For my wedding, I considered going with the basic “monkey suit”
option…for approximately twenty seconds. I thought I’d go with
something that was both traditional and unusual (at least in this
corner of the world) and wear the traiditonal Filipino formal wear, a Barong Tagalog, which is often shortened to “barong”. When I told Dad that I wanted
to wear one, he suggested that the men in the wedding party wear
barongs also. September 24th just became Barongapalooza!
Family photo taken in Manila in April 2000 before my
cousin Rowena’s wedding. From left to right: My brother-in-law Richard,
Yours Truly, my sister Eileen, Mom, and in the centre, Dad.
Originally called the “baro ng Tagalog” — “dress of the Tagalog” —
and condensed to just two words, the Barong Tagalog is considered to be
just as formal as a suit or even black tie, but is considerably more
comfortable, especially in a hot and humid climate.
Ray Charles would’ve looked good in a barong.
A barong is an embroidered shirt made of a sheer material called pina, which is woven from fibers extracted from pineapple leaves. Some barongs are made of pina blended with jusi
(Chinese silk). Barongs are cut larger than your typical dress shirt
and are worn untucked, over the pants. I’m surprised hip-hop artists
haven’t caught onto them yet.
Me, my sister Eileen and brother-in-law Richard.
The barong is co-opted fashion. The Spanish colonials who took over the
Philippines 400 years ago demanded that the natives wear the precursor
to the modern barong. Its sheerness made it impossible to hide weapons
(knife-fighting is a Filipino martial art), its lack of pockets made
thievery impossible, and wearing it untucked separated the natives from
the Spaniards, who were the only people allowed to wear their shirts
tucked in.
Playing the wedding march at my friends Thaba and Phet’s
wedding, September 2000. “Hey fellas! What’s cooler than being cool!
Barong Tagalog and accordion — ICE COLD!“
Even under colonization, some natives prospered. While still required to
wear the barong to mark themselves as inferior to the Spanish colonials, they began adding designs and embroidery to
the barong. A modern equivalent to this sort of co-opting can be seen
in today’s baggy and oversized hip-hop clothing worn by rap artists:
the look is derived from ill-fitting prison clothes.
We “Flips” be tha
original bad-asses, yo.
My main rival in the quest for the title of “Biggest clown in the deVilla clan”: my cousin Freddie.
It would not be until the 20th century that the Barong Tagalog would
gain prestige. That was when president Manuel Quezon declared it “The
National Dress”. It would take a few more decades and presidents for the barong to
rise in stature, as the strong American influence in the Philippines
made the suit — particularly the sharkskin suit the preferred dress outfit. (Dad was married in
one; he looked so “Goodfellas”!) President Magsaysay would later elevate it to formalwear.
However, it was President Ferdinand Marcos who would really popularize
it; first by enlisting the help of Pierre Cardin to modernize it, then
by requiring government employees to wear barongs and finally, by
declaring an offical “Barong Tagalog Week” in 1975.
Aunts, uncles and parents. From left to right: (Rear) my
aunt Beth deVilla, Mom, uncle Ravenal “Baby” Santos. (Front) Dad, aunt
Thelma Leelin, uncle Fred Leelin.
The barong also went less formal. A short-sleeved variant appeared in
the 70s and can be considered business attire. In the 1990s, an even
more casual cotton version would start appearing in surf and skateboard
shops and later in my own wardrobe.
My brother-in-law Richard demonstrates the upside of
globalization: when else in history could a Korean guy from Canada
enjoy an icy Tiazzo at the Starbucks in Forbes Park, Manila while
wearing a barong?
Like the tuxedo, some designers have gone wild and made the barong in
all sorts of colours, but the classic barong simply uses the natural
colour of the pina or jusi fibres, ranging from off-white to ecru. It’s traditionally worn over the traditional undershirt, the camisa de chino, but often a thin white t-shirt will do. Button it up all the way to the top, add black dress pants (remember to not tuck the barong in) and dress shoes, and you’re stylin’ and ready to go!
Manny and I did the readings at Rowena’s wedding.
The invitees from the deVilla side were surprised to hear that the male
members of the wedding party and I would be wearing barongs. The
assumption is that in North America, even a Filipino groom would typically
wear a suit. Howver, since this wedding is going to be an unusual blend
of Jewish and Filipino customs, why not go all out? Upon hearing that I
was going to wear a barong, many of my relatives announced that they
too would wear them. Combined with yarmulkes, we’ll be creating a whole
new look in formalwear.
(If the barong-and-yarmulke fashion catches on, remember: you read it here first!)
If you’re attending the wedding and looking for something a little
different to wear, a barong is an acceptable option. Apparently you can
even order one online — MyBarong.com
does same-day shipping to anywhere in the continental U.S.. I have no
idea of the quality of their goods, but if you’re really interested in
getting a barong, contact me and I’ll see about getting one made in the
Philippines for you.
And now, a very special notice for the best man, George Tudor Scriban: Get off your tuchus, stop being such a yutz and get me those measurements already!
Some Barong Reading:
