A century after his birth, this tribute unravels the couturier’s artistry, influence, and lasting imprint on the global fashion conversation
Le Figaro once crowned Pitoy Moreno as “the Fashion Czar of Asia.” Other publications shared this praise — the Honolulu Star Bulletin called him, “the greatest Filipino couturier” and Asia Magazine offered him the title of “high priest of fashion”. If fashion is a language, then Jose “Pitoy” Moreno spoke in the eloquent dialect of grandeur. His sentences were created in jusi and piña, punctuated with pearls, and always ended in a dramatic terno sleeve. This year, as the Metropolitan Museum of Manila opens Timeless: J. Moreno, an exhibition honoring his centennial, presenting him as an iconic designer, enduring couturier, and influential figure who transformed heritage into glamourous moments everywhere he can.
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Dressing the Nation, Dressing the World
Moreno wasn’t in the business of making clothes; he was in the business of making history. Manila society swanned about in his exquisite ternos, but his reach went far beyond the archipelago. He dressed royalty, Hollywood legends, and political power players with a signature touch: a fusion of indigenous textiles and cosmopolitan influences. Showing that Filipino craftsmanship belonged on the world’s most rarified stages, his gowns graced Buckingham Palace, the Japanese imperial court, and the halls of Malacañang.
No relation, but perhaps it helped with some good luck superstition. One of his most famous creations found its way to the Academy Awards—twice. In 1962, Rita Moreno, fresh from filming Cry of Battle in Manila, donned a Pitoy Moreno gown to accept her Oscar for West Side Story. Decades later, in 2018, she wore it again, proving that true couture, much like an Oscar win, never fades. This dress even inspired a Rita Moreno Barbie by Mattel in celebration of the actress’ 93rd birthday, a full-circle moment of glamour and legacy.
Terno as Theater
The OPM group Hotdog immortalized a type of woman who knew the power of her presence — someone who understood that fashion was their armor and allure. In their 1996 hit Bongga Ka Day!, they sang of her grand entrance, draped in a Pitoy Moreno creation, commanding the room before she even spoke.
While the Western world had its ball gowns and buckles, Moreno championed the terno—a garment that stood as proudly as the women who wore it. But his approach was anything but provincial. He took the Maria Clara and, for the Bayanihan Dance Company, made it stage-ready: one zipper, quick change. For society swans and political wives, he restored its formality, preserving its multi-piece elegance. He experimented with obi-like skirts, Chinese brocades, and Indian embellishments, turning tradition into something more evolving.
When the Bayanihan Dance Company took the screen on The Ed Sullivan Show, beaming into 40 million American homes, it was a rare moment of Filipino culture breaking into the mainstream. Ethnic dances met modern Filipino design in a way that was almost unheard of at the time. Today, when a dance company steps onto a stage in full regalia, those costumes may seem like the standard. But they all trace back to Moreno—his designs for Bayanihan set the template that generations would follow.
Even in Paris, Moreno made a case for Filipino textiles. Pierre Cardin was a friend, often asking him about such textiles. But by the time Moreno was done dressing royalty, Hollywood icons, and political power players, the world knew his name. Thus, he tried—valiantly—to introduce European designers to the gossamer wonders of piña and jusi, but supply constraints kept these fabrics from taking over French ateliers. That didn’t stop him from using them to create a distinct Filipino couture with international sophistication.
A Couturier for All
Moreno’s world was draped in silk and diplomacy. He dressed first ladies from Imelda Marcos to Loi Ejercito, but he was never just a couturier of the elite—he was, quite literally, everyone’s couturier.
He designed the wedding gown of Susan Roces when she married Fernando Poe Jr., crafting a dress for Philippine cinema’s love story. He was fraternity brothers with the likes of Salvador Laurel and Ferdinand Marcos, yet his loyalties lay with the artistry of the dress rather than the politics of the wearer.
A Century in Couture, A Lifetime in Influence
This centennial exhibition, envisioned by his family, is as a retrospective as it is a revival. Moreno’s niece vowed to preserve his legacy, ensuring that new generations understand that Filipino fashion didn’t start and end with colonial influences; it was always its own force, bold and self-assured. The exhibit also sets a new benchmark for fashion curation in the country, reinforcing the idea that clothing, especially at this level, is something to be studied, collected, and revered.
His legacy is further meticulously documented in Timeless: J. Moreno, an academic study of Filipino dress history, positioning Moreno not just as a couturier but as a cultural figure shaping how the world sees Filipino style. The book presents a look at Moreno’s creations through his own lens, unfiltered by patronage.
The curation in Timeless: J. Moreno is a biography, a story flown into every butterfly sleeve. Pitoy Moreno was, is, and will always be—very couture, very global, very Filipino.
Photographed by TIMOTHY DUEÑAS
