Costumes In Concert

Hear Direk Freddie Santos

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02 Blog 7 Costumes in Concert

It was a steadfast rule: NO FASHION SHOWS at the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP). It was also a steadfast rule: Lito Perez will do whatever whim floats across his vivid imagination. Lito Perez has always been one fanciful designer and in the early 80’s, he opened up Manila’s only costume store, Camp Suki (emphasis on CAMP).

When his store was still located near my parents’ house where I used to live, I would pass his store and always, as in always, think about how clever and sophisticated the window displays were. When I finally met the guy, that was the first thing I told him and that must have sparked off a good thing because in 1985, he called me up to ask if I could direct his forthcoming show at the CCP Main Theater: Costumes In Concert.

Costumes in what?

It was Lito’s way of working around the house rule. He had contracted the resident orchestra to accompany each of his Costume Lines, live, and it was this format that allowed him to hold the first ever “Fashion Show” (notice the quotes) in the history of the CCP. I was intrigued no end. I couldn’t say no and Lito and I immediately went into working out the show.
Before we go any further, let me introduce a Filipino word for which there is no English equivalent: Lihi. Generally, it translates into a “craving” felt by women in their early pregnancy but which develops into a character trait seen in the child. Whether the craving is for sour things or sweet things, beautiful people or a certain outstanding someone, said qualities are supposed to come out in the baby as he or she grows up.

In the case of Lito, the “lihi” must have been the Ziegfeld Follies. The fancy, the fantasy, the foibles and the frou-frou, Lito insisted they be on overflow. He was treating the concert as a way of securing his foothold in the costume-renting market, well, at least that’s what we told ourselves. He just really wanted to have a screaming affair, I think.
The show presented about ten different Costume Lines accompanied by the appropriate classical music selected from the orchestra’s repertoire. Lito took care of all the designs, including sets, and I looked after the music selection and staging.

Opening number was bizarre. The orchestra occupied much of the stage but a 16-foot tall 3D sculpture of the face from King Tut’s Sarcophagus stood in the back like a golden sphinx. The orchestra began to play the Grand March from Verdi’s Aida and more than 5 dozen models and musclemen paraded out on stage, each one skirted and pleated in gold and white. On cue, the orchestra pit — used now for staging purposes since the orchestra was already on stage – rose from the depths to reveal soprano Vina Gonzales who regaled us all with favourite aria Ritorna Vincitor while everyone stood on stage like hieroglyphics. Big number, big reception.

In fact, Costume Line after Costume Line, the audience reactions were as paper-perfect as you could get. The audience was only about 60% and from the way every number was cheered (despite a couple of last-minute costumes falling apart on stage), you’d swear they were all relatives of Lito. Or very kind friends out on a Saturday night.

Two more numbers stood out in my mind. The Grecian Line was the last set of costumes to be tackled because it was presumed to be easy. Bunch of togas, how hard was that? But Lito had also planned on having mythical animals like unicorns and a Pegasus on stage (of course!). As it turned out, the animal costumes did not make it in time for the show and there were no available models to come out during that number. That left us with just one body on stage in front of the entire orchestra: the dancer who would dance to Afternoon of a Faun. That may sound like a letdown after an opening number like the one I described but when that one dancer just happened to be the country’s favourite prima ballerina, Kirov-trained Lisa Macuja , believe me, those unicorns didn’t stand a chance.
Although I knew Lisa’s family from way back, this was my first time to work with her and her dancing was, in a word, ethereal. The audience cheered when she came on, they cheered when she left and they kept on cheering with every bow she took.

Then there was the finale which we all agreed had to be Filipiniana or Philippine dress. The setting was the Carnaval de Manila and everyone was dressed in Philippines 1918. The music was Philippine Airs, a ravishing symphonic arrangement of old Pinoy folk songs that had the audience applauding during the opening bars. Over the music, our stage actor friends dressed like barrio (countryside) townsfolk came out in a fiesta scenario after which the “Candidates” to the title “Reina de Carnaval” (Queen of the Carnival) were presented – beautiful girls in elaborate Maria Clara dresses. But since this contest was originally a fund-raising event back in the olden, golden days, the winner would always be the one who could sell the most votes. And with that, the Queen was announced: Debraliz Valasote. This pretty, perky, pudgy comedienne had a face so rubbery she couldn’t smile without bringing out chuckles from you.

When she took her “Victory Walk” around the stage, even the orchestra members were hard put to keep from laughing. I don’t know how many designers would ever allow their Big Fashion Show to end on such a spoofy note but I am so glad Lito permitted it. The whole night was campy anyway and it felt more strange to end on a seriously glamorous note than on a comic one. The way the whole audience applauded when Lito took his bows showed that on that one night, the “Lawbreaker” had made the right move.
(Super thanks to Lito Perez and Debraliz Valasote for the pics)

Direksions:
1. Respect Boundaries – Successful though Costumes in Concert was if only based on the “Bravo’s”, it was still a financial flop. Lito saw the big picture from a very distant viewpoint and as marketing strategy of making a loud noise to whip up new business, he may have been right. But this was costly and he really held nothing back. Impact is a great thing to spend for but when it hits your pocketbook badly, then it sucks. Somewhere along the way, balancing comes into being. You gotta let go of a unicorn or two.
2. Break Boundaries – then again, if it wasn’t for the ingenuity displayed in working around the existing house rule, such a show may never have happened. Right after the last curtain call, I was approached by then-Artistic Director of the CCP, National Artist for Music Lucrecia Kasilag. Her cheerful words to me were: “Congratulations! You know we don’t allow fashion shows here at the CCP but you guys did it! You found a way!”
3. Make New Boundaries – until that time, technology had never taken a front seat in my life. But one of the show’s major presenters was Sony which was distributed in the Philippines by The Solid Group of Companies owned by the family of Joseph and Elena Lim. Not long after, I got a call from one of its heads, Mrs. Susan Lim Tan who asked if I could be involved in their upcoming convention. That was 1986 and the relationship became so strong, I would be officially recognized as the Artistic Consultant for Sony in the Philippines for the ten years that followed. I am friends with that whole family to this very day.