Stockholm Syndrome

When it comes to musical preference, I am what some would call “eclectic”. Although I’m partial to songs that came out around the '80s, saying that it’s my only predilection when it comes to music would be incorrect.

Mamma Mia! movies had been showing on cable and I always watch it every time it’s on. It got me playing my ABBA playlist on Spotify these days that early morning hours in the office are more bearable with the Swedish Pop quartet ringing in my ears.

It may be an acquired taste, but ABBA for me is one of the best acts to ever graced popular music. Benny and Björn wrote great songs and both Frida and Agnetha sang it amazingly well.

I grew up listening to my mom’s cassette tapes of this group so I was pretty much exposed. Mommy said they were two married couples who’re already separated (rumors of partner-swapping actually came out after); why I was told that trivia snippet at the tender age of five or six, I would never know.

For me to remember then who’s married to who—at least when looking at this cassette cover—I refer to the hair color: Brunette to brunette, blond to blonde. Now I know of course it’s Benny (the one with the beard) and Frida (dark hair), Björn (the guy with bangs decades before Beiber even did) and Agnetha (typical Nordic blonde).

L-R: Björn Ulvæus, Agnetha Fältskog, Anni-Frid "Frida" Lyngstad and Benny Andersson

I thought then that I only liked them because of my parents’ influence. It was only when I was in my teens that I realized that my bias had nothing to do with sentimentality or nostalgia—I really think they’re great.

But they are not the Beatles; they aren’t the epitome of cool. So I admit to being a closeted ABBA fan for most of my High School years, enjoying their songs in the privacy of my home where I was with the presence of fellow ABBA fans who will not look down on me for my choice of songs. If for anything, I’d usually sing “Take A Chance On Me” with my younger brother (he’d do the “Take a chance, take a chance, take a-take a chance-chance.”-part).

So I can understand why most people would have their prejudices. There’s the very '70s glam-rock, disco-pop vibe (just watch their music videos on YouTube with them wearing dated polyester pantsuits and platform boots and prepare to cringe). Their choice of instruments like marimba, flugelhorns, tambourine, and maracas was not everyone’s cup of tea. There’s so much hate for ABBA out there you’d think they’re the worst.

It’s no secret that the band broke up in the early '80s; a sad aftermath of their marriages crumbling. By then, punk, progressive rock, synth-pop and new wave dominated the scene while disco-pop/glam rock took the backseat. People who were born after those years naturally weren’t as exposed as I was and didn’t know much about them (except maybe as the group who sang the videoke and gay bar drags staple, “Dancing Queen”).

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Good thing the film versions opened a new demographic as now I can hear the younger generation actually singing and liking their songs. My nephews, for instance, can sing most of their songs even without us forcing them to like it. Gavin finds “Voulez-Vouz” catchy that I caught him singing it. The smaller one, Liam, goes in a trance when he sees the “Mamma Mia!” and “Super Trouper” music videos.

Even then I knew quite a number of ABBA songs even the obscure ones. Some of the not-so-known ABBA songs I unabashedly love include “Love Isn't Easy (But It Sure Is Hard Enough)”, “I Wonder (Departure)”, “Nina, Pretty Ballerina”, “People Need Love” and “Dance (While the Music Still Goes On)”.

I remember watching Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again on the cinema and when “Angel Eyes” was sung by Christine Baranski, Julie Walters and Amanda Seyfried, I found myself singing along with it, quite audibly, that the woman beside me had to ask: “Fan ka `no?” 

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I also thank these movie musical adaptations because it also made me appreciate some of the other ABBA songs I didn’t know or like before. I remember not liking “Waterloo” that much but it kinda grew on me after a while. It was even included in The Martian soundtrack, where there was this scene when Matt Damon’s character, Mark Watney, grumbles on his crewmate's ABBA album.

“I’m definitely going to die up here if I have to listen to any more of this disco music.” — Yet he still plays it.

Many years ago, “Fernando” was a song used by a local candidate with the same surname for his campaign jingle that it became an earworm of some sort. For this reason, I never actually like it (much like “Chiquitita”), but then I loved how super diva Cher performed it with Andy Garcia in Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again (I mean, what could go wrong with Cher?)

