Clothing and Selfhood
with JC Manalo 






JC, I love you, and I love your approach to dressing– I will not even say dressing UP because the word ‘dressing’ feels more settled in which I feel best suits this conversation.

When we sit down together, clothes naturally make way in our conversations. We gush over pieces, purchases, desires, growing up. Being envy of this, dreaming of that, etc. etc. So I know for a fact that clothing plays a big role in who we are. It does not define us, or maybe it does in some capacity, but it’s almost like an armor, don’t you think? It’s a cheesy metaphor, but in the game of life, you can acquire pieces, upgrade them, and it makes up your character.

I want to talk to you about clothing and selfhood. I know you’ve gone through growing pains again and again, and it does feel like you landed as someone who is beautiful and imperfect and is accepting of that. And your acceptance of it shows through the ways you express and restrain yourself in clothing, specifically.

Tell me more about this, please. Does this statement sit well with you? Please contest any assumptions I make.






Style has been an extension of myself, and my way of expressing myself to the world. Growing up, I was very experimental in my dressing before I finally found my personal style. I remember the first time I wore something that felt more like myself; while also feeling like someone I was aspiring to be– I wore a plain White tee, Black fitted trousers, Black velvet slippers, and my first pair of Céline tortoiseshell sunglasses, and I vividly remember walking around university and feeling unstoppable. 








Can you take me through what values you hold dear when it comes to dressing?






In the current era where it is so easy to purchase anything, I try to be more mindful and give myself a little bit of time before I actually buy anything. I sleep on them first. Something I wanted may be something just for a brief fixation, but not for long. No matter what season of my life is at, I try to keep my approach the same. To wear and rewear, to acquire only what I can use repeatedly and can pair well with what I already have.  

What I have observed from the past year is me prioritizing comfort way much more. I mostly go for linen and cotton pieces for daily wear and I had to look for footwear that can last my feet the whole day, since Singapore involves a lot of walking. I must admit that shopping became my stress outlet at some point, and a part of me felt hypocritical for someone who tries to be a ‘minimalist’ but looking back, it was an unexpectedly rough journey and I respected that season of adjustment. Thankfully, most of them are purchases I do not regret! 


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How has clothing helped you in navigating big life changes?







Throughout my whole career in Manila, I was mostly wearing White, if not every day. There was a time I was in a new workplace and the Japanese consultants didn’t know my name, but referred to me as the ‘guy wearing White.’ It became my uniform and used style as my armor and identity; I was then the youngest in the whole site project, and had to face people 10 or 20 years ahead of me during meetings. I had to feel confident, and look confident so I used to make more effort in looking more put together then, wearing high-waisted pants and shoes that clunked on the office floor.

When I moved to Singapore, I was thinking of just being my usual self; carefree and laidback– but being in a new  workplace in a new country, I found myself pulling back my style to wear a different armour. I camouflaged so I wouldn’t be noticed. I was surviving, but it definitely did not feel right. It took more than a year, but I am happy to say that I am slowly circling back to myself.    






Can you share three articles of clothing and what they mean for you?







This sounds repetitive but I would start with a crisp, White button-down. My mom rarely buys clothes for me because she knows I am very specific, but she randomly gifted me a button-down polo and it is one of my favorites. Wearing one also reminds me of her because she used to have my pieces washed with Almirol so they come out very crisp when ironed.

Second is my Black jacket from Karl Lagerfeld’s Chanel cruise 2002 collection. It was one of my first big-boy purchases with my own money, and my high school best friend Sara brought it from the US for me. I had a Chanel-obsessed phase back then and I would research so much on the house’s history, so finally having it felt like a big win for me.   

Third piece would be my mom’s beige jacket that I stole from her closet. It is a cropped jacket with slightly puffed sleeves, detachable hood and a funnel neck. It has traveled so much with me, I can dress it up and down, fits really well, and somehow, I always get asked where I got it from. I would say it’s the best jacket I own!


















































What if clothes were not simply reflective of personality, indicative of our banal preferences for grey over green, but more deeply imprinted with the ways that human beings have lived: a material record of our experiences and an expression of our ambition?
What do clothes say? by Shahidha Bari - Aeon Mag








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