Such is the gauge of pure design genius. The truly great fashion designers created a look that literally revolutionized the way people dressed and, consequently, how they carried themselves, the way they walked, socialized and lived. The great ones like Balenciaga, Balmain, Dior, Chanel, Saint Laurent, et al., envisioned the need for a change and designed clothing that people were compelled to adopt without so much as a blink. At that given moment, it was just so perfect, so right, so fresh, they had to have it. Whether the look symbolizes freedom, a new sense of glamour, an alternative active lifestyle or gender-bending politics, true fashion design ignites a change in attitude, silhouette, and lifestyle.
In the Philippine scene, there is little doubt that one of our great designers, if not the most revered and influential, is Ramon Valera. There were many along with him, such as Pacita Longos and Juanita Roa, who pioneered changes to the traditional baro’t saya, and then eventually to the terno. But what I’ve come to learn in the last two weeks is that no one has made such a lasting impression on women as Valera did in his heyday. Valera rocked the Pinoy fashion world and women’s lives like no other designer since.
Admittedly, I did not know all that much about Valera when I decided to write about him. I was schooled in New York and, unfortunately, Philippine fashion was never a topic of discussion. As it turns out, most of the information on Valera can’t be found in press archives or history books anyway, but mainly from oral history – personal accounts from our moms, titas and lolas. Apparently, he was just as famous for being a "perpetual bachelor," for refusing clients he just didn’t like no matter how thick their pocketbooks, for his unwavering temperament, and other personal idiosyncrasies like hating the color red. I was beginning to fall in lust…
In 1931, at age 19, Valera became the first male designer of the Philippines. He began designing dresses for little girls and his two sisters, Didi and Lulu. He had no formal studies in costume designing or dressmaking. In fact, he dropped out of FEU where he was enrolled in a Business Administration course. What a rebel! In 1940, Valera ditched the pañuelo from the traditional terno – the pañuelo being the piece of fabric that draped over the shoulders like a small shawl, a symbol of privilege, status and propriety. In spite of critics, the new terno grabbed attention and soon Valera was every IT girl’s must-have. His dresses were renowned for being the most expensive in town (P6,000 at that time, which is roughly equivalent to P300,000 today). He turned the long bell sleeves of the camisa into the now classic butterfly sleeves as if to liberate the wearer. He then raised the hem of the saya. He also combined the oriental kimona bodice with western-influenced design, such as the tunic, the A-line, and the bubble skirt. Fabrics were adorned with a multitude of beads, sequins, stones, feathers, ribbons, and embroidery that would make you feel as if you were wearing a gigantic piece of jewelry. From afar, his handiwork illustrates a distinct pattern – like a French garden. While up close, you will observe a blinding, kaleidoscopic design so intricate and sharp you will not believe it was made by hand. His level of craftsmanship was so exceptional, you will doubt whether a human being indeed created it – almost the way you feel when you see a Gothic cathedral for the first time. His ingenious drapery techniques appear like water flowing from a vessel; whimsical pleating, knotting and folding resemble origami. There was always an element of surprise, a statement – such as a cape with holes for the arms, a hood that extends to the hem, a sash that evolves into a neckline. It was pageantry and regalia at its finest – the perfect adornment for then First Lady Imelda Marcos and something you can imagine Elizabeth Taylor looking spectacular in.
But the real issue lies in the legacy he has left among his modern-day counterparts. The challenge for designers and dressmakers today is to uphold the Valera principle and perhaps take it to another level altogether – to strive for that expert craftsmanship (which is intrinsically Filipino); to maintain our own indigenous aesthetic sense while incorporating global influences and modern-day sensibilities; and above all, in keeping with the true spirit of fashion, to challenge tradition and invoke change.
I can’t help but wonder though…what would he be designing if he were alive today? Will there ever be another one like him? Could I have been one of his chosen few clients or just another ogling onlooker? The questions abound because the subject is potent and profound. Valera was a designer who never doubted his aesthetic nor compromised his craft – a deliciously vicious visionary I wish we could resurrect.
Dare to Wear: A vamped up terno, of course.