Initial shock
At a popular KTV bar in Makati, I made a song request which apparently was not on the menu.
“WTF do you mean it’s not there?” I asked, genuinely alarmed. How can one of the most popular songs in karaoke history not be there? Without Total Eclipse of the Heart, was it even karaoke?
The day was saved by a staff member, who calmly tapped “T” then “E” on the touchscreen,– and voilà—there it was. How was I supposed to know they used initials in this place? I guess I should have; after all, it is a KTV.
Initialisms, as I discovered, are different from acronyms in the sense that the former are spelled out, like OMG, BRB, or TGIF, while the latter form new words, like LOL, YOLO, ASAP, or FOMO. Crossword favorites like “scuba” (self-contained underwater breathing apparatus) and “laser” (light amplification by stimulated emission of radiation) are fine and witty examples of acronyms.
Governments and international organizations love this letter economy. They coin terms that roll off the tongue and stick in the brain: SONA, PAGCOR, MARINA, WHO, UNESCO. Some acronyms are so famous, people sometimes forget what they stand for: UNCLOS, NASA, NATO, ASEAN, APEC, UNICEF, OPEC, FIFA. They work especially well for branding—easy to say and remember, plus they save a lot of space on the side of a building.
But I digress.
In the digital world, initialisms are practically currency. OMG, TBH (to be honest), and IMHO (in my humble opinion) may be common, but there’s also BRB (be right back), TTYL (talk to you later), and the evolved Pokémons of LOL: ROFL (rolling on the floor laughing) and LMAO (laughing my ass off). If you want more niche entries, there’s SMH (shaking my head) for moments when IDK (I don’t know) seems too forward, ICYMI (in case you missed it), and the ever-honest TL;DR (too long; didn’t read).
Academia is notoriously proud of its initials. The US has NYU and UCLA from coast to coast and a host of other unis in between—this makes for good name recall and fewer letters on sports scoreboards.
The Philippines has its own lettered royalty: UP, AdMU, DLSU, UST, SBC, for instance. Some even have nicknames—UP Los Baños a.k.a. “ElBi,” because why waste words when you can sound cute and insider at the same time by giving initials a local spin?
Corporations are equally smitten. Global giants like IBM, CNN, BMW, GE, BBC, and HSBC have turned their initials into brands worth more than the GDP of developing nations. Locally, we’ve got institutions such as BPI, BDO, SM, PAL, and SMC. These names are short enough to fit on the side of a pen but large enough to plaster across entire skylines.
I won’t even discuss medical initials—they only remind me of the tests I need to have done—or gaming, which can be too geeky for comfort; or porn, which is un-PC from any angle.
Instead, I’ll delve into monograms. Unlike acronyms or initialisms, monograms are decorative arrangements of letters to signify taste, status, or just a fondness for owning things that say “This is mine” without using actual words.
This reminds me of a man who preferred to have his initials stitched along the cuff of his shirts, like flashcards in cursive. It screamed bespoke, but was also a bit kitschy for me. He was a walking model for YSL scents, whose idea of weekend wear was a BOSS polo paired with CK denims instead of the great jeans of AE, and D&G loafers to finish the look. It was a good combo, but considering his age, it just screamed D.O.M.
In fashion, monograms comprise a universe of its own: Dior’s repeating CD, Prada’s triangle logo, Loewe’s looping quadruple Ls, Versace’s Medusa motif, and Hermès’ H that could probably fund a small country.
And of course, Louis Vuitton’s LV—the gold standard of monogramming—which for some time now has been more closely associated with tita chic (just ask Jo Koy), i.e., old ladies toting LV bags (whether they’re the OG from the Champs-Élysées or Class A from Greenhills) than to Lalisa’s very public romance with Frédéric Arnault, the son of Bernard Arnault, billionaire CEO of LVMH.
From the MET Gala to Coachella, from Fashion Week to the BAFTAs, the continuing popularity of these brands prove they are not just letters, but talismans of style, shorthand for heritage, and occasionally, an expensive way to remind people you didn’t get it from Amazon or Shopee.
Pop culture has its own alphabetic playground. LOTR (Lord of the Rings), GOT (Game of Thrones), and Arnold’s Netflix hit, the military-born FUBAR (f@*$ed up beyond all recognition).
In the old days, we had M*A*S*H (Mobile Army Surgical Hospital), CHiPs (California Highway Patrol), and S.W.A.T. linking the past to the future of TV: CSI, NCIS, FBI. If you notice, the military and law enforcement are quite fond of initials and acronyms, too.
Even authors occasionally join the fray: Agatha Christie’s The A.B.C. Murders, Sue Grafton’s “alphabet” series, and Roald Dahl’s The BFG (Big Friendly Giant), which Spielberg turned into a movie in 2016.
The music industry won’t be outdone, with my boys leading the pack—BTS (Bangtan Sonyeondan), ELO (Electric Light Orchestra), RHCP (Red Hot Chili Peppers), TLC (acronym for their nicknames T-Boz, Left Eye, and Chilli), ABBA (the initials of the members), and our own MYMP (Make Your Mama Proud).
Letters, whether in initials, acronyms, or monograms, are little cultural time capsules. They condense sprawling ideas into a handful of characters, signaling everything from the weight of an international summit to the mood of a meme, from the pride of a school to the gleam of a luxury brand.
So when you find yourself at a KTV near midnight, panicking because your song “isn’t on the menu,” remember that sometimes, the fastest way to what you want is through the shortest form possible.
