MARGA NOGRALES CREATES MODERN FASHION THAT EMBRACES...
example. “She had a relationship with the Mindanao tribes when no one really cared for them at the time,” Marga describes.
Her mother is an advocate and friend of the 18 Mindanao tribal groups — working with them, volunteering for them, and in her personal capacity, buying their wares to augment their income, resulting in a vast archive of each tribes’ clothing and accessories.
It wasn’t until she was 15 that Marga visited Lake Sebu in South Cotabato for the first time and witnessed the T’Bolis at work as her mother trained them with beading and taught them how to organize themselves.
Marga, now 39, has always been drawn to fashion with a fixer-upper perspective, dreaming up how she can improve people’s outfits during Sunday Mass as a child. Growing up, she championed her hometown’s tribes in her own way. Fresh out of college, Marga worked on special projects with the Department of Tourism office in New York City and organized a
balikbayan event featuring a fashion show highlighting Mindanao designers.
She later found her calling in retail. Sometime in the five years she was buying the womenswear selection of Paul Smith in the Philippines, she pitched the idea of Havaianas adorned with beads and mother of pearl to Philippine distributor Anne Arcenas-Gonzales.
She recalls, “Anne told me, ‘Margs, these are beautiful, but why don’t you try selling slippers first in Davao?’” The pitch was rejected by the Brazilian head honchos, but Marga became the exclusive sub-distributor of the bestselling flip-flops brand in Southeast Mindanao with her friend, Tisha Dominguez, for the past 13 years. Marga says, “Havaianas is a gift to my life.”
It empowered Marga to help more. When her husband Karlo was re-elected into office as the congressman of the first district of Davao in 2016, more tribes approached Marga for help. “I would give from my own wallet only because they’re like family to us. My husband is not the district representative of where they’re from,” she says. “They started coming often, so I said, ‘Wait a minute! Alam mo, maganda suot mo. Gawan mo din ako.’”
Looking back, Marga can’t help but laugh at how she teased her mom in her teens. “I would say, ‘Uy, meron na namang may
bagong jacket.’” Kaayo Modern Mindanao got its start from Marga wearing the same traditional T’boli jackets, only with jeans. The demand came from Marga’s circle, as her friends’ inquiries turned into orders and grew, that a business model was needed. “I am a retailer at heart. It’s what I’ve been doing my whole life — tindera, taga-bilang ng inventory, forever costing,” she says with a smile. “But more than a business, it is really just here because I wanted to help.”
Kaayo works with the Bagobo-Tagabawa tribe of Davao, recognizable for their striking color combinations and natural dyeing techniques; the popular T’boli of South Cotabato, known for their intricate yet sturdy embroidery and beading; and just recently for an upcoming collection, the Mandaya of Davao. (“They’re the most expensive,” Marga notes). An upcoming collection that’s got the T’boli excited is a collaboration using abel Iloko. The Bagobos are also known for their dream weavers, those whose designs are inspired by their dreams. Their princess, Bae Arlyne Salazar, is a close friend of Marga’s mom. “Many designers have come to her but she’s namimili lang.” She is also Marga’s point person. “It’s important to have a good relationship with the tribes because they have their culture and you have to respect that. If they get tampo, they call me directly. It’s between us. I also make tampo sometimes but I value our relationship.”
Bae Arlyne inspired the coveted Tangkulo scarf. “It’s from a headpiece used by the datu of the tribe, only for the datu of the tribe. She showed it to me as a headpiece and I asked, ‘Can we make it a little smaller, and put the accents this way? Can we use it as a scarf?’ She goes, ‘Ay, o, pwede, pero scarf lang. For the neck, not for bikinis.’ It can also be used as an accent for bags.” Her woven tote has one on its strap in orange.
Kaayo Modern Mindanao officially opened its first pop-up in 2017 at the Congressional Spouses Bazaar carrying its first product, the traditional T’boli jackets that Marga bought wholesale. She admits, “In the beginning, the tribes did everything, but they cannot sew so well and the tela they used was not so nice. If you give them your own tela,
hindi mo alam if makita mo pa yung tela. Ganon. Very challenging. Sometimes you pay them this, tapos,
‘Bakit eto lang yung dumating?’ But wala, at least nakatulong. Ganon talaga siya.” She also attempts to solve another problem: “The tradition was dying. The children did not want to weave or bead anymore because they want a ‘better’ future, but we tell them, ‘Don’t let your culture die. We’ll make it fabulous.’ They have to know they’re fabulous. Their tita, lola, or mommy tell them, ‘Wag mo pakawalan to. Atin ito.’ Now, slowly, everyone’s interested.”
In Bisaya, kaayo is also used as an intensifier, just like Marga’s edit of the merchandise, done with respect and without appropriation to highlight the qualities that make it beautiful. She clarifies she is no fashion designer but she knew how to make the pieces marketable. She sources fabrics herself, presents pegs, and has a trusted seamstress who cuts the pattern.
Here, she still tries to help those in need; the fabric used for T’boli-embellished dresses and tops in the latest collection came from a closing uniform shop owner’s unsold fabrics. Marga bought them all. She wears a sleeveless version to this interview. “I give the tribes all costs: allowance, food. After nila gawin,
ibenta nila sa akin na may markup. Business nila talaga ito; ako ang wholesaler. Their capital is their hard work,” Marga points out.
As the fashion movement shifts to slow fashion, to heritage, to sustainability, to the unique and the artisanal, Kaayo continues to live by its name.
“If you notice, my pieces aren’t as expensive as the others. My style is the embroideries and details are not so intricate, because it’s faster to make. When it’s faster to make, the tribes get the cash faster. They would rather that. I don’t want to sell it too expensively because I want the pieces to move faster and the business to be sustainable. In the Philippines, people don’t pay P20,000 for a jacket, but in New York, they will. I want to grow the Philippine market first before we go out. We have to love it first before we see it anywhere else,” she says. “We’ve been invited to Paris; we get international orders but we’re not rushing.”
Their Instagram @kaayo.ph is their only marketing platform as well as online store. A showroom in Quezon City is opening soon, but until then, you have to catch them at pop-ups like Katutubo Pop-Up Market and the upcoming ArteFino in Rockwell. The SM Store’s Kultura carries a line of embroidered polo shirts. E-commerce sites have tried to consign them, but their current high-commission, fast-fashion model is at odds with Kaayo’s values. “They always tell me, ‘Ma’am, paano na pag walang
bibili ng jacket?’” Marga assures her partner tribes, “‘If the jackets don’t sell, we’ll make something else.’ I always tell them, ‘Forever na ‘to.’” And it’s only been a really good year.
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