This Aklan-born, London-based designer celebrates everydayness of Philippine heritage at Bench Fashion Week
Wear it like the sweater vests in Tórshavn on the Faroe Islands. Put it on like the sari or the dhoti in Mumbai. Wear it like the paj ntaub that the Hmong still wear in Hanoi, Vientiane, Chiang Mai, or the highlands of China. Put it on like the shalwar kameez, which is still worn in Punjab or in Peshawar.
Though we are rich in traditions in the Philippines, we’re not as traditional, at least not in Manila and other urban centers. Centuries of exposure to other cultures, such as those of the Spanish and the Americans, not to mention millennia of interaction with Arab, Chinese, Indian, and other traders, have woven a rich tapestry of foreign influences into the way we live, love, laugh, eat, and dream, and that’s not a bad thing—we’ve always had a sense that there’s a bigger world out there, beyond our shores, beyond that point where sea meets sky on the horizon.
This is what I had in mind as I walked into the closing show of the three-day Bench Fashion Week, featuring a collection of Aklan-born, London-based Filipino designer Lesley Mobo, at the Bench Tower at Bonifacio Global City in Taguig.
Half an hour before the show, as the Playground filled up, with no less than Bench founder, Suyen Corporation executive director, and retail tycoon Ben Chan welcoming each arrival garbed in a liberal interpretation of the dress code listed on the invitation as “Love Local,” I whispered to Ben and said, “This is how we should wear Filipiniana.”
At the Playground, the events space at the Bench Tower, as worn by the Bench Fashion Week audience, the baro, the saya, the patadyong, the terno, the Balintawak, jusi, piña, and all manner of indigenous fabrics from Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao paraded as modern things, matched with distressed jeans or microminis, paired with killer stilettos or sneaks, worn under a jersey or with knee-high socks—and with a very modern attitude, sleek or avant-garde or fashion-forward and very street. Hashtag throwback would not have been the right word for what people wore to Lesley Mobo’s show, which hadn’t even started.
But when it did start, it started, as the lights dimmed, with a burst of vibrant colors reminiscent of sunny, sultry paradise, introducing Mobo’s capsule collection of what he called “Tropical Ternos.” The shape-flattering silhouettes showcased masterly draping, ruffles, pleating in extravagant floral patterns that bespoke of the lushness of the Philippine countryside, as well as the mood of a hearty harvest—“Masaganang Bukid,” as Lesley puts it as a nod to rural splendor and the abundance of farmlands, gardens, and forests in the tropics. Accessories like the salakot and the bilao, from which a model poetically scattered sampaguita blooms while sashaying down the ramp, paid an homage to the Filipino farmer and Philippine agriculture in general.
Next was Lesley’s collaboration with Bench, a series of everyday staples for the young who, as of 2021, comprise at least 29 percent of the Philippine population. By way of design details, such as prints, embroidery, color schemes, and iconography, rugby shirts, statement tees, microskirts, denim shorts, chinos, Hawaiian polos, and varsity jackets carried distinct emblems of Philippine heritage, such as a carabao, a coconut tree swaying in the tropical breeze, or the silhouette of a Filipina in a terno with a flower tucked in her ear.
Lesley Mobo’s show ended big and with a bang, replete with a marching band, as three 10-foot-high higantes with trails of tulle or cascades of ruffles on their larger-than-life ternos danced onto the runway.
Showbiz darling Maine Mendoza, who was among the highlights of the show, particularly for the Mobo x Bench segment, wore a varsity bomber, a standout in summer and fall 2022 collections in Europe, from Off-White to Versace and Louis Vuitton, and evocative of the green and gray Philadelphia Eagles jacket Diana, the Princess of Wales, wore more than once in public in the 1990s.
Lesley’s show ended big and with a bang, replete with a marching band—to the delight of the guests, who heaved an audible sigh of collective amazement—as three 10-foot-high higantes with trails of tulle or cascades of ruffles on their larger-than-life ternos danced onto the runway to the tune of Manila Sound band Hotdog’s 1970s hit “Bongga Ka, ’Day,” to which, with Ben rising from his seat to get everybody off their feet, the audience, along with the models, started dancing.
Cue in confetti like rain during planting season, which should herald a plentiful harvest. With hope harvest season is on the horizon for the Philippine dress.
We don’t exactly wear our traditions on our sleeves. Although Ben’s tireless Love Local campaign has no doubt taken hold, we’re still not that appreciative of our rich traditions. We can be, if—as Lesley Mobo and many other Filipino designers have been trying to do—we make our traditions relevant, practical, sharp and dashing and stylish, fabulous, wearable for many occasions as well as non-occasions, and fun.
That’s how we make tradition current. Like the kebaya in Nay Pyi Taw or Kuala Lumpur, like the gho (for boys) or the kira (for girls) in Thimpu, like the áo dài in Ho Chi Minh, like the kimono in Tokyo, we have to wear it every day.
Mobo x Bench is now available at Bench stores nationwide.
