A native woman wore, as she does now, a flowing skirt of gay colours—bright red, green, and white being the common choice. The length of train, and whether the garment be of cotton, silk, or satin, depends on her means. Corsets are not yet the fashion, but a chemisette, which just covers her breast, and a starched neckcloth (pañuelo) of piña or husi stuff are in common use. The pañuelo is square, and, being folded triangularly, it hangs in a point down the back and stands very high up at the neck, in the 17th century style, whilst the other two points are brooched where they meet at the top of the chemisette décolletée. To this chemisette are added immensely wide short sleeves. Her hair is brushed back from the forehead, without a parting, and coiled into a tight, flat chignon. In her hand she carries a fan, without which she would feel lost. Native women have an extravagant desire to possess jewellery—even if they never wear it. The head is covered with a white mantle of very thin material, sometimes figured, but more often this and the neckcloth are embroidered—a work in which they excel. Finally, her naked feet are partly enveloped in chinelas—a kind of slipper, flat, like a shoe-sole with no heel, but just enough upper in front to put four toes inside. Altogether, the appearance of a Philippine woman of well-to-do family dressed on a gala day is curious, sometimes pretty, but, in any case, admirably suited to the climate.
Since 1898 American example, the great demand for piña muslin, at any price, by American ladies, and the scarcity of this texture, due to the plants having been abandoned during the wars, have necessarily brought about certain modifications in female attire.
There is something very picturesque in the simple costume of a peasant woman going to market. She has no flowing gown, but a short skirt, enveloped in a tápis, generally of cotton. It is simply a rectangular piece of stuff; as a rule, all blue, red, or black. It is tucked in at the waist, drawn very tightly around the loins, and hangs over the skirt a little below the knees, the open edges being at the back.
At times the better class wear the more becoming short skirt and tápis of silk or satin, with gold-lace embroidered chinelas. This dress is elegant, and adds a charm to the wearer.
The tápi is smaller. It is not used in the street; it is a sort of négligé apparel worn in the house only, or for going to the bath. The poorest classes go to the river-side to bathe in it. It is drawn all around from the waist downwards.
The patadiong is more commonly worn by the Visaya than the northern woman. It is somewhat like the tápis, but is drawn round the waist from the back, the open edges meeting, more or less, at the front. In Luzon Island the old women generally prefer this to the tápis.
On feast days and special occasions, or for dances, the young women who can afford it sport the gaudy flowing gown of bright particoloured striped silk or satin, known as the saya suelta, with the train cut in a peculiar fashion unknown in Europe.
The figure of a peasant woman is erect and stately, due to her habit from infancy of carrying jars of water, baskets of orchard produce, etc., on her head with a pad of coiled cloth. The characteristic bearing of both sexes, when walking, consists in swinging the arms (but more often the right arm only) to and fro far more rapidly than the stride, so that it gives them the appearance of paddling.
A “first class” Manila funeral, before the American advent, was a whimsical display of pompous ignorance worth seeing once. There was a hideous bier with rude relics of barbarism in the shape of paltry adornments. A native driver, with a tall “chimney pot” hat, full of salaried mournfulness, drove the white team. The bier was headed by a band of music playing a lively march, and followed by a line of carriages containing the relations and friends of the deceased. The burial was almost invariably within twenty-four hours of the decease—sometimes within six hours.
There is nothing in Manila which instantly impresses one as strikingly national, whether it be in artistic handicraft, music, painting, sculpture, or even diversions. The peculiar traditional customs of an Eastern people—their native dress, their characteristic habits, constitute—by their originality and variation, the only charm to the ordinary European traveller. The Manila middle-class native, in particular, possesses none of this. He is but a vivid contrast to his vivacious Spanish model, a striking departure from his own picturesque aboriginal state, and an unsuccessful imitator of the grace and easy manners of his Western tutor. In short, he is neither one thing nor the other in its true representation compared with the genial, genuine, and natural type to be found in the provinces.