Sam Oh — Forming the Letter ‘Oh’

She was hunched over at a corner table of the Mexican diner, sipping her post-yoga smoothie. Spy-eyeing the plastic cup, one sees that it’s strawberry, but she will prove to be much sweeter in the succeeding minutes (incidentally, sometime even later, during one of her free-association jibes, she will inadvertently compare herself to citrus fruit).

Article by Aldus Santos
Photography by Dix Buhay
Styling by Mara Reyes
Make up by Ria Gamboa
Hair by Dimple Callada
Shot on location at Victoria Court, Pasig

Her pretty, angular face renders her open, almost welcoming, and, when her mouth cracks to a smile, it is like there is no hunger and war in the world. She met my extended hand more than halfway through, like there was an unspoken politeness sprint and she clearly wanted to emerge the victor. “Honestly, I find it really uncomfortable being interviewed. When you’re being interviewed, essentially, you’re talking about yourself—and it’s not my favorite thing to do,” she greeted. For a media celebrity, Sam Oh has her feet firmly on the ground. “I’m a little flabbergasted realizing that people actually want to know more about me,” the Korean host added, sounding almost embarrassed.

Clearly, “sexy” for Sam Oh is an array of things. Truth be told, she would be the first to mark herself a “fail” in the Class of Sexy. She thinks her legs are “like tree trunks,” and she seemingly concedes to being inferior, looks-wise, to the rest of glitzy showbizdom.

The body, of course, is a holy thing (and I mean that in the least Biblical sense). In varying stages of undress, there are varying levels of sublimity. Almost like a person—nay, a beautiful woman—is a piece of fiction waiting to be stripped off of invention. Indeed, the real lies beneath, where there are potent truths waiting to be told. In an ideal world, these truths are meant to be unearthed in private, like in between loving partners perhaps. The trade of male-oriented literature is redefining this privacy (reading, after all—barring perhaps bedtime stories between parent and child—is a selfish endeavor). But Sam, who has appeared in at least two “sexy” pictorials, still can’t put her finger on it. “I don’t think I’ll be going the bikini route again. It’s really just not my thing,” the host shared, alluding to her previous print appearances that were, in her mind, quite racy. In these pages you are now glossing over, Sam is relatively more covered, and she is sporting the come-hither look requisite for erotic photography; yet, somehow, one senses her humor still brewing within. “I actually find photo shoots the hardest thing to do,” she continued, helping herself to her shrimp bisque and shrimp taco salad in between sentences. “People think—‘Oh, you’re a model; you just stand in front of the camera looking pretty.’ Not true!”

Clearly, “sexy” for Sam Oh is an array of things. Truth be told, she would be the first to mark herself a “fail” in the Class of Sexy. She thinks her legs are “like tree trunks,” and she seemingly concedes to being inferior, looks-wise, to the rest of glitzy showbizdom. “I can’t believe you have looks-denialism,” I told her. “Well, don’t get me wrong; I think I’m freaking awesome!” she countered with just a pinch of sarcasm. “But, really, I think my thrust in this industry has the least to do with the way I look,” she added. She was in athletic bikram-yoga chic, and, despite her bubbly exterior and no-frills fashion, Sam Oh remains a class of sexy all her own. She casts the opposite sex in a different light as well, and, to her, “Passion is sexy. I love it when I see a guy in his element, and he’s going ape-shit. Like he’s just so passionate about something and he’s so in the zone and he does not give a rat’s ass about anything or anyone around him. That is, like, the sexiest thing,” she said, adding, “Of course, it would be much sexier if he was, like, in a band rather than an accountant.” How Sam manages to deflect attention away from her is no big mystery: she is selfless, and sensitive enough to ask first before speaking. In this short exchange, for instance, she has managed to ask as much questions as this writer did, if not more. “You know why several people came to your thing?” she asked, referring to a little shebang this author organized. “No, why?” I asked. “Because I told them to, during my show,” she said, referring to the music-and-freeform-chat program The Sam Oh and Gibb Show over at RT. “Thank you, Sam.”

Her ethnicity (Korean, by the way—pay attention!) has been the subject of fetishism, thanks (or no thanks) to Sandara Park and the ten-thousand koreanovelas currently airing on primetime television. When she landed her first hosting gig after winning a contest, as a matter of fact, someone was quick to tell her, “Buti na lang you’re Korean, ‘cause they’re so uso now.” Sam was taken aback. After all, wasn’t it her quick wit and onstage banter that won these people over? No matter. Sam, however, would be the first one to challenge the use of such hip catchphrases as “The Korean Invasion” to describe this phenomenon. “It doesn’t sit very well with me, because, you know, Korea was invaded by the Japanese, and when you say ‘invasion,’ that’s the idea I connect it with,” she passionately argued. “What would you call it then?” I asked. “I suggested ‘The Korean Bombardment’ once, but I guess ‘bombardment’ is not right either,” she said hesitantly. ‘Influx’ was also thrown in, though it doesn’t have that ring that “invasion” or even “bombardment” has. Whichever word floats your boat, I guess. And anyway, Sam Oh (who was born “Sang-Mi Oh” in January 16, 1980) has been in the country ever since she was six, and she has acclimated well, and is as Filipino as you or me. “What’s the most Pinoy thing about you? I’m sorry I have to ask all these inane questions,” I advanced. “My heart,” she said with a straight face. “I’ve always felt more at home in Manila than I think I ever will back in Korea, although, in both countries, I always feel like I’m a little bit out of place.”

Funny, if you think about it, since her ease is palpable in her numerous incarnations, most notably in her stints with ETC and QTV. The ease is not always real, though, she said. In one of her event-hosting gigs where she was slated to interview Nigel Barker (the model-photographer from America’s Next Top Model), she dropped her cue cards in the toilet bowl (yeah, yeah). These days, however, Sam is more likely to shrug off any sort of mishap—cue cards in toilet bowls or otherwise—because of bikram yoga, which has positively affected the way she views her body. In bikram yoga, the practitioner does a series of poses in a heated room (105°F/40.5°C), hence its moniker “hot yoga.”

Yoga for hot people? I don’t know—in the same manner I can’t decide between invasions and bombardments.