Baubles, bangles & beads

MANILA, Philippines - Fiestas, as Filipinos define them, are escapist fare. Money is flowing, food is overflowing. Flea markets are all over. Everything is soulful rhythm – people are smiling, and even amid the magical sunset, lights are twinkling.

The moment the first drum patterns cut soaring shapes from the speaker banks, fiesta-mania sweeps you up like dust. Ignore the “sick-as-a-pig” hangovers; they don’t set in until the following day anyway.   A Pinoy fiesta is a chance for people to leave their everyday baggage at the gates – there are no political scandals in festival-land.

Festival celebrations underscore a sociological truth that church officials recognized centuries earlier:    that visual impact and iconic fervor are necessary to capture the Pinoy’s attention. Hence, the Filipino fiesta took on a theatrical hue with loose manifestations of the faith as the community of saints were incorporated into heretofore pagan rituals.

The visually spectacular Aliwan Fiesta, held each summer under the auspices of Manila Broadcasting Company and the Cultural Center of the Philippines, is grassroots theater at its very best. Nowhere is it more evident that geographically-isolated inhabitants of this island nation have turned to traditional dances and related folk expression to provide themselves with a mode of entertainment. Dance forms integrate with dramatic presentations, capped by spectacular dances choreographed to amaze and awe. 

Wearing traditional costumes with flair and panache, contingents from various municipalities throughout the country converge at the capital in a sizzling showdown of the best among the best – dignifying their tribal roots but just as strongly acknowledging the amalgam of influences from both the East and West. 

Renowned costume designer Lito Perez of Camp Suki, whose affiliation with the Fashion Designers Association of the Philippines afforded him first-hand interaction with the Aliwan Fiesta a few years back, points out the liberty that wardrobe consultants of the festivals have taken on their customs and traditions, excusing them in the name of irreverent joy. 

“Designers of festival costumes are usually prone to an overkill of feathers, beads, and sequins,” Lito observes. “These are theatrical conventions necessary in such a massive gathering.”

Because many local festivals tend to date the religious conversion of the natives to our aboriginal forebears, wigs and face paint, particularly in allusion to the darker-skinned, kinky-haired indigenous Aeta tribes, are also favorite devices, especially when highlighting the pervasive wild revelry that marks a town fiesta.

“Face-painting and the use of masks are common techniques that banish any trace of social classification. Everyone becomes equal – walang pango, walang tisoy,” he laughingly explains.  

Adopting nuances from contemporary pop culture, even the art of tattooing, which ancient tribes called pintados proudly sported, has been resurrected to showcase traditional geometric designs coupled with the magical symbolism of scorpions, snakes, and bats favored by people in the heartland of mountainous Northern Luzon, Central Visayas, and South­ern Mindanao.

“Nowadays, even street vendors sell these flesh-colored elastic arm covers silkscreened with goth-like designs,” observes Lito. “The concept expands further into full body stockings used by many dancers.”

In a gathering as large as the Aliwan Fiesta, the Muslim contingents in their traditional finery never fail to dazzle with their luxurious silks dominated by resplendent hues of purple, yellow, and green. 

“The most awesome display of rank and sophistry is seen in Muslim wedding rituals,” gushes Lito. “I think that’s why many festivals have adopted more ornate embellishments in their costumes, but using the simplest locally found materials like seeds, coconut shell, and even carabao horn.”

But the most outlandish costumes have always been reserved for the contingents’ muses, who vie for the title of Festival Queen or Reyna ng Aliwan. While there are limits to the size, the girls’ outfits could easily put Rio de Janeiro’s Carnavale to shame.

“It’s as if those who create the reynas’ festival costumes vicariously live out their fantasies,” Lito decries. “Last year, the candidate from Pampanga had to bear an eight-kilo steel body brace. The other year, the candidate from Pasig couldn’t fit her costume through the backstage entrance and had to move sideways.”

The design entrepreneur, whose initiation into the costume business came via his exposure to theater in high school, offers basic tips to would-be designers of festival costumes while taking us on a brief tour of his quaint shop just a stone’s throw from Mt. Carmel church in New Manila, Quezon City.

“When I costume, I am not a designer nor clothing manufacturer, but a builder of character, concept, and physical movement,” Lito starts off. “I don’t complain about the shape of my client’s body, but I need to understand how to hide the humps and bumps that are there. I also make sure I am aware of his or her movement needs.”

Because costuming is a competitive business and now an intrinsic creative industry in many Philippine towns come fiesta time, costume designers would do well to take courses in sewing, tailoring, art history, and set design, as well as being involved in actual production. They should also know what fabrics are, how they differ in fabric content and weaving style.

“For a festival, it’s important that the costume designer works with the choreographer, tourism officials, and with their suppliers of raw materials,” Lito advises. “They must ensure that what they come up with brings out a collective vision, but is done with aesthetic sense.” 

Lito is heavily inspired by history and literature. Unveiling his latest collection at Philippine Fashion Week, he drew on his current preoccupation with the historicity in Vigan and Taal. When he gets students walking into his shop asking for help with Elizabethan costumes, he literally goes to town. He makes sure that he and his staff are abreast of the latest cartoons for the benefit of office workers who come in droves at Halloween and Christmas. And Lito is just as comfortable garbing matrons for the Sparklers ball or recreating Queen Amidala, as he is crafting an Ati-Atihan headdress.

“I make costumes that astonish and entertain, but my designs help the audience understand the story and the character,” Lito stresses. “In a festival context, costumes do not exist in a vacuum but as part of an entire set where props, lights, and sound all contribute to the visual representation of their fiesta.”

Above all, Lito emphasizes that costume designers should study the history of fashion and dress, avoiding mindless copying but keeping in mind key elements of characterization and concept.

“Costuming is fun, and I endeavor to keep it that way,” he says.

Manila Broadcasting Company and the CCP are mounting an exhibition of festival costumes from the Aliwan Fiesta at the CCP’s Little Theater lobby from April 13-20.