A fashion show is a beautiful battleground of look-at-me creations, a glittering night of shimmery gowns and chic apparel, high heels, and makeup—all in colors that meet and harmonize.
Last week’s Kasuotang Pilipino Fashion Show 2019 called “Banyuhay,” sponsored by the City Government of Makati and its Museum and Cultural Affairs Office, was another conclusive push to increase awareness of the splendid heritage of the Philippine attire.
Kasuotang Pilipino, to its credit, has let us share a journey of wonder and discovery, made us understand, get us in close connection to our roots and exceptional legacy.
Philippine apparel is a cross-generational fusion of ancient wear and Western influences, a blend of past and present.
During the period from the 10th to the 16th century, our ancestors dressed in styles according to the region’s climate and their proximity to neighboring Asian countries. Men in the northern part of the country wore loincloths, also called bahag or G-string, made of colorful woven fabric. They were shirtless, with primitive tattoos covering their upper body. The women were either topless or wore dresses similar to a robe.
Men in Luzon wore a kanga shirt without collar which was later adorned with lace, buttons, and a collar. This new styled kanga later evolved into the present day Barong Tagalog. The women wore baro’t saya, consisting of a blouse (baro or camisa), a folded piece of cloth worn over the shoulder (pañuelo), and a short rectangular cloth (tapis) wrapped over a long skirt (saya). The saya had different checkered patterns which signified one’s wealth.
Visayan dresses were an influence of Indonesian and Malaysian robe called marlota. Men complemented their clothes with a headdress called putong.
People in Mindanao had the more intricate style of the Muslims—colorful and laden with complex beadwork and jewelry.
The terno dress, Imelda Marcos’ “uniform” as the world saw it, had its own evolution to move with the times. By the 1800s the bodice of the baro was hand-embroidered and the sleeves became bell-shaped. The tapis was made of pinya or muslin fabric. The saya still came down floor-length and ballooned into a wide bell shape.
During the American occupation, the terno changed into a more modern style—bigger sleeves and narrower skirt with a long train (saya de cola). In the 1920s came what we know today as the butterfly sleeves and the baro’t saya became terno, meaning the same or of matching fabric.
In the 1940s, Ramon Valera’s single-piece terno with butterfly sleeves, band at the waist, ankle-length, and zipped up at the back, was the new image.
One of the ways to measure people’s ethnic and cultural fidelity is through its national dress. Filipino designers have come up with fresh innovations to explore our history and redesign it, cross our many diverse cultures, their sophistication, and spin and connect them, but without the threat of sameness in interpreting the aura of chic.
Banyuhay Fashion Show 2019 was a collaborative attempt to integrate our nation’s ancient spirits into a renewed and more avant-garde awareness of the beautiful convergence of the various island groups and their intrinsic moods.
The night of the fashion show was a sure-fire crowd pleaser—it was impossible to look away. Rhinestone glitter. Satin brilliance. Silver and golden threads. A riot of rainbow colors. Fantastic embroidery. Fabrics that shimmer at each model’s sashay. Clothes that looked at once simple and ornate.
At night’s end, Makati City’s fashion designers got the recognition for their talent. We all await this kind of spark each year.
Photos by Diana B. Noche