i once entered a contest where the prize was five pairs of shoes. i had to write a short essay on why i loved shoes, so i simply wrote one sentence: "my mother's name is imelda." i didn't win. if i had the gumption i would've just written the lyrics of victoria williams' song. anyway, i digress. imelda marcos has come to embody a lot more than a love of shoes but the whole idea of excess, which has its own term: imeldific. to give into that excess: imeldafication. like when you jonbenet out your kid for a party, or when bling out your accessories wardrobe with last year's murakami. too much and too wrong but completely irresistible. oh, and mostly unironic.

a documentary by ramona s. diaz, imelda, opens in select cities the first week of june. reviews seem generally favourable, but in the interest of being fair and accurate (which is so against everything imelda) it's not exactly a campfest. i haven't seen anything ms. diaz has done, but i'll bet she's mostly unironic. although the movie has a great tag line: "thank god, when they opened up my closet, they found shoes, not skeletons." snort. i'll be in honolulu the week it opens, so i'll let you know.

oh you'll love this link:
the wit and wisdom of imelda marcos