One of my text mates is Mang Nado, the patternmaker. On weekday mornings, I usually wake up to some texts from him. Fabric running out, deadline he can't meet (argh!), samples that are done, request for advance payment, etc.
The work I do is small and quiet. And it's something I appreciate and love deeply.
There are days of course when it's lonely sitting alone in my room, forcing a design to appear on paper, or making cost computations.
On most days too, like today, I feel so grateful that I get to do what I love.
Last night a friend from the US emailed me to say she needs a Filipiniana dress for an oath-taking ceremony in a Fil-Am organization in her city.
She sent this picture as reference:
She wants this feel but with a modern take.
I wish I were an excellent writer and I can describe well to you the joy I felt when I read my friend's email brief and when I saw this photo. I immediately saw myself going through rolls of beautiful jusi or pina. I could imagine the feel of the fabric in my hands, examining the smooth to rough textures, scanning the habi with my fingers. I could feel the thrill of asking the shop girl for several yards of precious fabric (oftentimes I just have to content myself with looking and feeling). I could hear the scissors cutting through the weave, the crunch-crunch of each cut. Wow. I could picture my friend (she's tall and slender) wearing a pristine dress with exaggerated bell sleeves and a short hem. It's so yummy, just thinking about it.
It's a silent joy that I wish I can explain better. This love for fabric and deep love too for the ardous task of shaping it into a piece that one will love for a long time.