I have always been amazed by the uncanny ability of certain women in our society to flaunt their anatomies, feed their egos, and waste money while maintaining a reputation for class and projecting an image of caring for the indigent.

The latest manifestation of this strange ability is the "State of the Nation Fashion Show" planned and executed by a bunch of parlor pinks deep into radical chic. This pseudo-event received pictorial coverage punctuated by the semi-orgasmic oohs and aahs of your Corito Fiel who showed that she would be undistinguishable among the most sycophantic society columnists of the pre-martial law press.

The saving grace is that this gushing piece was published in lieu of the three (!) movie-and-entertainment columns that incongruously have a place in a magazine that promises a scrutinous (sic) inquiry into reality.

And I can’t quarrel with the placement of this article after what has to be the most tasteless portion of your magazine. Were it not for Ms. Fiel’s byline, it would look as if Mr. Maurice Arcache had merely written a little more drivel than usual, dropped a few more names than usual, and drooled a little more saliva than usual.

TERESA TORREFIEL