Manila is a metropolis of convent schools. The influence of religion has been felt not only in churches but also through the classroom. Regimen goes with religion and so generations of Filipino middle-class kids had to undergo the discipline of such schools, starting with uniforms.
For us, boys, uniforms were not much of an issue. I did not exactly love my khaki pants and white shirt but fashion was not our thing, except for some kids who were drawn to matters of that sort. They were always made fun of, but most grew to be more successful than the straight guys.
For the girls, uniforms were more important. Barring the few tomboys who always managed to tear their uniforms to shreds, most convent schools took their school dress seriously. So did the fierce nuns who imposed the strict dress codes. Horror stories abound about how girls (especially in high school) were subjected to military-like style, checks to fix the lengths of skirts — above or below the knee, depending on the decade and the school.
Some schools also imposed bans on jewellery and accessories, shoes and socks. Then there was the hair and anything that went with it. Of course, boys’ schools also had strict rules …I always wore my hair with “three-fingers,” which is the number of fingers from my ears that it was to be close cropped. The ‘60s brought some breathing room for boys but not for the girls. I wore mine Bruce Lee-style but it did not get me any attention from the girls.
Girls’ uniforms for us boys were an important subject to educated in. We all learned to identify them from a mile away. It was like the armed forces training to recognize targets. All-girls schools had distinctive patterns, skirt colors, ruffles, ties and some even hats (or caps). The color and length of the skirt were the first things to look for.
Girls traveled in gaggles so it was easy to spot them. Plaid or solid, blue, green or shades of red, blue or orange and maroon — these were the key visuals. Long-sleeved or short blouses, white or colored, tucked or un-tucked; you developed a checklist in your head.
Boys had patches and ties. I wore a bowtie (Don Bosco) all throughout my elementary years. I hated them. They would always come lose and the snaps would always work free, so I had to often scotch tape the thing together just to get through the day without demerits.
Girls had ties and patches too, but I never really got close enough to be able to identify them. Such proximity was never allowed till much later and distances even in dances (or what we used to call soirees) were maintained wide enough so teachers could go between us. Then there were the school pins but to get that close meant risking severe punishment…or scoring big with the opposite sex (or the same sex depending on the school and circumstance).
Sometimes, though not often, boys would notice the girls’ shoes. Many convent school girls wore Gregg’s, while the boys wore Ang Tibays. Eventually many went to Shoemart. I hated my shoes because they were orthopaedic for a while and uncomfortable, not to mention unflattering.
The ‘70s and college made uniform spotting quite exciting for us boys. Skirts were shorter (or made shorter by the girls as they walked out of school). There was also more opportunity to meet since many colleges and universities were coed. The convent school colleges, unfortunately did not go coed till the ‘70s and ‘80s.
I relished the fact that you could wear anything (or nothing) at the UP. Civilian clothes were liberating. So the first chance I got (and with the first baon I got), I went to the corner tailor and had several denim and slacks made. Everything was bespoke then!
The pictures with this article are from the ‘50s and ‘60s and show a slice of Manila life that is still with us. Uniforms were and still are important to instill school pride and identity. These days uniforms are still de riguer for many convent schools. Some still impose strict controls, but the days of nuns and priests with iron fists and rulers are over. I am sure many of us look back with fondness at those days when a freshly ironed shirt was a blessing but too much starch in one’s shorts made for a terrible day.
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