Thanks to the films, I have a newfound appreciation for songs like “Why Does It Have to Be Me?”, “My Life, My Love”, “Lay All Your Love On Me”, “I’ve Been Waiting For You” and “I Have A Dream”.

ABBA songs might even be described by some as tacky bubblegum pop but there’s no denying that most lyrics were poignant enough to tug heartstrings—almost melancholic. I read somewhere that it was like that because some of the songs were written just around the time that they were separating, so emotions are pretty raw. Either that or Swedes are sad by nature (How true, Garet?)

“The Winner Takes It All” is an example of such, with lyrics that go: “But tell me, does she kiss like I used to kiss you? Does it feel the same when she calls your name?”— that even if I was listening to this way back when I have not experienced any major, life-altering breakup as of yet, I can very much feel the pain.

Mothers with daughters growing up, “Slipping Through My Fingers” can hit them really hard. Meanwhile, “Mamma Mia!” is something of an anthem for a ‘marupok’ (like me?) as it tells about falling for the same person again despite being cheated on. I mean, it was pretty straightforward on its first few lines:

I’ve been cheated by you since I don't know when 
So I made up my mind, it must come to an end 
Look at me now, will I ever learn? 
I don't know how but I suddenly lose control. 

(BTW, anyone remembers a very young Lea Salonga singing “Thank You for The Music” once upon a time?)

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If I were to be asked to name my favorite ABBA song, I definitely can’t just give one. For me, there is an ABBA song for every relevant feeling there is. The words are so emotionally precise you would wish you have thought of it. The best thing about most songs of ABBA is that even if it was lyrically sad, you just can't help but dance to it. Remember how Meryl Streep sang “Mamma Mia!” on the roof of the goat house in the first movie? 

However, if there’s one ABBA song that struck a chord even when I was younger, it would be “Knowing Me, Knowing You”, which I think was in an album released the same year I was born. (Coming close would have to be “Super Trouper” and “Angel Eyes”).

“Knowing Me, Knowing You” is probably the saddest breakup song for me and I wasn’t the only one who thinks so, as it was once voted as the saddest song ever. Sure, it obviously speaks of marital demise, but there are lines from it that I could totally relate to as the feeling is so familiar: 

Knowing me, knowing you 
There is nothing we can do 
Knowing me, knowing you 
We just have to face it this time we're through 
Breaking up is never easy, I know 
But I have to go 
Knowing me, knowing you 
It's the best I can do. 

Frida did the lead vocals on this one, while Agnetha provided the hauntingly sad echoes, “memories, good days, bad days”. I also love how the guys do the second voice (“this time we’re through, this time I know we’re really through”), which Jeremy Irvine (who played young Sam in Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again) did just as well. 

As I’ve said, it’s all about one’s innate musical taste whether to appreciate ABBA or not. Loving them or hating them is a matter of opinion. One can critique their ridiculously garish fashion (which, from what I read was deliberate to avoid tax), naysayers can go on and on telling us what’s so uncool about them, but to say they aren’t good and deserving of the recognition would surely set off the music snob in me. Prepare to be schooled what rhythm, melody and harmony truly mean in a time when autotune didn’t exist yet and make sure you can argue around it.  

I don’t really judge people based on their musical preference – unless they do the sneering first.

Too soon to let go

People around my age especially the ones who already have their own families often neglect themselves whether on purpose or not. It’s very much understandable that vanity takes the backseat when you have three kids who could drain all the remaining youth out of you. I should know—sometimes just staying home for a day with my two naughty nephews is enough for me to age on a cellular level.

While it’s generally acceptable for middle-aged people who have children to be a bit slack on the looks department for obvious reasons, it’s a different story for us single women in our forties. People will not be as forgiving only because we don’t have any excuse.

I may already be at the age when I give zero f*cks on what people say about me and almost unapologetic about the person that I am, but taking care of myself is a personal choice. After all, self-care is not vanity. Self-care is self-love.

