Outfitting Me Through the Years
I was never fashion-conscious. I wore clothes, mostly dresses, that my mother had custom-made for me. She did not consult me about my preferred color, material, or style. My clothes arrived at my college dorm ready to be worn, and I didn't feel the need to question her choices. Perhaps I agreed with her taste. Or, with my father barely making enough money to feed, shelter, and clothe a brood of eleven as a small-town cop, the job of outfitting his children was left entirely to my mother and her genius for making ends meet.
As a girl, I wore matching outfits with my older sister closest to my age. People occasionally mistook us for twins. My mother's costurera cut them from the same piece of cloth. To tell us apart, she had mine trimmed in lace and ruffles, cinched at the waist with a dainty ribbon belt, or circle-skirted for a super-feminine look. My tomboyish sister had a more tailored cut without any embellishment.
To economize, my mother also bought us second-hand clothes from itinerant merchants who stacked small mountains of clothing on mats along the curb. Precursors to today's ukay-ukay, they were patronized by poorer families like ours. I had to get by on these and hand-me-downs from older sisters and cousins. It took years before we could afford to shop for clothes at department stores.
It was not difficult to dress me then. I had a slim figure and fair skin. I think my mother even enjoyed dolling up her six daughters, matching our personalities with dress styles while meeting the challenges of limited resources. For formal wear, I simply rummaged through my older sisters' closet to pick a party dress without their knowledge. My sisters can still recall how much of a nuisance I was.
I began showing independence in choosing what to wear as a high schooler in the sixties. But my choice of clothes was random at best; I merely mimicked what was fashionable among my peers. When op art was in vogue, we wore tent- and empire-style dresses in flashing patterns of black and white. We accessorized with net stockings, tall wooden clogs, and large plastic trinkets. And when the Hawaiian muumuu became fashionable, we donned floral cotton maxi dresses and stuck flowers in our hair. Following the trend fit us right in with our generation at school fairs and dances.
As a college freshman and sophomore—when I decided to pursue anthropology as a career in defiance of my dad, who wanted me to be an accountant, and my mother, a nurse—I donned what anthropologists wear as a badge of honor: ethnic and tribal ornaments.
As a young professional, I started buying designer clothes, relying solely on name-brand recognition rather than whether the styles were appropriate for my age, figure, or disposition. I soon discovered that I was a conservative dresser, preferring below-the-knee skirts with polo-style tops for office wear, and monochromatic, solid-colored dress suits for formal events. As a museum curator, I mingled with the scholarly types in academia and the country's arts and culture scene—an environment where my distinct approach to accessorizing simultaneously helped me fit in and set me apart.
Abroad, where I represented the country in museum exhibits and cultural forums, I was often required to wear Philippine formal dress ensembles, which didn't always suit the weather. Events I attended during the fall and winter seasons in Europe and the U.S. forced me to dress for the cold, hiding my exquisite Filipino terno beneath long, heavy black coats, leg warmers, and leather boots.
Today, having advanced to an age where it is no longer polite to ask, with a figure that has developed permanent curves in new places, and spending most of my time at home or visiting family as a retiree, I can finally build a wardrobe that is perfect for me. I have decided that comfort comes first: my clothes must be loose and made of breathable fabrics like cotton and linen, with hemlines strictly below the knee. They need to be stylish enough to host guests at home or wear while traveling. Above all, they should tell the world exactly who I am—the matriarch of the family and a proud grandmother four times over.
