Ben Farrales: Memories, applause and tears

I call him Ben Farraray — to rhyme with mataray which he is. And he, in retaliation, calls me Carmelita K — as in kikay which he says I am.

That is Ben Farrales. The designing world calls him the Dean of Philippine Fashion — better still, a National Treasure. A God-fearing man, just like his dear friends at the Congregacion del Santissimo Nombre del Niño Jesus.

But for me, he is as human as all fashion legends go. Yes, their lives are just like their creations: fascinating, rich in details, and most of the time, original. And, as journalist-biographer Abe Florendo says: Their lives are oftentimes inspiring, sometimes scandalous.

I love Mang Ben — that’s how he is lovingly called — and the way he makes me laugh. Last Saturday, during the tribute given by his friends, headed by businesswoman and devoted client Milagros How, along with Mita Rufino, Mellie Ablaza, Danny Dolor, Chichi Salas, Fortune Ledesma, Vicky Magadia, Helen Ong, and Tina Carlos, at the Shangri-La Makati ballroom, he made us laugh. But he also made us cry.

“My name is Ben Farrales and I am 78 years old — take it or leave it,” the video onstage started.

“Are you really 78?” I asked him, knowing that on record, he is 82 years old, having been born on July 1, 1933. Some say it’s actually 1932.

“No, I am 72,” Mang Ben answered.

Minutes later, I asked him the same question, and he laughed: “I am 42 years old.” Memory and mirth have a way of mixing in a confused way in this mischievous old man who is loved and at the same time feared in the fashion industry.

“Why do they call me mataray? Is it because I always say the honest truth?” he would ask. Some models say his being so strict makes him mataray.

Bb. Pilipinas International 1991 Patty Betita recalls: “When Mang Ben got me and Mellany Carlos to do Moda Maynila, a weekly fashion show at Manila Hotel, we mischievously peeked through the velvet curtains checking on who were in the audience. Mang Ben saw us and gave us a stern warning in front of all the models backstage. We were so embarrassed. He didn’t talk to us for a while until one Christmas, we went to his Bel-Air home to apologize. After that, I did countless shows and pictorials for him. Mang Ben taught us the value of discipline, love for work, and professionalism.”

But he can also be lovingly strict. Bb. Pilipinas Universe 1989 Sara Jane Paez- Santiago remembers: “Once, when I was fitting a gown, I told him I was not comfortable wearing it. He said: ‘Hayaan mo na, ikaw pa rin ang pinakamagandang Maruja’ ... What else could I do but wear it?”

His being a stickler for punctuality also astounds friends. Once, he hosted a weekend stay for friends at his Quezon resort house. He announced to them that breakfast would be at 8 a.m., lunch at 12 noon.  A few guests woke up late at past 9 a.m. and asked if they could have breakfast. “Sorry, you’re late. Breakfast is over.”

He is fearsome and at the same time too funny. Danny Dolor, one of Mang Ben’s few longtime friends who have known him since the mid ’50s, has a bagful of anecdotes about this designer whom he met when his sister Fe Dolor Serrano, then one of Manila’s renowned debutantes, would go to Mang Ben for gowns. He had an endearing name for his close friends. Mang Ben baptized Danny Dolor as Suzy Parker perhaps for his love for elegance, while he called interior designer Joaquin Imperial the Snow White with Seven Hoodlums.

“Ben had this signature practice of dropping a plate to the floor and announcing: “The party’s over,” every time he made his customary French leave, or if he wanted the party to end because it was too late in the night,” recalls Danny.  “And everybody would just laugh ... Once, on a four-day trip to Baguio, Ben brought three suitcases of clothes! His own clothes and shoes. There was no pictorial.”

They were an art-loving bunch — the Mabini Group which included designer Pitoy Moreno, artist Oscar Zalameda, architect Edgar Ramirez, Swiss gallery owner Bernard Fah, and art collector Teyet Pascual. It is said that the group’s imaginary scenarios may have started the legendary fight between Pitoy and Zalameda, with Teyet as the provocateur. But all that is buried deep in the ground, together with the passing of the colorful characters. 

