WHILE one may think that clothes don’t matter, history would show otherwise. An era’s fashions show the dictates of society at a point in time: the materials available to a people, the prevalent moral and social codes, and a measurement of the people’s prosperity. A fashion show at the Shangri-La Plaza aimed to tell the story of the Philippines through its clothing: from the pre-colonial period to the near-past of the 1960s.

The show, called Obra Maestra 2020: Homage to Heritage was held at the Shangri-la Plaza’s Grand Atrium late last month. The show also served to announce the book Obra Maestra: A Portrait of Excellence in Philippine Fashion and Culture, set to be released in May. The book and the show are both projects of Zardo Austria. Proceeds of the Obra Maestra efforts will benefit the construction of the Benedictine Sisters Reparatrices of the Sacred Heart’s new monastery and chapel in Mexico, Pampanga. These also raise funds for the Duyog Marawi Project, spearheaded by Bishop Edwin dela Peña, and the victims of the recent Taal Volcano eruption.

Designers who participated in the show include Oskar Peralta, Renee Salud, Ditta Sandico, Richard Papa, Roland Lirio, Steve De Leon, Delby Bragais, Peri Diaz, Albert Figueras, Peter Lim, Ricci Lizaso, Glenn Lopez, Edgar Madamba, Jontie Martinez, Jerome Navarro, Joyce Penas-Pilarsky, Lito Perez, Edgar San Diego, Gerry Sunga, Philip Torres, Edwin Uy, and the late Eddie Baddeo.

The clothes onstage were supported by performances from kundiman musicians, tenor Sherwin Sozon and soprano Tonton Pascual of the Lyric Opera of the Philippines, Mike Austria, Al Gatmaitan, Homer Mendoza, Vince Conrad, and Kathy Hipolito Mas.

The part of the show highlighting the pre-colonial period showed indigenous textiles from all over the country, while the segment covering the Spanish colonial period showed marvelously worked traje de mestizas. Samples of opera and kundiman played in the background as the models swayed down the runway.

The pace picked up with the presentation covering the American period. This is when the quasi-Victorian traje de mestiza evolved into the sleeker, one-piece terno we know today. Jazz and Big Band music played in the background, while outfits by Lito Perez came out. This included a terno with spotted embroidery, a sequined overskirt over a heavily embroidered underskirt in blue and silver, and a gold lamé fichu. For the men, reflecting the Americanization for the upper classes, light summer seersucker suits were brought out on the runway. Of note was a white lace number with blackworked sleeves paired with a black panelled skirt, and the cherry on top, a black lace pañuelo (fichu).

Jontie Martinez, meanwhile, showed off a magnificent terno in black lace and silver sequins. This was accompanied by a peacock-feather collar with a matching fan. The dress, and the one that followed it, imagined the dresses worn by Manila’s Carnival queens, a predecessor of our present obsession with pageants.

The next dress was Ricci Lizaso’s, a one-shouldered evening dress with crystals at the skirt and bodice, topped by a magnificent cockle headdresss. Continuing the beauty pageant theme, Peter Lim drew out a sequinned dress made of net, with a sash forming a bit of a bustle behind. The next dress, by Joyce Pilarsky, was pink, with a ruched ball gown skirt and a massive lace collar appliquèd in gold.

Hollywood’s influence in Philippine fashion was also touched on: Edgar San Diego brought out a villainously chic dress with a model with marcelled hair, wearing a black traje de mestiza with floral appliqués in pink over a very pale pink skirt.

The next segment began by introducing the privations of war, moving swiftly to the Liberation period, again bringing Big Band sound and Swing. Lito Perez brought out a pair of soldiers wearing khaki uniforms, while 1950s fashion was on the runway with models in ruffled skirts and shirtwaists for daywear. Formalwear didn’t take a backseat with a lovely rose-colored traje de mestiza with ruching and panelling at the skirt.

As the country settled more comfortably into the highs of independent government, high society began to throw lavish parties, such as the Kahirup and the rival Mancomunidad balls, which were thrown by rich Southerners and rich citizens of Central Luzon, respectively. The women who attended these lavish occasions were dressed mainly by five people: Ramon Valera, Pitoy Moreno, Aureo Alonzo, Ben Farrales, and R.T. Paras, whose works were exhibited at the mall until the end of last month.

The dresses that came next were interpretations of the creativity of these designers. For example, Steve de Leon’s knotting and draping combine in an angel-sleeved confection of yellow and white. Philip Torres, meanwhile, showed patchwork on a flared skirt made of net, with crystals on the butterfly-sleeved bolero. Delby Bragais showed a simple terno with crystal tendrils extending from the sleeve and waist, and a pattern drawn of crystal formed diamond shapes on the fabric. Edgar Madamba showed a beautiful panelled skirt in the shape of a tulip, below a delicate terno bodice. This was followed by a magenta evening gown.

The last part of the show showed Filipiniana of various lines, of all regions of origin; all made to showcase a sense of Filipino pride. They were all made with colors of the Philippine flag (yellow, red, blue, and white). A series of red dresses by Delby Bragais, for example, featured a tiered skirt and an interesting neckline, but for the series representing the flag’s red colors, we’ll have to give it to a stunning opera coat, spanning several feet, occupying almost the entire width of the runway, in a translucent material (possibly abaca), with a high collar and bell sleeves by Ditta Sandico. Lito Perez brought out a white unstructured terno like an 18^th century chemise dress. This was literally given structure with armor made of yellow metal.

Mr. Austria pointed out that outfits that may not have been historically accurate were part of the whole process. “I’m not asking them to be authentic. I told them to stylize,” he said.

It’s interesting to see such an ambitious fashion show in — of all places — a mall. This then democratizes the process, a point Mr. Austria agrees with. “It’s trying to reach out to this generation. These millennials, they’re hungry; they’re thirsty for something cultural,” he said in a mixture of English and Tagalog.

While it’s easy to fall in love with the terno’s shape and style, it isn’t always accessible to a lot of people for its sometimes prohibitive price: the piña (pineapple fiber fabric) used to make some ternos, for example, is hard to source and can be quite expensive. Still, some brands have been daring to turn the terno from formalwear to daywear, thus injecting a sense of Filipino pride (and style) to the everyday.

“That is what we want to encourage. We have to be proud of our heritage,” said Mr. Austria. “If this generation can relate to this type of interpretation, well and good.”

We can see this in Republic Act No. 9242 (Philippine Tropical Fabrics Law), which prescribes the use of native fabrics for official government uniforms. This alone may have spearheaded the ubiquity of the formal barong through its daywear polo-barong cousin, which Mr. Austria points at as a good example of the adaptation of national dress. In a mixture of English and Tagalog, he said, “I’m very, very sure, the terno will adapt as well.” — Joseph L. Garcia