The re-education of Gabbie Sarenas
The way Gabbie Sarenas sees it, her brain operates at two speeds: It’s going at either an unrelentingly fast clip or a painstakingly slow pace. “There’s never an in-between.”
And for a good part of the past couple of years, her brain felt resolutely set to “static.” “I had been trying to look for inspiration but wala talaga—nothing,” she recalls. “I couldn’t pull out anything; I honestly thought my brain had turned into mush.”
It was a scary place to be for the 35-year-old.
As a designer and a business owner, Sarenas has always been purposeful when producing anything. From putting together her first collection and establishing her eponymous label in 2016 to keeping it running during a pandemic, everything she does begins with intensive research, culling details and inspiration from history and looking at her work as part of a larger narrative. “I always ask myself, ‘What’s the problem I’m trying to solve? What’s the void I plan to fill?’” Describing her process as akin to preparing for a thesis defense, Sarenas always makes sure that each collection she releases can withstand scrutiny.
No wonder that not being in the right mindset to even get anything started was terrifying.
She eventually realized that she needed to follow her brain’s cues and intentionally stop to take stock of where she was. “I was trying to avoid having to listen to what my brain and my body were telling me—and to accept that. To acknowledge that I’ve been running myself ragged,” Sarenas now reflects.
“It got to a point where I finally wondered why I kept looking for ideas elsewhere when I could’ve been looking at what’s in front of me.” A change in pace and perspective turned out to be the key, and the lack of inspiration became the inspiration for her latest collection Off the Record.
A 12-piece collection that was presented in December at Finale Art File, Off the Record serves as the designer’s “breakup letter” to her younger self: “[A] mourning [of] the loss of [her] best version...who has gotten her far in this journey...[with a] hope that she will eventually regain her former self, [even though] the void keeps getting bigger the more she exhausts what remains of her,” the collection’s notes read. Sarenas was initially wary about the write-up revealing the depth of her vulnerability, but her Off the Record show director Melvin Mojica’s encouragement convinced her to go with it. “I’m coming to terms with who I am and learning how to have my emotional side be friends with my logical side,” she admits.
“Sarenas admits that the first two years of the pandemic were tough in terms of accepting and adjusting to the changes she’s been through and the nebulous in-between space she has since been in. ”
In keeping with the collection’s honesty, Off the Record’s presentation also veered from the usual fashion show format. Instead of a parade of fully styled models, Sarenas would alternately approach her two all-black-clad models (one of whom was her friend Jo Ann Bitagcol), to drape and arrange an item from the collection on them: an apron, a vest, a waist belt. Nostalgic ballads played in the background, their swelling melodies reminiscent of ‘80s Easy Sunday playlists older folks tend to listen to. The staging, the pace, and the hushed sense of watching an artist be in her natural element seemed to demonstrate to the audience that as finished as the collection already was, an evolution was still taking place. The show concluded with Sarenas taking a bow, Earth, Wind & Fire singing “I can’t escape the thought of all that might have been/ every now and then” in the background—an encapsulation of her longing-filled farewell to her former self.
That space between what was and what’s yet to come can feel uncomfortable—if not painful—to anyone who has built then lost some semblance of security and stability in their life. Sarenas admits that the first two years of the pandemic were tough in terms of accepting and adjusting to the changes she’s been through and the nebulous in-between space she has since been in. She had to make the conscious decision to learn more about herself and how her brain works, relying on cognitive behavioral therapy and reading about how Buddhist monks live to cope. She reveals, “I told my therapist that [Off the Record] is like the culminating activity [of the past two years], and she replied that I'm not bleeding anymore. I’m no longer in the emergency room; I’m now in the acceptance stage.
“Everything [in the collection] was in pieces because my brain was in pieces,” she continues. “When put together, they looked fine; it made sense. But they're not puzzle pieces meant to fit together. A lot of their grooves match, but there are still cracks and spaces in between.”
That view can also be applied to Sarenas’ approach to her design career. As intentional as she is with her work, she still gets slightly sheepish at the acknowledgment of how she has carved her place in the industry. “I'm flattered when people say that; I still can’t believe it, honestly. It’s something I didn’t really expect at 16.” Back then, she’d imagined herself being the total Corporate Girl, immersed in the full fantasy of “a life spent wearing blazers and heels from 9 to 5, having a corporate email address and insurance. And an office pantry.”
