This classic Filipino outfit, almost doomed to forever stay in bauls, was resurrected last year in a Met fashion show.
Then society women began wearing it to formal parties, looking so pretty that terno advocate-kundiman queen Atang de la Rama must be singing in her grave.
Now, fashion designers are reinventing the terno and telling modern brides how beautiful it would be to wear something new and something Filipino.
At the Cebu Waterfront Hotel last week, for instance, 21 designers from Cebu and Manila came in full force – and frills – to show exciting twists to the terno.
"Last year was the resurgence of the terno," explains Metro editor-in-chief Thelma San Juan. "Since it came back in a very big way, Marco Protacio (Waterfront’s GM) suggested to the designers that they submit gowns in the style of the terno."
The terno’s signature look is its butterfly sleeves, known to many as the look popularized by former First Lady Imelda Marcos. Unfortunately, due to its association with Imelda and – as a result –martial law, the terno acquired a certain stigma. As Daphne Oseña, editor-in-chief of Metro Weddings, reasons, "Sadly, post-1986, the terno was misconstrued as the icon of an abusive regime – so much so that even beauty pageant contestants wouldn’t wear the terno when representing the Philippines."
Since then, its classic elegance has been taken for granted as the terno has often been used only as a costume for Filipiniana events, and for especially important government affairs. But nowhere could the original pageantry of the terno be seen, with its imaginative colors and fabrics, until recently.
"We are now seeing a revival of the terno among the fashionable modern women," shares Daphne, "because of the untimely death of (designer) Joe Salazar."
At the Cebu Waterfront bridal show, extravagance seemed to be a recurring theme for many of the designers, while others focused on simpler silhouettes. Dino Lloren’s simple A-line gown, made entirely of Mikado silk, harkened to the days of excessive luxury, when the moneyed elite spent some serious cash on their wedding gowns. Only one rule applied then: local couture had to look and feel expensive. No matter how simple the cut, the tailoring had to be pitch-perfect.
Lloren recognized the need for perfection that many designers disregard today. The stiffness of the hem, the delicate cascade of ruffled silk, the simple diamond necklace signified the magnificent stylishness that only the truly wealthy can achieve. Though many consider an overt declaration of wealth to be shallow, vulgar even, Lloren was careful to keep his look fresh and not too full of itself. Even he was not immune to the irony of too much wealth in today’s globalized world, cleverly styling the model as a young Imelda Marcos.
Jun Escario’s work, meanwhile, had a recognizable handwriting, one that was fluent in gorgeous beading and detailing. Never one to produce simple gowns with no whimsical elements such as feathers and deliciously intricate lace, his wedding gown – it could never be referred to simply as a dress – was a testament to luxury, his worldly extravagance always tasteful, never vulgar.
Recognizing a bride’s need for something simple, Mel Vergel de Dios offered chic modesty at its best – a slim fitting gown with almost no detail aside from the dainty smattering of beads across the sleeves and a cascade of pearls across the neckline. The point here seemed to be that anything else – whether it be clever embroidery or precious lace – served to distract the eye from a simplicity that should always be effortless.
Wilma Doesnt looked sublime in her De Dios gown, with a pair of pearl earrings serving as her only adornment, proving that you don’t need a lot of fancy trappings to look like a million bucks.
Protacio Empaces’ gown was a throwback to another world – with its tightly fitted silhouette giving off a rounded figure reminiscent of the ’50s when women proudly displayed their hourglass figures. His work references the big-band glamour of that era without overpowering the inherent elegance of the gown’s structure, leavening the nostalgia with a succession of modern twists. The jeweled detailing at the hip, the black elbow-length gloves, the sleek chignon – all of these details brought us back to a more glamorous age, one that Empaces so obviously adores. "My afternoons were spent watching Sampaguita and LVN Films in black and white," he explains. "At that time, I considered Gloria Romero to be the most glamorous screen siren. I wanted to capture that mood so I designed a terno in black and white complete with a long train reminiscent of the era."
