Geolette Marie Esguerra

A Love Letter to the Philippines in Couture: Rajo Laurel’s LAHI Shines in Bangkok

Article (news)

<p>There are fashion shows you attend, and then there are moments that form part of the cultural chasm. Malikhaing Pinoy: Lahi in Bangkok was the latter. As the sun dipped toward the horizon at Dusit Thani Bangkok on the last weekend of January, the sky slowly turned gold, the air softened, and Rajo Laurel’s 33-piece couture collection unfolded against a literal golden hour. It was a golden moment for Philippine design to shine, on a regional stage, in sister-city Thailand.</p><div><br/></div><p>For many in the audience, the evening felt like coming full circle. It certainly did for me. I wrote one of my earliest fashion features on Rajo years ago, when he reworked a Ramon Valera gown for a bride I was featuring—an early glimpse into a designer already cognizant of the importance of heritage and tradition. Since then, I’ve followed his evolution through countless editorials, features, and even a milestone show: Rajo Laurel’s Metrowear Icon, which we mounted in 2013, marking his 20th year in fashion. </p><p>I am no stranger to his process—his instinct to look backward to move forward, his discipline in craft, his belief that fashion carries meaning and stories, and the designer communicates all this.</p><p>In Bangkok, that philosophy crystallized into something deeply personal. LAHI, presented by the Department of Trade and Industry (DTI) through the Philippine Creative Industries Development Council (PCIDC), felt unmistakably like Rajo’s love letter to the Philippines.</p><p>Fashion as cultural inquiry</p><p>The showcase formed part of PCIDC’s partnership with Thailand’s Creative Economy Agency (CEA), positioning Filipino design within a broader regional dialogue. Yet on the runway, the narrative was intimate. LAHI unfolded as a study of identity, of geography, history, and community, aptly translated into form, textile, and silhouette.</p><div><br/></div><p>Rajo has long approached fashion as cultural inquiry. Here, he asked a question that hovered over the entire collection: Who is the Filipino? The answer was not singular, but layered, much like the garments themselves. Tradition was present, but never frozen. Instead, it was filtered through a contemporary eye: lighter, more fluid, more architectural in restraint.</p><div><br/></div><p>The “Mestiza” look reinterpreted the palma and camisa/blusa using woven and dyed jusi from Iloilo, paired with raw silk and abaca from Abra—an interplay of translucency and structure. “Kadayawan” drew from Mindanao’s celebratory spirit, combining handwoven straw from Sorsogon with Ilocos-woven textiles, bringing regional techniques into a sharply modern proportion.</p><p>With “Datu,” references to T’boli heritage emerged through paper silk, ramie linen, and the malong, grounded by indigenous materials like a Benguet tampipi and Dumaguete beadwork. Meanwhile, “Manileña” and “Bagong Barong” proposed new directions for the barong tagalog—farmer-inspired silhouettes, jute elements, and artisanal accessories reframing a national symbol without diluting its meaning.</p><div><br/></div><p>Across the collection, collaboration was central. Accessories and handcrafted works by Arnel Papa, Celestina Maristela Ocampo, Cholo Ayuyao, Monchét Diokno Olives, and MX Studios by Maxine Santos Tuaño extended the garments into full cultural statements. A look inspired by Baguio weaver Nada Capunan brought Mountain Province narratives into the mix, paired with a crocodile bag from Masbate. “Paradiso,” meanwhile, merged Palawan pearls with Bacolod capiz shells—nature, craft, and fantasy in quiet balance.</p><p>A vocabulary for Philippine fashion</p><p>Watching the models emerge one by one as the light shifted was almost cinematic. No theatrics necessary. The setting sun did the work, casting warmth across fabrics that already carried stories of land, sea, and community. It was a reminder that Filipino design does not need to imitate global aesthetics to belong on the global stage. It arrives with its own vocabulary, a layered language of textures and materials, of fabrics and weaves, of indigenous cultures juxtaposed with modernity.</p><div><br/></div><p>For those of us who have tracked Rajo’s journey, LAHI felt like both continuation and culmination. The designer who once reworked a Valera gown is the same designer here, still in dialogue with history, but now speaking with even greater clarity. The scale may have grown, the platform widened, but the core remains: respect for craft, curiosity about identity, and a belief in collaboration as creative force.</p><div><br/></div><p>Creativity and diplomacy</p><p>Beyond the runway, Malikhaing Pinoy: Lahi underscored a broader vision. The Malikhaing Pinoy Program, under R.A. No. 11904 or the Philippine Creative Industries Development Act, positions creativity as economic and cultural capital. By bringing LAHI to Bangkok, DTI and PCIDC framed fashion not only as art, but as diplomacy, an exchange of stories, skills, and possibilities across borders. The best is yet to come. But for now, we wait for Rajo and DTI to bring his collection to Manila so we can fully appreciate what the Philippines has to offer, this time on our shores. </p>

<p><i>Rajo Laurel’s LAHI collection unfolds in Bangkok as a couture love letter to the Philippines—where heritage, craft, and identity take their place in the international creative spotlight</i></p>

Rajo Laurel’s LAHI collection unfolds in Bangkok as a couture love letter to the Philippines—where heritage, craft, and identity take their place in the international creative spotlight