Shiloh Nouvela

At a recent wedding reception in Swisttal, Germany, a black-clad Monster looked pensive and withdrawn as she drank from a glass of supiciously amber-colored liquid. Meanwhile, husband Trog was living it up on the dance floor, gyrating to “Like a Prayer” with two lovely ladies — a statuesque blonde from Switzerland and a petite London-based Vietnamese. Sources close to the couple report that Trog downed glass after glass of expensive champagne.

Later that weekend, Trog was clocked on the Autobahn driving at speeds in excess of 160 kph, notwithstanding a clear speed limit of no more than 120. Worse, Trog was apparently chatting on his mobile phone, in blatant violation of German law. If caught, Trog could be fined up to EUR 200, more than the average Filipino’s monthly income.

Was Monster drowning her sorrows in a glass of German beer? A spokesperson for the lawyer claims that Monster drank only non-alcoholic beverages, but would neither confirm nor deny rumors that she consumed two servings of the rum-laced cream dessert. If true, this means that Monster would not only be ingesting alcohol; she would also be eating far in excess of her 2100-calorie recommended daily intake.

Despite best efforts to hide her bump with an apple-green silk scarf from Vietnam, Monster appeared visibly pregnant as she was spotted strolling down the steps behind the cathedral in Cologne, Germany. Shockingly, the fifteen-weeks pregnant lawyer, 32, was sipping what appeared to be a Diet Coke — failing to heed expert warnings about the possible effects of caffeine on her unborn child.¬† Perhaps the caffeine accounts for that agitated expression.

The bump’s father is Monster’s husband Trog, 37, not a lawyer. This is Monster and Trog’s first natural child. They are also parents to Lucas, 2, adopted from the Cabbage Patch.

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Trog and Monster are off to Stockholm today, and have opted for matchy-matchy pooh-pooh:

Trog:

• Usual hair, glasses
• Brown long-sleeved button-down shirt from H&M
• Brown jeans
• Red v-neck cashmere sweater
• Brown jeans
• Camel corduroy blazer
• Distressed brown Skechers sneakers
• Burberry scarf
• Plaid newsboy cap

Monster

• Hair ironed, worn down, center parted, with two clips
• Red glasses
• South Sea pearl earrings
• Brown long-sleeved Zara shirt
• Red v-necked cashmere sweater
• Red belt
• Brown plaid Filippa K slacks
• Red boots
• Cream corduroy blazer from Banana Republic
• Distressed brown newsboy cap
• Brown paisley scarf

Waiting for R to get back to the Philippines and post her photos before I write the long entry about my Belgian adventure. In the meantime, here’s a genuine photo of European aristocracy:

And some mussels from Brussels:

Heading to Brussels in a couple of hours. Here is what I packed:

• 1 pair of Rock and Republic jeans (used to be indigo, but now slightly faded)
• 1 red AE Outfitters turtleneck
• 1 black cashmere Banana Republic turtleneck
• 1 long-sleeved Benetton button-down shirt (blue and white striped)
• 1 grey cashmere v-neck Banana Republic sweater
• 1 little black Laundry dress
• 1 pair chocolate brown pajama pants
• 1 chocolate brown tank top
• 1 pair Kenneth Cole evening pumps
• 1 pair red beaded slides from 168
• 1 pair brown Havaiana flip flops

(and here’s the kicker)

• 1 wedding dress

Seriously. TG wants N to photograph me in my wedding gown. Posing artistically among her huge paintings, looking all dramatic and stuff.

All hail conquering Trog, pheasant hunter extraordinaire! He just returned from a two-day trip to Merrie Olde England, where after shooting 240 rounds and bruising his shoulder he managed to kill two dozen birds, four of which are lying in our (now working) freezer. The rest of his kill is en route to Belgium for transformation into pate.

And what does the well-dressed man wear while shooting at birds? I’m glad you asked.

Trog wore thermals; thick wool ski socks; waterproof khakis; a green and brown plaid shirt; a maroon wool Laksen sweater (it had his name on it!); an oilskin jacket; a maroon scarf; a tweed hunting hat. And Trog wore a pair of Viking hunting boots, the most expensive pair of shoes he owns, now with authentic mud from the fields of Kent.

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Trog the Gatherer also brought home some duty-free perfume for his lovely wife, who’ll now smell really nice while she learns how to pluck and gut and cook the bloody kill. Hrrmph. Trog gets to live in a Jane Austen novel; I’m stuck in Little House on the Prairie.

Pheasant adobo, anyone?