Even Daphne Oseña can now be considered one of his fans. "I loved the nipped-in waist, it was almost like the woman was corseted underneath," she shares. "And he had the most perfect butterfly sleeves – they sat at the edge of the woman’s shoulders, yet the sleeves stood erect. The gown was flirtatious without being too literal."
Anthony Romoff’s quirky offering seemed almost part eccentric, part French confection. Its bodice was layered with white lace while strands of pearls and lavender petals floated about the dress haphazardly in a completely unstudied manner. While the seemingly random elements utilized – the distracting shawl above an already over-embellished dress seemed a touch too much – may seem careless to most, it was refreshing to see someone bravely cross the tedious boundaries of good taste to something more electrifying and inspired.
Most designers would be satisfied with pretty and conventional designs, but not Romoff. He takes risks – and for that alone, he should be honored. After this showing, one can now expect many good things from Anthony Romoff, hopefully in keeping with a sensibility that is continuously exciting and new.
While so many designers presented their own incredible versions of the terno, the best dresses of the night came from two designers from totally opposite spheres: Ernest Santiago, who came out of runway retirement to present his wedding gown, and Arcy Gayatin, a young designer from Cebu.
The design sensibilities of designers such as Arcy Gayatin and Ernest Santiago have elevated the terno from distinguished costume to modern elegance: timeless yet so very of the moment, guarantying the terno’s place in fashions to come.
Made of material that looked so delicate, almost like a spider’s web, Arcy Gayatin’s gown was a testament to ingenious craftwork. "The fabric was carefully frayed," Gayatin explains. "We took out the threads one by one to come up with this kind of texture."
It is precisely this kind of dedication that differentiates Gayatin from the rest of the pack – her tailoring forays are always experiments with fabric, texture and color, achieving a look that seems to be all about zen simplicity. The delicate fabric gently hugged the model’s figure, trailing off to what would be a daring "V" at the back but Gayatin, ever mindful of a bride’s modesty, discreetly covered up the back with flesh-toned fabric.
The fabric was pinned at the back, above the derriere, to form a slight bustle with the material gently spilling down the model‘s back. It was Gayatin’s masterful mix of the old and new–modern fabric on an old silhouette–that allowed her work to remain constantly clever and original.
While Arcy comes fresh from the youth front, Ernest Santiago is a fashion tour de force of sorts. He’s been a fearless designer since the ’60s – he sold his wares at his own shop, called Santiago de Manila in Remedios Circle, and was the owner of the club Cocobanana, the place to be in the ’70s. It comes as no surprise then that Santiago’s terno, the finale of the Sposabella show, was rather unconventional, to say the least.
It wasn’t as though he had dressed a model in see-through frocks that blasphemed the tradition of wedding gowns. Yet, as model Marina Benipayo took to the stage in her Santiago gown, the young glitterati went all a-twitter at the sight of his terno, with its wide skirt, diaphanous butterfly sleeves, gloriously colorful saris draped over shoulder and skirt, and, of course, the hat constructed from twigs.
"We knew Ernest would give us something different," says an admiring editor. And he certainly did. His dress seemed to hark back to an old-school kind of glamour, one that would never bow to trends or suffer from twinges of conformity. It was showy, certainly – every head would turn to look if you entered a room with that kind of get-up – but it had an overwhelming confidence that took you by surprise and reminded you that fashion wasn’t all about looking pretty. It was about stirring up emotion and evoking beauty in one spirited leap.
Perhaps it was the re-emergence of those lovely butterfly sleeves or maybe it was the delightful modifications of the designers to the terno –whatever it was, it felt like fashion was once again embracing something Filipino.
At a time and age when local designers keep moving towards a more western sensibility, it’s a point of pride to see fashions that reference our own culture and history. Ramon Valera and Joe Salazar must be smiling in their graves.