Rich talk

Rich talk | Daily Tribune

Scrolling for inspiration for a column topic, I chanced upon Becca Bloom, who had me hooked with her new year closet purge. Out of two massive suitcases, she pulled out items she was planning to send for resale or donate.

“First, I’ve got the Kelly To Go because I accidentally bought two,” she coos. “And I bought this to go hiking but that didn’t end up happening,” holding up a ludicrously pink backpack that surely won’t pass for a hiker’s bare essentials.

I thought: Is she for real? So I clicked on her other reels. I was mesmerized. Not by the open window to a world of sheer wealth, but by her utter unselfconsciousness about whipping out items worth a year’s salary for some, and a lifetime of saving for others.

She has no idea of the other side of life, I thought. Does that make her nasty? Do we judge her like the “nepo babies” in our midst, with their billionaire parents of dubious reputation?

Rebecca Ma in real life, this “queen of RichTok” grew up with billionaire parents who built a fortune in tech. She considers caviar “a little snack” and goes to comfort her friend whose goldfish died, but not before showing her OOTD of black Chanel, Louboutins, and a croc Kelly. “I wish I was making this up,” goes her note on the post.

Becca Bloom is a product of her upbringing, her sphere, her world. Her family spends on Hermes like it’s ice cream, and yet when she shows us her latest shopping haul, we do not cringe as we did at the sight of those orange boxes stacked in a certain house in Valle Verde.

No, we did not howl at the sight of her giant luggage full of expensive gear being wheeled away by her husband, who turns to look at the camera to say, “I feel like Santa Claus.” Not like we did at those massive mismatched hard cases lined up in someone’s garage somewhere in the Philippines.

If anything, this American influencer of Asian descent lets her followers see how the “other half” actually lives, without the pretensions of the suddenly rich.

I cannot imagine this charming lady being invited to the NBI office, let alone wearing head-to-foot interlocking capital Gs. “My mom is forcing me to get rid of these because they’re full of logos,” she said of a couple of designer coats.

People, I think, don’t generally resent other people’s lavish lifestyles. But they mind — no, they are furious — when they know it all came from their taxes and from funds meant to improve their quality of life. That’s when it hits the gut harder than several days of hunger pangs.

So when the President says he vetoed a few billion from the trillions in the latest proposed national budget, it is hard to feel comforted or assured. Not when we have seen the shenanigans long happening in just one department of government, and not when we know that the system that has allowed such corruption to flourish is still there.

We don’t hear resolve in those words promising that every peso will serve the Filipinos when we know that a few had indeed been “served” very well — 20, 30, 50 percent over the rest of us who have to survive with the measly scraps left over. Are we to ignore the constant abuse: business class seats for them, “mamatay” class for the rest?

The average Pinoy is getting tired of the same old promises. A local vlogger working in BGC one night in December took a video of his long walk home to Pasig because he could not find a ride.

He had to trudge miles on foot to get home because our public transport system still leaves a lot to be desired. As he walked over a bridge and along badly lit side roads, he ranted about how living in the Philippines had become harder to bear.

Perhaps one day, we will see a political purge, the kind that will make us believe the new national budget is truly the “cleanest one ever.”