The Fashion Show
(From Goodbye, Vientiane: The Filipinos In Laos)
Penélope V. Flores
Vientiane, 1960
In Laos, we always had to invent some entertainment to alleviate the boredom of where to go during off-hours. The entertainment field really had few choices. After visiting the many temples and wats and reconnoitering the open markets and talats, there was nothing else to do. Although my friends would invite me to go nightclubbing, it was against my private convent school prudish upbringing to go to these types of venues. Thus, it was a welcome suggestion when the idea of a fashion show came up.
A fiesta atmosphere invaded the Operation Brotherhood house. We would sell tickets and call it a Benefit Fashion Show. Out came our regalias from the maletas. It will be a cultural show. It will depict the diversity of the Filipino people through the costumes worn by the women. The traditional dresses from different regions will be highlighted. All the sagalas will put on their very best gowns.
The OB long dining tables were put end–to-end making a model’s runway arranged like a letter T. Seats were arranged around in a horseshoe pattern. Artist Bert Sobrevinas, tall, lean, bespectacled and eying every single detail, designed the background set. Nutritionist Irene Diaz, petite and graceful, wrote the script. She was extremely good at dress descriptions. Social worker Rosemarie del Rio, full-figured and short-torsoed, choreographed the show. Music, courtesy of the Filipino band from Vieng Ratry nightclub provided live numbers. Ang Bakya mo Neneng, and Leron, Lerong Sinta were the musical accompaniment. Burly and sinewy Gerry Dacanay, maintenance and supply officer, provided the sparks complete with search lights. He used spare jeep headlights. Our ever-present smiling photographer Sergio Lapitan provided the publicity shots.
Almost all members of the Filipino community, many US embassy friends, and many Laotians attended the affair. Northern Luzon was represented by Baguio native Narsing Dagdayan with her authentic Ifugao costume. She is of Bontoc heritage and carried her colorful dress with the mountain flair that goes with it. Evangeline Aberin, slim and slender, wore a very delicately embroidered piña Maria Clara costume. Many nurses wore several variations of the baro at saya outfit. Stately Virginia Perlada wore her stunning modern mestiza dress. Lourdes Caras, as cute as a button, wore an elegant terno. Coquettish Nila Ferrer wore the Visayan patadiong. She wore the tapis a tad shorter than the mid-calf length, thus showing more legs. Pet Duruin, who is from Mindanao, represented the region regally wearing a Muslim princess’ malong. I wore a voluminous skirt with a back bustle of striped satin and print à la 19th century style, topped with an embroidered camisa—the one my aunt gave me as part of the family inheritance.
It was a smashing success. We were basking in self-congratulatory adulation, thinking we bested couturier Pitoy Moreno’s fashion ensemble when I heard a scathing criticism nearby. It was from a recent arrived OB personnel. It seemed that Dionisio Salazar, not wanting to miss anything, chose a seat smack by the edges of the table-runway. He was so near the make shift entablado that all he could see were the feet and legs of the models. It was as if his eye lens were trained on “wide angle” vision; all foreground, no background.
“Puro peklatin,” I heard him say in a mildly complaining tone.
Diony was a slightly balding stooped man. He had a brown complexion that looked more ashen than copper. He was a literary poet, writer, and author and had a very conservative, critical outlook. In short ma pintasin. He was in his early 30s but looked 40 (among OB field personnel the mean average age was 28.) I knew him and OB personnel Leonidas Benesa, (another art critic writer, from the Mabini Avenue’s literary crowd) who I used to hang around with in Manila before I joined OB. Diony complained that most of the ladies had blemished legs.
“It was true we had peklats. Who wouldn’t have?” I answered defensively.
At that time, ladies’ trouser pants were not yet the standard wear among women as it is today, and silk stockings were inappropriate at field work. As a consequence, bare legs were always susceptible to unwanted exposure. Most nurses had dark blotched bruises from scrapes in makeshift operating tables. Others had legs peppered red with mosquito bites attending to the clinics along the Mekong. A few had unhealed scars—open wound bramble cuts from several medical public health village visits. Almost all had scaly dry rashes from wading in muddy Mekong marshes treating the sick at the Mekong river mobile unit embankments. In addition, I had a huge peklat, as big as a dime, on my top dorsal left foot. Due to allergies, I suffered from a weepy kind of eczema, the product of vapors from the damp monsoon rains while conducting village surveys and introducing socio-economic demonstration projects.
Life in Laos, an exotic country, working as a volunteer, was a high adventure for many of us who were just fresh out of college—out to change the world.
