When Imelda first entered the Palace, she told the press she had found the place too dark and gloomy and the children were always running back to Ortega those first few weeks. She led the press ladies at a fast trot through Malacañang that January noon, opening doors on dismal rooms and drab closets, keeping up a running commentary on the poor ventilation, the lack of hot water, and the colorless bathrooms.

Characteristically, she began by renovating the bathrooms, and in a few short weeks, she had transformed them into oases of fragrance and color, rich with frills, signifying the presence of a woman in the house. There was no budget for such repairs, and she made do with donations of tiles and fixtures. Then, descending to the storerooms, she ransacked around for old furniture. Period pieces were brought up, cleaned and refurbished. It was while foraging here one day that she discovered a huge, oval-shaped table, cut all of a piece, used in Quezon’s time. She would not rest till it had been refinished. It stands today in the family dining room.

When news leaked out that she was redecorating, friends sent gifts of antique chairs and tables and these, together with her own antique collection, were scattered all over the Palace. She put away the old Greek pieces in the music room and installed her own in the alcoves; rare china and Steuben cut glass. Stumbling upon a carved almojadera in the executive offices, she had this duplicated and, stacking both with records, she put them behind her little desk in her private study, just off the music room.

When she was through, the Palace was hardly recognizable.

“What (used to be) a mirror of foreign elegances has today become a showcase of Philippine culture. The Palace…is in the grip of synthesis. Native inlaid bureaus and marble-topped tables have appeared among the French chairs. A bedside table is lively with ivory santos and a cabinet reveals a dazzle of baroque basins and chamber pots from the 17th and 18th centuries. (The Palace) has become a museum of Philippine art and artifice. Even the social hall downstairs has lost its basement look now that its walls are jewelled with Philippine paintings. In the hall leading to it are a large oil by Hidalgo (his famous Governor with Friar) and a cabinet that displays native pots and beadwork alongside dug-up Chinese ceramics.

“The copy of Luna’s Blood Compact, on the stairway landing, no longer shines alone. It has been given company, both old and new. Indeed Malacañang is where you can get the best panoramic view of genius: the genius of the Filipino as artist. The corridors overlooking the interior courtyard have been turned into an art gallery that’s a history of Philippine painting—from its beginnings in iconography to its latest.

“This art gallery was created by the First Lady from her private collection and in it Imelda Marcos graphs today’s advance from mere nationalist interest in artifact to an informed taste in art…”

She also transformed three Palace suites.

She did not spend very much—the textile factories had given gladly, and so had the rug and cushion makers, proud to be asked to help beautify their Palace.

Then when her personal portraits began arriving, she hung some in shadow, and some where they startled, above stairwells and along corridors, and one where she looked as she must have in Tacloban 15 years ago, provincial and sweet, she put in the President’s private study.

In one portrait, she seemed to float across a yellow field, a wraith in red, heading towards a mist. Shielded by a parasol in another, she stood pensive beside a nameless river; in still another, she was caught in a spot of sun, withdrawn yet regal—but the whole woman eluded many, for it was a woman who walked now where had echoed, a hundred years ago, the cries of halberdiers drilling below; warm, the woman beneath the lovely shell, passionate and generous, with a huge appetite for life. She herself would describe it: gusto, she said of her nature. “I bare my heart all the time. I know I shouldn’t, but I have a gusto for life—I dance with gusto, eat with gusto, work with gusto…

She began by sponsoring art shows, right in Malacañang where previously, wrote a columnist, First Ladies “had surrounded themselves with couturiers and kitchen cabinets, lending their presence to dignify and glamorize Malacañang rigodon and fashion shows.” Too long had Malacañang been closed “to the artists, the writers, the painters, the sculptors and musicians (who were) abandoned like santos…in bodegas.” In Magsaysay’s time, the masses had had their day. Other administrations had lionized, variously the interior decorator and the hair dresser, but never until Imelda, had the Palace doors been open to admit artists and scientists. Now with her maiden interest, the country looked forward to a wider acceptance of the artist and his role. By offering him a cup of tea, Imelda had heralded the artist’s arrival.