It was a shock to hear of Zenaida Rustia Tantoco’s passing. I have only recently learned to call her Nedy, on her request. It was quite a challenge to wean myself off the tendency to always address her formally, calling her Ms. Tantoco. Nedy was a force for good. Being the eldest daughter of Rustan’s founders Benny and Glecy Tantoco, she smoothly took the helm of the family that pioneered luxury retail in the Philippines when her mother passed on in 1994.

She was in every way a woman on top—as a retailer, philanthropist, patroness of the arts, champion of culture, loving mother, and grandmother. Other than being on top of the Rustan Group of Companies (RGOC), a diverse portfolio of business interests mostly engaged in luxury lifestyle, of which she chaired the Rustan Commercial Corporation, SSI Group, Inc., and Rustan Marketing Corporation, she was also part of the Cultural Center of the Philippines board of trustees from 2002 until her resignation in 2021. To Nedy, there was no such thing as too much on your plate. Like her father before her, she also helmed the Philippine-Italian Foundation for many years, the longest serving ever, since she was elected president in 2002. She had many other passion projects, including the Tantoco-Rustia Foundation dedicated to social upliftment.

Alas, at 77, Nedy passed at 11:42 p.m. on Feb. 8. I didn’t know until the morning after. It’s been very busy since the start of the year, even busier for me than it had been in December, but our plan was to see each other before the “new year” got old—“Let me treat you to lunch at the Pen Lobby, my favorite space,” she wrote in a message she sent me on WhatsApp.

Alas, that won’t happen anymore. I won’t be getting messages from Nedy in the middle of the night, sometimes even at 2 a.m., like when we would collaborate on a project, which she would start with “If you are resting na, just read tomorrow” or “this is meant for when you wake up.”

There are many more things I’m going to miss about Nedy. She was always top of mind when I would do forums, getting people in leadership positions like her, Ramon Ang, Teresita Sy, Andrew Tan, Ben Chan, Lucio Tan, and Robina Gokongwei, to put in their two cents on any topic, whether it was Christmas, the pandemic, or what a good wish could be for a new year coming up. Once I asked her, along with the others, what her favorite Filipino word was and her answer was, “‘Sige na.’ It’s friendly persuasion.”

I don’t remember what my other questions were through the years or what she had in mind when, at some point last year, she told me, “You always give me the hardest questions, Arnel! Let me think hard,” to which I would reply, “Sige na,” the Filipino equivalent to “pretty please.” “Sige na” was not her favorite phrase for nothing because, no matter what my question was, she would always have an answer.

Christmas would be tough this year, without Nedy giving me a call to remind me about a get-together coming up at Rustan’s, which often served me as a signal that the Christmas rush had begun. In most years, the get-together would be held either late in November or very early in December, just before the Christmas rush. Last year was special, a season-opener that involved the public, the first in many years because in years previous it would always be an almost-private affair with just the Tantoco family and select members of the lifestyle press.

Christmas at Rustan’s has been a tradition for me, both personal and professional. Toward the end of 2024, I will have observed this Christmas tradition for 30 years, ever since I met Nedy and her family in 1994!

In Nedy’s passing, Philippine culture has also lost an ally. She was a staunch supporter of the Filipino talent, instrumental, for instance, in bringing the Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra (PPO) to the prestigious Carnegie Hall in New York. In recent years, she funded many CCP undertakings, including the opera productions of Giacomo Puccini’s Turandot and Donizetti’s L’Elisir d’Amore and Lucia di Lammermoor. She was a master at raising funds for cultural causes, such as for the purchase or repair of instruments necessary for our talents, such as those showcased in the PPO, to shine on the world stage. In a country, where the arts are not a priority, she believed that cultural enrichment was a form of people empowerment, as good a route as any toward peace, progress, and prosperity.

Although it is a trove of treasures meant for men, women, and children, for work or play, Rustan’s, with Nedy at its helm, is for the most part a family affair, especially on special occasions like Christmas. Her treasured family on those occasions would be as present, whether physically or in spirit, as everything the department store and the other businesses under RGOC have to offer—her brother Rico and her four sisters Menchu Lopez, Marilou Pineda, Marilen Tantoco, and Tokie Enriquez, as well as her sons-in-law Jun Lopez, Eddie Pineda, and Renato Enriquez.

Also ever present would be her partner Patrick Jacinto and her three children Anton, Michael, and Catherine, her daughters-in-law Nina Herrera Huang and Kathy Yap-Huang, her son-in-law David Endriga, and her grandchildren Nikki, Bellee, Kenzie, and Kameron. Once, during a light moment, Nedy told me about a secret social media account named after one of her beloved dogs Sabrina, Tricia, Tessa, Katlinka, Skippy, Bocelli, and Tequila that she used to keep “so I can read what you write on Facebook and Instagram,” as she put it to me with a wink.

Always, always, Nedy would tell me, and anyone who would inquire about the 72-year history of Rustan’s, about her mother Glecy and her father Benny. “My parents traveled the world and had this desire to make the Philippines a part of the global retail village,” she told me. “My Dad and Mom, they were bonded in love and also with this vision. They almost enjoyed synchronicity when it came to making business decisions, my mom supplying the creativity and my dad
the operational skills.”

Nedy, in her post as head of RGOC, ran and nurtured the business like the family, of whom she was considered the matriarch. She was uncompromising in upholding the values with which her parents built the enterprise from scratch, the values she kept sacred to impart to the current and future generations, the values which allowed her to live the life we now honor and celebrate—full, responsible purposeful, accomplished, meaningful, and beautiful.

When I asked her last year what she wanted for 2024, she said, “I wish for the Filipino to find strength in diversity, harmony in differences, that will lead to a collective path toward a brighter, more sustainable future. Here’s to 2024 filled with progress, compassion, and the enduring warmth of the Filipino spirit!”

You have led the way, Nedy. With hope, we follow.