There is a certain calmness to Hannah Barrera—quiet but unmissable, like the stillness before a curtain rises.

I first met her in what must be one of the most fashionable settings imaginable: vintage shopping in Milan, Italy. The shop, Offbeat Vintage and More, is a treasure trove overflowing with Missoni zigzags, Armani tailoring, snakeskin top-handle bags, emerald-toned silk skirts, and more.

I was admiring an almost comical number of sunglasses—drawer after drawer of tinted lenses and sculptural frames from Gucci, Saint Laurent, Prada; you name the brand, they have it—when Vicky Veloso-Barrera introduced me to her daughter, Hannah.

They were in animated discussion with the store owner about how a clerk mistakenly sold a vintage Thierry Mugler piece for far less than its worth. A collective sigh filled the room; even those who do not own Mugler understand the gravity of losing a piece of fashion history. But beyond the price tag, it was the irreplaceability that mattered, the feeling of holding a slice of an era, perfectly preserved in seams and structure.

A few moments later, as Hannah and I walked through the narrow calm of Via Degli Arcimboldi toward the grand swell of the Duomo, she told me that if she had to choose one word to describe her aesthetic, it would simply be: art.

There is no rush to her voice, and her calmness comes from knowing her craft and her lineage deeply. Hannah belongs to a family of fashion designers, beginning with her great-grandmother Marina Antonio, her grandmother Malu Veloso, and her mother and aunt, Vicky and Letlet Veloso. She is the fourth generation in a line of creators, each one shaping Filipino fashion in their time.

Yet Hannah is forging something entirely her own.

She paints, dyes, and weaves fabric. She makes her own flowers, hand-cuts her appliqués, and collaborates with weavers from north to south for piña, abaca, silk, and cotton. Her silhouettes are restrained and timeless but her vision is unmistakably modern, deeply personal, and definitely Filipino.

It’s no wonder then that she was selected by Piattaforma Moda to represent De La Salle - College of Saint Benilde at Fashion Graduate Italia in Milan, last October 2025. She was the first Filipino designer to ever show on this global platform. Her work stood beside collections from France, New York, Tokyo, Mexico, Korea, and more, proving that Filipino craftsmanship can hold its own in the world’s fashion capitals.

But on the busy walkway between boutiques and espresso-scented cafés, Hannah was still absorbing it all. “I don’t even feel that I'm in Milan right now,” she told me, half-laughing. “That’s how stressed I am. It feels like I’m dreaming.”

She recounted how she didn’t even tell her parents when her school shortlisted her; convinced she would not be chosen, she kept the announcement to herself to avoid “jinxing it.” But her work spoke for itself: sustainable Philippine textiles, painterly techniques, a couture sensibility rare in someone her age.

Her four-piece collection—each one sewn entirely by her—reads almost like a diary. The first look is a pure Bacnotan silk gown with a hand-painted collar inspired by Van Gogh’s “Irises.” “When the wearer turns, all the flowers change color,” she explained. The effect is lenticular with blue blooms shifting to white with a tilt of the body.

The second piece is a morning-glory-shaped bouffant dress, its petals opening and closing depending on the angle. The next look is a tribute to the bougainvillea tree outside her home.

And, lastly, her “conceptual wedding gown” fashions like a dramatic red gumamela piece with a sweeping hem and unapologetic volume. “This shows my journey,” said Hannah. The gown echoes her childhood fascination with couture shows, where finales were always unconventional bridal looks.

“I used to wonder why their wedding gowns didn’t look like wedding gowns. And now here I am, doing the same thing,” she said.

Her Milan runway moment—those creamy European silhouettes reimagined in Philippine fibers—did more than draw applause. Audience members stood up to get a closer look. Italian TV featured her. International schools inquired about partnerships with her school. This spotlight proves once again that Filipino fashion, rooted in indigenous materials and crafted by Filipino hands, can be seen and celebrated on one of the industry’s biggest stages.

As the Duomo finally came into view, glistening in the late afternoon sun, Hannah told me quietly: “I hope that when people look at my work, they see that the Philippines is capable of so much more. Our fibers, our techniques, they belong on the global stage.”

Her plans after Milan are simple and resolute: start her brand slowly, intentionally, without rushing the process. “I want to be a slow fashion brand,” she said. Everything she does is handmade: dyed, painted, sewn, cut by her own hands. There is no other way she wants to work.

And somehow, this pace feels exactly right. Art, after all, takes time.