Instead, she’s running a business built on her vision of preserving and innovating generational Filipino methods. Gabbie Sarenas, the label, is frequently described as “a love letter to the Philippines.” From delicate embroidery to the layered volume play that can be created from indigenous textiles, the brand strives to make local artisanship relevant to and resonant with contemporary times. Its pace as a business also fits the purposeful nature of Sarenas’ work, with only one collection released per year. It’s a reasonable output for the amount of prep she does. “I put everything I could in them in one go because each one must cover all the bases: What’s its use? What’s the historical data and inspiration behind it?’ Though I enjoy it, it’s a lot of work for one person.”
But while she has found a groove that both fulfills her sense of purpose and keeps her small enterprise operating, Sarenas is hyper-aware of the cracks and gaps in her path—and joining the recently concluded Ternocon 3 had only highlighted them.
As per her style, Sarenas had immersed herself in terno-making to prepare for the competition, enrolling at F.A.B. Creatives Manila in August to be taught by no less than Jojie Lloren. “I had to start from scratch.” She laughs a little before adding, “I tend to break a lot of rules when making clothes because I really don’t like [offering] the basics. But Sir Jojie taught me that I have to learn the rules first before I could bend them, and I’m beginning to practice that approach to everything.”
Not a lot of established designers would risk their resources and reputation to join (and potentially lose) a competition, but Sarenas highly recommends it. Although she had to balance Ternocon 3’s schedule with working on Off the Record—as well as getting sidelined by COVID in October—participating presented her with an opportunity to expand her knowledge.
That math, specifically geometry, has never been her strongest suit made learning terno pattern-making extra daunting, but after months of classes (and through persistent practice), she’s become adept at it. “It’s not that I've learned everything through Ternocon, but joining it revealed what I needed to learn—and it revealed my desire to build my technical knowledge further.” The cherry on top was her placing second in the competition, winning the Pura Escurdia Award with her highly versatile piña and piña silk pieces that feature flat embroidery and 3D stripes and florettes.
Another gap she’s keen to fill is learning how to keep her business sustainable, with her team of eight depending on it for their livelihood. It’s the only regret Sarenas has in never experiencing corporate life. “I could’ve applied anything I would’ve learned to my business. How do you plan your growth as a CEO? How do you get investors? It’d be nice to get some basic knowledge.”
Yet as much as these details and the long-term view can get her bogged in anxiety, Sarenas is mindful of reining in her thoughts lest she burns herself out again with worry. Remembering her creative purpose also helps her take a necessary pause to figure out her next steps. “I want to create something bigger than I am. Even then, I always have to remember the ‘why,’ and I can find that in the past. It’s a delicate balance of looking at what has been and what’s next.”
What’s definitely next is this month’s Off the Record-based pop-up at Guava Sketches. It’ll have the black versions of each piece made in piña cotton while those with prints would come in vintage fabrics from Sarenas’ personal collection. They’ll also feature some of the buttons she has collected during her travels.
2022 shot from zero to 100 for Sarenas, who had emerged from immense burnout to find herself managing, once again, an overflowing plate. But instead of maintaining this warped speed, she’s now more conscious about checking in with herself and respecting where she’s at, including the uncertainty.
“I’m a different person from who I was. I’ve learned that I must acknowledge what’s happening to me, get to know it, be friends with it—then dance with it. ”
“I’m not saying I’m now dancing with [the way my brain works] but I acknowledge that it’s different now; I'm a different person from who I was. I’ve learned that I must acknowledge what’s happening to me, get to know it, be friends with it—then dance with it. I’m still in the first phase; building my legacy is a long-term project I’m not yet prepared to start. I’m just focusing on what’s in front of me.” Plenty of cracks and gaps still lay ahead, but Sarenas trusts that her vision, her purpose, her psyche—her brain, in short—would keep her on track as it always has. “On the taste or aesthetic level, I know where I’m going.”
Photographed Colin Dancel. Makeup by Pam Robes. This story was published in February 2022 on the Northern and Southern Living website.