In a scene worthy of a Darryl Yap directorial debut, Imee Marcos emerged triumphant as the 12th senator—barely, but gloriously—clad in what she solemnly declared was her father’s decades-old polo barong.
The nation gasped. Not at her victory, but at the garment: crisp, blindingly white, and suspiciously wrinkle-free, like it just escaped the steam press of history. Experts in vintage wear raised eyebrows: “Jusi or piña cloth doesn’t age like that—unless it’s embalmed like Apo himself!”
The fit was off too. If that barong was really her dad’s, then Ferdinand Sr. must’ve moonlighted as a malnourished fashionista.
But perhaps this wasn’t about clothing authenticity—it was symbolism! A soft launch for 2028? A message to BFF Sara Duterte: “Move over, girl. Tita Imee’s got next.”
Whether it was laundry magic or legacy cosplay, one thing’s clear—Miracles in Malacañang now come in starch and satin stitching.
Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fiercest of them all? Vice Ganda, of course! Known for his knack for transforming the ordinary into the outrageously extraordinary, Vice’s wardrobe is less about fashion and more about performance art. Whether draped in feathers larger than life or donning an outfit that could double as a UFO landing pad, Vice doesn’t just dress to impress—he dresses to dominate.
Why settle for subtlety when you can wear a chandelier on your head? While his co-hosts try to steal moments of glory, Vice, in his sequined capes and metallic bodysuits, hogs the spotlight with such audacity that even the contestants, co-hosts and fellow actors are left wondering if they’re the side act.
It’s not just attention he’s after; it’s the center of the universe. With every outfit screaming, “I woke up like this—fabulous!” Vice proves that normal is overrated and extra is everything.
Ah, Aicelle Santos—singer, selfie-taker, and apparent connoisseur of controversial fashion.
Netizens were aghast when she donned a terno that looked like it had survived a fight with a lawnmower. Did she run out of fabric? Perhaps the ghost of Imelda Marcos snatched her sleeves mid-sewing.
Then, as if her outfit wasn’t trending enough, she struck a pose on Malacañang grounds—a place where, ironically, she once vowed not to tread. From staunch anti-Marcos critic to “selfie queen ng palasyo”, Santos served us an all-you-can-eat buffet of irony with Malacañang Christmas goodies on the side. Hypocrisy? Opportunism? Or just pure artistic expression? After all, nothing says “I’ve moved on” like basking in the glow of power’s gilded halls. It’s the season of giving, and Santos gave us the best gift yet: a reminder that principles, like terno sleeves, are sometimes optional.
The Adobo Chronicles 
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