the godhead
of flies by the name of Belzeebub...

             I can forsake all tattoos
and heritage...
        maybe these trans...
whatever you call them,
could do something productive,
become bilingual...
   and riddle in fractions
a movement away from Greco-Latin
etymology the words of germanic /
slavic roots, at hand,
with no clear etymology?

          guess work schlang...
pick n mix... a gamble...
          given whatever die zeitgeist...
roulette vocabulary...
          there was a time and place
with imagingy friends...
too many technical words in
the vocab. system,
      much akin to niche, planet U-2398v4...
noun category exhausted...
    came the yawning void
recycler...
                   this movement akin
to the political class of PiS...
    or the grieving twin...
                                
      it's almost funny how this should
be debateable...
       imagining the solipsistic world
of the upper echelon of the medical
profession... a surgeon denounces
title Dr. and by Herr is merely addressed...
like shouting past the gates
of Tartarus...
                            
                        ­  yet this debate
has gained public interest,
if not public demand, if not a civic
seriousness...
      in times when laws are past
frivolously, do many eyes turn away
from law itself, in search for
more frivolous affairs...
upon Samson's and upon Atlas'
hinges the crumbling world,
once more decided to spin
into amnesia...
     yet some perverted act,
unanswered lodged into
                    Alzheimer glitching...

by law itself I mean: orthodox
jurisprudence...
                    a return to
oculus per oculus logic,
not the turn the other cheek
rose blushed cought with a hand
lodged in the cookie jar...
   the more frivolous laws are
passed, the more of a joke
inacting genocide becomes;
and it becomes, and it becomes...
and this: the diabolical ferment,
a god as weak as not dead,
is a god that still believes
in the historically immune man...

already having missed the mark,
scared of a needle puncture,
craving fetish of a machete cut...
     such frivolous laws...
while the titans stand over
such establishment with neither
tear nor suffocated laughter...
brooding in the alchemy of shadows
a scheme worthy
of the daughters of Brahim,
the mistresses of puppeteering
as guided, by their mother Karma.