By: Telly Gonzaga-Ocampo
A Love Note to Our Cultural Heritage on the Hemline, the Veil, and the Half-Slip
The news cycle today is loud. No impeachment proceedings on the docket, thank God — it’s Thursday. And so I let myself drift to something gentler. Something beautiful. Lu-od ug makapungot man gud ning impeachment trial. So I do what I’ve always done when the world gets too heavy: I remember!
I remember that Robinhood Padilla is gwapo diay, period. I only noticed now. In my youth, I never really idolized movie stars. Except George Hamilton in Madame X. Except for Rhett Butler — Clark Gable in Gone with the Wind. And Sean Connery. No James Bond actor, not even in the 007s I watched, could ever compare to Sean Connery.
I grew up on classics: Anne of the Thousand Days, Don Miguel De Cervantes, The Sound of Music, Somewhere in Time, and yes, Gone with the Wind. Films where the dialogue was slow, the dresses were long, and the drama didn’t need a microphone to be heard.
The Hemline, The Veil, and The Half-Slip
I had a good laugh the other day listening to Ted Ayeng and his team talk about the new craze: pickleball. They showed a senior citizen playing — probably still in her 60s — with her underwear peeking out over her short sports skirt.
That image stopped me. Not because it was funny, but because it made me realize how wide the culture gap has become.
In my time, a half-slip was not optional. It was necessary. Aron dili manghungaw ug dili mawalis imong saya ug maghangin. Lace-edged, always. If your blouse was thin, you wore a sando underneath. If your dress had no lining, you wore a chemise.
In high school and college, our uniforms were measured — two inches below the knee, no exceptions. Mother Belarmine herself would check. And yes, Mother Belarmine was the older sister of Madam Imelda Marcos.
We were taught that dressing was about propriety. For Mass, we planned it days ahead: a proper dress, a veil, a missal, rosary beads in hand. The priest faced the altar. No microphone. No TV screens. Just the Latin, the silence, and the sea breeze coming through the windows.
The Sea, The Stars, and 5 Centavos Baon
What did we have for entertainment? We had the basics.
We had the sea. We had the moon and the stars. We climbed trees for the fruits and flowers when they were ripe for picking. We went to the shore for panud-an and came home full with kinudkud nga lubi for the swaki we gathered. Bahaw was ready at the start of ebbtide. And there was always the baliaut spring for paghinawnaw.
Our biggest demand in school was 5 centavos for baon. That was enough. That was plenty. We didn’t have much, but we had rituals. We had modesty. We had time.
A Prayer for the Youth
I don’t write this to say the old days were better. I write this because I hope and pray the youth of today will get a taste of it — from home and from school. A taste of our cultural and historical facts. Of what it meant to dress with intention. To go to church with a veil. To find joy in a tree, a tide, and a story told without special effects.
The world now talks about pickleball and livestreams. And that’s fine. Progress is good. But let’s not forget the half-slip, the sando and the kamison. Let’s not forget the quiet. Let’s not forget decency.
Because in remembering, we keep something sacred alive.