Ben Farrales and Pitoy Moreno were perceived as the Nora Aunor-Vilma Santos of the fashion world, and many stories have been woven around this intense professional rivalry. During the tribute, I asked Mang Ben how he felt about Pitoy who is now confined at a hospital. He bowed his head in silence, as he held on to his wheelchair, with a tearful eye. Sometimes silence is more eloquent than words. Mang Ben, after all, has a soft heart inside that formidable facade.

In fact, during the fashion-tribute to him last Saturday, he was in tears most of the time. As he sat down, he saw the huge “Mang Ben” logo written on the stage, and he asked me: “”Wow, my name is there, so big?” And he immediately pulled out his white handkerchief to wipe his tears.

“Why are you crying?” I asked.

“Naiiyak ako, nakaka-touch!” he replied. And I reminded him that the show had not even begun.

When it did, the models came out one by one wearing his creations. First, the sexy resortwear collection, mostly in green. “Ang ganda nila!” Ben exclaimed.  And then, the Muslim-inspired collection, showing his beautiful stylized malongs. “Ang ganda, ano?” he gasped. As a young man, Ben stayed for two years in Mindanao with his sister Aida Pendatun, wife of a congressman-turned-senator, and it was she who opened his eyes to the richness of the Muslim culture and nurtured his designing talent. When his formal gowns and bridal ensembles came out, he sighed again: “Ang ganda! Ang mga models, ang gaganda nila, no?” When the Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra began playing native tunes and accompanied singer Bituin Escalante, he said again: “Ang ganda! Ang ganda ng mga tugtog!”

The dam broke when Minamahal was sung and the models started singing the tune themselves and shouted: “Mahal na mahal ka namim, Mang Ben!”  

The annotation during the show, directed by Ogie Atos, with the clothes curated by Nolie Hans, narrated very human anecdotes about Ben being matipid and masinop. Growing up during the war, Ben learned how it was to be a survivor, doing jobs as shoeshine boy, selling corn and matamis na bao on pandesal at the pier. This certainly developed his work ethic and his sense of values.  Diplomat Agnes Huibonhoa recalls that Ben was a very industrious purchaser and merchandiser at Poulex, the department store owned by her mom (Florencia Tankeh). “He would even miss his lunch breaks, and stayed extra hours when suppliers came with merchandise from the United States. My fondest memory of him was when I was a young girl and he would let me try on the latest merchandise and gave me tips on how they should be worn. We had so much fun.”

As the waiters brought in each delicious-looking course during the dinner, Ben would say:  “Can we have this wrapped for take-home?” He said it three times for the three courses, from appetizer to main dish to dessert. His two caregivers said he had eaten dinner at home. And at the end, he asked me: “Do you think they will charge me for the take-home food?” I laughed and reminded him that he was the honoree during the dinner. That is Mang Ben, always making sure nothing ever goes to waste.

I told him he would probably be asked to go up the stage to deliver a speech. “Really? I will go up the stage? Type na rin!” That was vintage Ben making you laugh.

Just then, an elderly man, looking very dignified, sat on our table to get a better view of the show. “Do you know that man, Mang Ben? Who is he?”

His answer: “Maybe he is the designer?”

Memory and mischief again!. Was he being funny?  I myself was confused with my feelings. I wanted to laugh. And I wanted to cry.

The spirit was willing, but Mang Ben obviously had to stay in his wheelchair instead of going up the stage. So people started approaching him to pay respects. Rustan’s venerable 93-year-old patriarch, Ambassador Bienvenido Tantoco, approached him with a symbolic sculpture, in recognition of his contribution to the fashion industry. Again, Mang Ben kept wiping tears from his eyes.

And then fashionable society ladies, many of them wearing Ben Farrales creations, went to him with bouquets of flowers, kissing him, holding his hands. The models went downstage, chanting, “Mahal ka namim, Mang Ben! Mahal na mahal ka namim!” as they stood around him, while Mang Ben’s tears flowed non-stop.

“All I have created, I leave to young designers to emulate, I can go now. I can leave.”

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Follow the author on Instagram and Facebook @milletmartinezmananquil, Email mananquilmillet@gmail.com.