Vanity aside, I try to look good as much as I could. I spend a good half an hour in front of the mirror every morning doing my “rituals”. It isn’t right to go and tell myself that I don’t give a rat’s ass on how I look anymore because anyway, “I’m getting old”.

I don’t want people to look at me with pity and say to themselves: “No wonder she’s single!”.

I take care of my hair—cover the grays if needed, because going “grombre” may look good on some but not on me (and frankly, not on the majority of women).

I may need massive doses of collagen to fight gravity from pulling down my face, but I will not stop trying.

I may unabashedly parade around the house with my tummy jutting out, but I still watch what I eat.

I always had a set of eyebags even when I was younger, but I fight dark circles as fiercely as I could with a good skin routine and enough sleep.

I get a manicure and a pedicure because getting old doesn’t automatically mean Nosferatu nails.

I set an appointment with the dentist twice a year for oral prophylaxis because I don’t want them to think that I’m into chewing tobacco now.

I still wax my legs because I don’t want to be mistaken for a Russian weightlifter when I wear shorts in public.

I know I can’t go out wearing those tank tops like I’m the eighth member of Momoland, but I still want to rock a bodycon dress when I want to.

Doing all of these doesn’t mean I’m trying desperately to look younger or counteract aging. I don’t intend to compete with women in their twenties, hell no. It’s more about looking and feeling good about myself at my current age. See, just because one is getting old, doesn’t mean she had to stop wanting to be attractive.

We all have heard it: “I’m giving up. I won’t fight it anymore!”—people in their mid-forties to fifties just throwing the towel. This was perhaps because they were clinging to how they once were. I noticed this surrender most from people who were actually good-looking when they were younger. They find it hard coming to terms with the fact that they are no longer as pretty or thin as they were.

I have this friend who was once a print ad model and for most of her life, she’s what you’d call beautiful. She enjoyed a fair share of admirers and popularity within her peers.

Not that she’s unattractive now, but since hitting forty, the changes that were gradual then has become so obvious now. She gained weight, her hair started graying and some wrinkles and droops started showing in her face that it threw her in a pit of depression. Now she has told me she’s giving up and letting father time take the wheel. While we are not on the same boat because for me at least, it’s too soon to let go, I understand why she’s conceding.

Looking at my pictures from seven years ago when my double chin is nonexistent can be quite depressing. But while it is what it is, I can’t just do nothing about it. Embracing aging doesn’t mean neglecting how you look because that will be just wrong. It’s more about having a better awareness of yourself and knowing what’s good for you.

So forgive me if I ain’t gonna stop taking care of myself anytime soon. Anyway, someday I will be too old to even care how I looked. Until that day comes, I will try to keep pushing the envelope.

It’s no longer about looking young, but more about still looking good even as I age. 

Going 'loco' over kimono

I don’t know how my fascination started but in just a couple of months, I have managed to collect a piece of clothing that I never even fancy before: the kimono.

While I’m not referring to the traditional Japanese garment worn by maikos and geishas, the inspiration for this casual T-shaped outerwear in different variations we see today came from it.

People at home noticed my sudden penchant for it, especially when they see it’s what’s being delivered at home from all the online shopping I do lately.

Most of the kimonos I own are just short ones that fall right by the hips, often used as a coverup instead of the knitted cardigan, but I also have those that are long enough to go down the legs.

I think kimono should be a staple in every woman’s wardrobe. It’s lighter to wear than any cardigan or pullover. This item of clothing is especially versatile for a tropical country like ours where it’s super cold inside office buildings because air-conditioning is on full-blast but must take off any outerwear once you step outside where it is crazy balmy and humid.

I always go for a laid-back look even at the office where dress codes are not as strict. A kimono can make any simple outfit (jeans or shorts and a plain shirt) dressier and elegant. The material is usually made from silk (but I do have some made of cotton), which is flowy, light and airy. I just love how it feels on the skin. The kimono also works a good cover-up for all those nasty love handles especially if I’m wearing a tight-fitting shirt or dress underneath. Just wear it over any clothes and it instantly hides all those unsightly bulges. 

What can I say? Daisukidesu!