For one, personalized styles that emerged in different periods are still in vogue. Except for “Valentino” and
“Pierre Cardin,” the rest are named after former top officials of the land: Presidents Diosdado Macapagal, Ferdinand Marcos, Corazon Aquino, Fidel Ramos and Emmanuel Pelaez, Macapagal’s vice president who also served as ambassador to the United States.

“Macapagal” is also known as “all over” because the barong chokes with embroidery. It’s akin to “straight” in that the principal embroidery forms parallel columns on the shirtfront, but is much wider so that it occupies almost the entire bodice. The sleeves and the back carry equally dense embroidery. Embroidery motifs match the style—a hodgepodge of practically everything, done larger than usual.

The basic design of “Marcos” flashes the letter “V,” the signature hand sign of President Marcos. Initially exclusive to him, the shirt gave rise to copies by popular demand, though the embroidery motifs of the original were never reproduced for other customers. These are small, simple but refined floral forms carving the letter “V,” and, later, the letter “M” (for Marcos, what else?) on the chest. The overall effect is a throwback to letras y figuras, a visual-art form wherein objects spell out a word or a name when seen from a distance. It was introduced in Europe during the Middle Ages to embellish the first letters of prayer books or ecclesiastical chapters. In the Philippines it is associated with Jose Lozano (1815-85), who used local scenes and flora and fauna for illustration.

“Cory” resembles “batok” and “executive.” It has full embroidery, dominated by puntorial and inubas motifs, on the chest, nape and sleeves. The front embroidery tapers to the center, then fans out in opposite directions.

“Raya” was renamed “de Ramos” during Fidel V. Ramos’s term, probably because its heraldic design connoted high office. Here embroidery radiates from front to back and even all the way to the sleeves. In its more intricate version, “raya pechera,” two vertical bands of embroidery flank the pechera and shoot over at the back into four vertical bands. However, the shirt that’s most identified with Ramos is the barong of any style that’s rolled up to the elbows. The (unlit) cigar-chomping President has a habit of literally rolling up his sleeves before buckling down to work.

A restrained version of “Macapagal,” “Pelaez” features more complex embroidery techniques in a rather wide area on the chest. However, only basic motifs are scattered on the back and sleeves.

“Valentino,” obviously inspired by Rudolf Valentino, the dashing superstar of the 1920s, first emerged in the 1940s variety show, the bodabil. It was popularized by the King of Philippine Movies, Leopoldo
Salcedo, whose legendary good looks bore a resemblance to the King of American Movies. Fashion historian Eric V. Cruz describes the style as “a striped jusi, with terrible sheen and in colors ranging from black to blood red . . . a barong Tagalog that dazzled the eyes, not because of its elaborate embroideries, but [because of] the attachment of hundreds of metal sequins which flashed like blinding searchlights in all imaginable colors.” The style didn’t die with Salcedo. Its modern reincarnations, all gaud and glitter like the original, are worn by show-biz personalities to add sparkle to the spotlight.

Sometime in the 1970s the barong’s silhouette underwent a radical change. Giovanni Sanna, a French designer of the famous Pierre Cardin house of fashion, opened a branch in Manila. Fascinated with the barong, which was then starting to make headway on the international scene, he retooled the garment’s
configuration. The result was the so-called Pierre Cardin Look, later vulgarized to “gardan,” a style of markedly different cut. Sanna updated the loose, straight cut of the traditional barong to the fashion idiom of the times: “the contoured bodice, flared hemline with complicated construction of slits at the back, stiff pointed collars and flared stiff pointed cuffs,” says Cruz. With the tapered silhouette came simpler geometric embroidery motifs punctuating strategic areas along the bodice.

Too bad Sanna failed to take into account the hot Philippine climate and the nature of jusi and piña. Here was a style that was definitely sleek in appearance but uncomfortable to wear. Jusi and piña aren’t exactly the right materials for sewing too close to the body as they easily wrinkle under stress. By the eighties, the Pierre Cardin barong, the great hit of the seventies, became just a piece of nostalgia fashion victims laughed about.

The best proof of the barong’s ability to adapt to the times and to every setting imaginable is the “polo barong,” a short-sleeved version of the garment. Not only is it airier, it’s also cheaper and easier to wash and iron, being made from low-maintenance fabrics such as cotton, Philippine ramie and natural and synthetic blends such as chiffonille and santana. Thus it has become the favorite all-occasion wear of Filipino men of all walks of life. Although designed for comfort and ease of movement, the polo barong keeps the sartorial panache and dignity of the traditional barong. No wonder it has found its way to church, school, office or any place that requires some amount of Sunday dressing and comportment.

The barong has also penetrated the female wardrobe. Worn either as a blouse or as a full outfit, the “barong dress” is a ubiquitous presence in weddings, graduations and other momentous gatherings.
Lately a daring Manila couturier broke all rules and brought the barong to the beach.

Credit it to globalization. The barong is making an impact on the international scene with styles befitting temperate climes. The hybrid “americana” retains pechera embroidery on the chest and the typical barong silhouette, but its dark color and thicker, fuller fabric places it closer to the Western suit. The “guayabera” barong, with its two or four pockets on the shirt’s front and heavier material, also caters to the world market.

Where’s the barong going from here? A long way yonder. This chameleon of a garment has managed, so to speak, to go with the flow—not just streaming along, but surfing the waves.