^TOP^
(From Goodbye, Vientiane: The Filipinos In Laos)
Penélope V. Flores
Vientiane, 1960
In Laos, we always had to invent some entertainment to alleviate the boredom of where to go during off-hours. The entertainment field really had few choices. After visiting the many temples and wats and reconnoitering the open markets and talats, there was nothing else to do. Although my friends would invite me to go nightclubbing, it was against my private convent school prudish upbringing to go to these types of venues. Thus, it was a welcome suggestion when the idea of a fashion show came up.
A fiesta atmosphere invaded the Operation Brotherhood house. We would sell tickets and call it a Benefit Fashion Show. Out came our regalias from the maletas. It will be a cultural show. It will depict the diversity of the Filipino people through the costumes worn by the women. The traditional dresses from different regions will be highlighted. All the sagalas will put on their very best gowns.
The OB long dining tables were put end–to-end making a model’s runway arranged like a letter T. Seats were arranged around in a horseshoe pattern. Artist Bert Sobrevinas, tall, lean, bespectacled and eying every single detail, designed the background set. Nutritionist Irene Diaz, petite and graceful, wrote the script. She was extremely good at dress descriptions. Social worker Rosemarie del Rio, full-figured and short-torsoed, choreographed the show. Music, courtesy of the Filipino band from Vieng Ratry nightclub provided live numbers. Ang Bakya mo Neneng, and Leron, Lerong Sinta were the musical accompaniment. Burly and sinewy Gerry Dacanay, maintenance and supply officer, provided the sparks complete with search lights. He used spare jeep headlights. Our ever-present smiling photographer Sergio Lapitan provided the publicity shots.
Almost all members of the Filipino community, many US embassy friends, and many Laotians attended the affair. Northern Luzon was represented by Baguio native Narsing Dagdayan with her authentic Ifugao costume. She is of Bontoc heritage and carried her colorful dress with the mountain flair that goes with it. Evangeline Aberin, slim and slender, wore a very delicately embroidered piña Maria Clara costume. Many nurses wore several variations of the baro at saya outfit. Stately Virginia Perlada wore her stunning modern mestiza dress. Lourdes Caras, as cute as a button, wore an elegant terno. Coquettish Nila Ferrer wore the Visayan patadiong. She wore the tapis a tad shorter than the mid-calf length, thus showing more legs. Pet Duruin, who is from Mindanao, represented the region regally wearing a Muslim princess’ malong. I wore a voluminous skirt with a back bustle of striped satin and print à la 19th century style, topped with an embroidered camisa—the one my aunt gave me as part of the family inheritance.
It was a smashing success. We were basking in self-congratulatory adulation, thinking we bested couturier Pitoy Moreno’s fashion ensemble when I heard a scathing criticism nearby. It was from a recent arrived OB personnel. It seemed that Dionisio Salazar, not wanting to miss anything, chose a seat smack by the edges of the table-runway. He was so near the make shift entablado that all he could see were the feet and legs of the models. It was as if his eye lens were trained on “wide angle” vision; all foreground, no background.
“Puro peklatin,” I heard him say in a mildly complaining tone.
Diony was a slightly balding stooped man. He had a brown complexion that looked more ashen than copper. He was a literary poet, writer, and author and had a very conservative, critical outlook. In short ma pintasin. He was in his early 30s but looked 40 (among OB field personnel the mean average age was 28.) I knew him and OB personnel Leonidas Benesa, (another art critic writer, from the Mabini Avenue’s literary crowd) who I used to hang around with in Manila before I joined OB. Diony complained that most of the ladies had blemished legs.
“It was true we had peklats. Who wouldn’t have?” I answered defensively.
At that time, ladies’ trouser pants were not yet the standard wear among women as it is today, and silk stockings were inappropriate at field work. As a consequence, bare legs were always susceptible to unwanted exposure. Most nurses had dark blotched bruises from scrapes in makeshift operating tables. Others had legs peppered red with mosquito bites attending to the clinics along the Mekong. A few had unhealed scars—open wound bramble cuts from several medical public health village visits. Almost all had scaly dry rashes from wading in muddy Mekong marshes treating the sick at the Mekong river mobile unit embankments. In addition, I had a huge peklat, as big as a dime, on my top dorsal left foot. Due to allergies, I suffered from a weepy kind of eczema, the product of vapors from the damp monsoon rains while conducting village surveys and introducing socio-economic demonstration projects.
Life in Laos, an exotic country, working as a volunteer, was a high adventure for many of us who were just fresh out of college—out to change the world.
^TOP^
Copyright © 2004 Philippine American Writers and Artists, Inc
