The terno: a symbol and icon

IN THE presence of less-polite company, the audience at the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP) last Sunday, Nov. 11, would have frothed at the mouth and would have fallen in a faint from sheer ecstasy at the sights and sounds at this year’s Ternocon.
As it was, however, the impeccably dressed crowd could do nothing but clap at the performance held at the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP) Main Theater’s stage. Both the runway and the audience were contained therein, showing fashion as performance, both on the clothes on the runway and the lives lived by those who chose to wear the terno.
The CCP collaborated with clothing conglomerate Bench for Ternocon, a project that aims to teach young and talented designers from all over the country the history and the technique of the terno — the national dress characterized by its butterfly sleeves. The project, the first stages of which began last year, finally culminated in the performance at the CCP.
The terno has ebbed and flowed in popularity, and in its seams lies our country’s history: while the style, drape and drop might seem Western, the smallest details (particularly the butterfly sleeves) show off a pride in the Philippine identity. It took off from the quasi-Victorian traje de mestiza that served as the Filipina gentlewoman’s dress, then evolved along with American fashions during the American Occupation.
It arguably reached its highest point during the Marcos dictatorship, when the strongman’s wife Imelda Marcos strutted across the world stage in terno, the peaked sleeves framing her face. After the Marcoses were fled into exile in 1986 for their various crimes, the terno faded in popularity, being seen only on select special occasions. It seems appropriate then, that the terno would be honored in a performance at the CCP, once the pride of Mrs. Marcos.
We call it a “performance” because aside from the fashion show that exhibited the winning gowns of the contestants (30 in all), the CCP incorporated various cultural performances throughout the show: for example, the first part of the show opened with a Subli by singers from Batangas — it’s quite hard to describe, but there’s a crucifix, and an offertory dance in there. Other highlights included serenades from a male ensemble, where, as they crooned songs in Tagalog, capiz chandeliers were gracefully dropped lower, closer to the runway, lending it a softer, more romantic glow.

The first part showed off the designs of the Ternocon contestants for the balintawak, here loosely defined as a cocktail-length terno, which included a blue one made almost entirely of peacock feathers. The winners for this category were: Santi Obcena with a bronze medal, silver for Dan Ryan Duran, and a gold for Marlon Tuazon.
The formal ternos were shown off, a favorite was a white creation with sheer overlay and floor-sweeping sleeves; with the whole thing studded in pearls. It won a gold, and was designed by the gold medalist from the Balintawak category, Marlon Tuazon, giving Mr. Tuazon a clean sweep that evening. The other winners were Maria Nenita Morden with silver, and Michael Joseph Bawar with bronze.
Ternocon would not have happened without the help of the fashion designers who were assigned as mentors for the project: Inno Sotto, JC Buendia, Cary Santiago, and Len Cabili. Their presentations were also a highlight: for example, Cary Santiago presented a collection with ternos shaped with birds either in a more modest pose or with wings outstretched, forming bodices and skirts. Mr. Sotto, meanwhile, dominated the seats at the theater with designs inspired by great and late Filipinas (socialite Imelda Ongsiako Cojuangco, for example). His flamboyant designs were made to hover on the theater’s most expensive seats closest to the stage. The models weren’t to be ignored either: while pretty young things pranced on the runway, supermodels from fashion shows past usually wore the final dresses in each segment, showing a grace and movement no longer seen on runways — or most venues, for that matter.
Meeting Mr. Tuazon on the stairs of the CCP Lobby, we asked him what he learned from Ternocon. Technique, of course, but then: “I already admired the terno, but now, the love of Philippine culture is buong-buo (whole and intact).”
A symbol serves as more than a visual reminder and a summary of things. It serves as a rallying call as well for people who share an identity. Said Bench Founder and Suyen Corp. chair Ben Chan in a speech, “The terno is not just a garment: it is a symbol and icon; it is an art.”
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why the terno is important. — Joseph L. Garcia