They could have pranced all night ...

Only for that day, they will play dress up to the nines. The moms who blog and lunch and farmtown together, who whisper deep dark secrets to each other, and attend each other's kids' birthday bashes. Only for that one day, they won't be drudges nor grunges but rather hot mommas on the run -- but only on cam.

Both Chats and Cookie wore their dreamy wedding gowns. Chat's was off shoulder, off-white, minimalist (her word). Cookie's was a spaghetti-strapped, lightly embroidered number that couldn't by any stretch of the imagination be called maximalist. Each married ten years (more or less), they seemed to have defied the years as they fitted easily and flawlessly into the flowing white dresses they wore on the last day they were maidens. They were so pretty one could almost cry.




Cess, slender as a whisper, looked like a girl going to her first prom in a half black, half psychedelic outfit that showed off her waif-like, almost pre-pubescent-like figure and sweet countenance.

Noemi stirred excitement when she announced she was coming in the Pitoy Moreno gown her mom passed on to her but changed her mind for reasons she didn't explain. She was nonetheless glamor and sophistication personified in what she settled for -- her silver wedding anniversary outfit. A maroon, off-shoulder, gown with a darling sparkling side accent.


Anna showed up in a two-piece burgundy ensemble. Snug. Sleeveless, backless, strapless. Audacious for someone well past 60 and who for 30 years considered it unchaste to wear anything more revealing than three-fourths sleeved and sabrina-necked blouses. But what the heck, what did she write "In Another Dress" for?


At professional photographer-blogger Mike Yu's residence-cum-studio at Bel-air Village, Noemi, Cess, Cookie, Chats and Anna posed and preened and pranced and strutted, as Mike gave out directions: "smile," "ok, look serious," "now, act wacky." He was generous with his "greats" and "nices" and "perfects" as he clicked away.

The ladies also pranced in informal outfits and costumes and props they thought represented the themes of their personal blog sites. Chats was the quintessential Fitness Doyenne as she posed in jogging pants and sports jacket, while Cess sat for the camera wearing the uncanny combination of shorts and tees and angel's wings, a subtle symbol of what a young, stay-at-home mom ought to be to stay afloat and keep sane.

At one point, one of the ladies fretted: "Oh, dear, we are all dressed up with nowhere to go?!"

Nowhere to go?

But didn't they go to "town, " a metaphorical town ? -- and painted it red, had the time of their lives, behaved like dorks or divas (take your pick), did something they've never done before except perhaps in their imagination, and did it with all the flaire and elan and bravura they could muster? Mike thought they were "naturals." "Natural for what," it didn't occur to any one to ask.

Perhaps this is one of the late-life adventures the most senior of the ladies subliminally foresaw when she wishfully subtitled her ode20ld blogsite "THE BEST IS YET TO BE." It should be right there ... along with her bucket list of visiting Bohol and Batanes, of writing a book, of walking in the rain, of drinking one too many, of picking her neighbor's rosal flowers when the neighbor is not looking.

How did the blogging moms end up in Mike's studio, making like one-day celebrities? Blame it on the stars maybe. Better still blame it on Noemi who moves with Mike in bloggers circles. Blame it on Noemi's penchant for dragging along her barx when she gets exciting invitations like Mike's.



Yes, Mike Yu, who is between photographing stints abroad, has been taking photos of bloggers for several months now for his Bloggers Gallery project. Before the end of the year, he plans to gather and showcase the photos into an exhibit.

(Mike, we all feel lucky to have been photographed by you and perhaps make it to your exhibit. Thanks and hugs to pretty Bambi who wielded her magic brushes and combs to transform us or at least for trying to, while engaging us in her charming chika. )

P.S. Wench, you missed the adventure, and what an adventure. Rolly, thanks for "... as a whisper."