Even
as a third world despot in diapers, Imelda had the disposition of a royal
tyrant. Growing up poor(ish) and in the shadows of Malacañang Palace I would use my majestic beauty and devilish whiles to
lord over other chitel.
I’d
regularly commandeer the communal penny farthing (for official State business)
and cycle along the banks of the Pasig River (This was in the days before the Pasig
was polluted by the stench of desperation and hopelessness). Gliding along the
waterfront I’d imagine what life would be like as a royal princess.
With the winds of
destiny moving me forward I’d dream of holding court with the wealthy, fleecing
the middle classes and taking to the poor with my imaginary buggy whip. What a splendid
vision of insignificance I must have been.
After my mother
was called home to Jesus, papa moved us back to the province of Leyte, where I was forcibly subjected to the tedium of middle class
life.
Being South East
Asia in the 1930’s, Asian eyed imperial role models were few and far between.
Madame Mao was another decade away and it would be another 40 years (and a
decree of martial law) before Imelda would be crowned despotic royalty. So self-assured, I prepared for my accent to greatness by studying
the incestuous genealogy of European royalty.
This study was fine and dandy
but it meant nothing without minions to terrorize. Events came to a head on 2nd June
1953, when Princess Elizabeth, wearing a pair of custom made Roger Vivier gold
leather kidskin sandals, became Her Majesty Queen
Elizabeth II.
Vivier had
inlaid the heels with rubies (chosen as the stone to symbolize the union
between the Queen and her subjects) and the upper was inspired by the
fleurs-de-lis that decorate the St Edward Crown and the Imperial State Crown
worn by the Queen for this occasion. The most beautiful shoe one had ever
seen.
Imelda was beside herself with
indignation. Gawd DAMN! Hadn’t I just been crowned
Miss Manila, where were my custom made Viviers with a hidden platform designed
to reduce the instep and maintain comfort?
Vivier’s shoes were so alluring that
I set in motion a chain of events that would eventually, according to the
haters, become my downfall.
In 1965 when I became First Lady
Elect of the Philippines I made the call, “Bonjour Mr Vivier, this is Imelda Remedios Visitacion Romualdez-Marcos, wife of Filipino
President elect Ferdinand Marcos, I’d like to order my coronation inauguration
shoes”. The Philippines is a former Spanish colony so my French was a little Peppy
le Pew. Vivier’s rapid-fire tirade might have sounded all baguettes, escargot
and ohon ohh but I was smart enough to translate “you buy off the shelf”.
HELLO! WTF, it’s not like I’m the Queen of Toga
(ftr, that bitch was 6ft 3 inches) and I don’t do prêt e porter!
It would be another 7 years before
I spoke to Vivier again. It was the lead up to declaration of martial law.
Knowing that I was on the verge of becoming the consort of a tyrant and thus
the pseudo Queen of the Philippines, I picked up the telephone.
Over the past 7 years my
French, like our Swiss bank accounts, had vastly improved, but again Vivier
locked me out of my dreams, "It's the shelf, or nothing!" he said.
And so…born from the wrath of
the great Vivier was the Despotic Queen of Shoes and her infamous obsession with shoes.
To this day Vivier causes Imelda the
night terrors. He taunts me with the unobtainable - The shoe money can’t buy!
But
now thanks to Imelda’s humble shoe blog, the ruby heeled sandal is on the other
foot and the House of Vivier has come to Imelda.
This
morning I rose from the crypt to be greeted by electronic correspondence from
Monsieur Frisoni. “Bonjour Imelda. I ‘ave created zee new capsule range of
shoes inspired by the shoe famously created for the coronation of Elizabeth II”
I’m
all ears…
“The
dream or the idea of a Princess becoming Queen is pure magic!” said Frisoni, “For
Roger Vivier, participation in this event was a maestro’s stroke. Tied in to
this extraordinary event came a revolutionary creation, launched by a platform
slipped inside this shoe.
“Imelda”
he whispered sexily (what? Imelda can dream can’t she) “do you like the
collection? It was inspired by the rich colours of the precious stones adorning
crowns and jewels”. Ohhhh Bruno I thought, if only you could see Imelda’s crown
jewels and precious stones, the best that money could steal.
I’m
now a desolate Queen basking in her former glory. Instead of wondering through
the desert like a Jew without a Navman, perhaps I need to believe in Frisoni’s ‘pure magic’. After all, how bad can 'off the shelf' be?
