Jo Ann Bitagcol’s creative designs are available in a pop-up store at Powerplant Mall until January 2025.
Not too long ago, I was at designer Jo Ann Bitagcol’s atelier in Poblacion with friends. She was showing us some of her designs, and I couldn’t stop smiling at the ingenuity of this woman.
Jo Ann’s version of Filipiniana—or her way of bringing them out of the baul and into the modern times— is not to deconstruct or modify the traditional silhouette of the terno and leave only the hard-as-plywood sleeves, but to take the traditional dress in its entirety and print images of it on modern designs.
You can be wearing oversized shirts, deconstructed skirts, or palazzo pants (I swear the backlash against millennials’ skinny jeans is way over the top—but that’s another story), and still be wearing a piece of the past.
The prints are not ordinary photos. First, she took the pictures; second, she took them for a book; and third, the pieces of clothing are antique.
“Many of them are more than a hundred years old,” she says.
That’s how they got to be in the 2015 book Fashionable Filipina: An Evolution of the Philippine National Dress in Photographs 1860-1960, produced by businessman Ben Chan, educator Mark Higgins and scenographer Gino Gonzales.
Looking at the pictures of terno, barong and saya, I thought of how, centuries before, these were worn on the streets every day, through wars, peacetime and the culture-crushing decades of the past hundred years. They seemed so fragile that the threads would come undone if somebody sneezed in the room. Or they would disintegrate like vampires at the peep of daybreak.
As the times changed, the succeeding generations in these families had the fantastic foresight to keep them in their lola’s baul. Not one of them thought they smelled overwhelmingly of naphthalene balls, bagged them and gave them away. Not one did a Mari Kondo and threw them out—or perhaps they did and found that they sparked so much joy from holding them in their hands.
I don’t know how Jo Ann processed these photos but the prints have an ethereal, ghostly quality set on black background.
A post-modernist Cinderella story
You can’t invent shit like this. Which is why I never tire of hearing the story of how Jo Ann Bitagcol was a factory worker in Bulacan and transformed into a supermodel in Manila. All because of pancit.
On a quiet Holy Week sometime in the ‘90s, Jo Ann was eating in a panciteria when three fashion industry movers saw her: a tall, slim girl completely oblivious to who they were.
“And what did they say to you, ‘Hija, gusto mong maging model?’” I asked.
“Exactly,” she said.
But Jo Ann wasn’t your typical probinsiyana; she wasn’t even your typical beauty. She was chinita, morena, gangly. From being a factory worker in a cotton mill, she became one of the country’s top models.
Even at a young age, she wasn’t really into conventional ideas or established narratives. She was always independent, seeking something more, something bigger than her own narrative. After doing modeling as long as she could, she became bored, and picked up photography.
She had always wondered, she said, why a photographer shooting a model for her portfolio or style book took so long and so many outtakes. When it was her turn to do it, the sessions were quick, on-point, and drama-free. Then came a brief period of working behind the scenes of fashion shows.
Coords and a dress (below left) printed with traditional Filipiniana clothing
Her most creative phase came in 2020 during the pandemic, when she began designing satin silk scarves that were printed with her digital photos. The images captured elements of Philippine life, heritage, and culture “immediately drawing distinction for her brand Bitagcol.” From the first collection of scarves, her product range grew to include signature T-shirt barong, robes, dresses, aprons, and skirts.
Jo Ann participated in trade fairs and soon she needed a showroom. Earlier this year, she opened her atelier in Poblacion.
“The work I do with Bitagcol is rooted in the desire to celebrate and honor our culture,” Jo Ann said. “I wanted to bring this vision to a wider market by holding a pop-up this holiday season. The space is for those who have not yet been to the showroom or experienced the brand.”
Restarting, moving forward
For the pop-up “Restart: looking back and moving forward,” Jo Ann revisited well-loved prints from past collections. “Since this is the first pop-up, I wanted to share the prints and bestsellers that put our brand on the map,” she said. Instead of simply reproducing these well-loved pieces, the visual artist explored new shapes, silhouettes, fabrication, and details.
“We will still carry the signature shirts, of course, but we are adding long dresses into the mix along other pieces that utilize lace. Three new baro prints will also be introduced via oversized scarves that can either be worn or framed as works of art.”
The open space on the second floor of the Powerplant Mall reflects Jo Ann’s minimalist yet relaxed design inclinations. The visual artist shares that apart from garments, the pop-up will carry home accessories that feature her iconic prints in time for the holidays.
There will also be Pastillas prints that add a pop of color and vibrance to oversized coasters. Her brand’s collaboration with S.C Vizcarra is also reimagined this season as placemats.
“We wanted the pop-up space to feel like home. We sought to build an ideal platform to introduce home accessories to our collection. The pop-up may be a new location, but it will remain as homey and welcoming as the studio.”
The decision to venture into the home category was informed by requests from clients. “It was very inspiring to hear that patrons of the brand want our heritage to be present everywhere. A part of an entire lifestyle,” she said. “This is a new venture for the brand that inspired me to think of a refresh. To look back, but move forward.”
“Restart” pop-up store is located on the 2nd floor of Powerplant Mall. For updates, follow Jo Ann Bitagcol on Instagram.
