Patis Tesoro shows no signs of slowing down in her effort to preserve and promote Filipino design

“Never meet your heroes,” the saying goes, but when it comes to Tesoro, the notion is defied. When she heads downstairs to greet us, she’s silver-haired and short-statured, sweet-faced, and dressed in one of her many floral kimona blouses. While her dogs curl around her feet one at a time, her voice carries the eloquence of someone who has spent decades engaged in passionate discourse about fashion, culture, and craft.

Maria Beatriz Pamintuan Tesoro had always wanted to be an artist. She recalls her days at the now-defunct Marygrove College in Detroit, Michigan, and describes her younger self as a bit of an outlier—something she believes ultimately made her stronger. “Back then,” she recalls, “if you labelled yourself an artist, your parents would tell you that you’d never earn any money.” Determined to pursue a creative path while ensuring financial stability, she set her sights on becoming a couturier.

Her perspective on fashion deepened after marriage. Her late husband’s family owned a chain of souvenir shops, where she first realised fashion’s potential as a tool for preserving heritage. At the same time, she was slowly introduced to sustainable practices and noticed people taking interest—not just the tourists who frequented the shops, but Filipinos as well. 

For decades, she has dedicated herself to preserving Filipino ethnic clothing. One of her most significant contributions was collaborating with former First Lady Ming Ramos to promote the use of piña. The widespread tradition of wearing the barong tagalog at weddings today can, in part, be credited to her efforts.  

At her compound, she mentors local artisans in traditional embroidery techniques, ensuring these skills are passed down to future generations. Now, she is considering launching a series of symposiums where creatives can share their craft and insights, fostering a deeper appreciation for Filipino artistry.

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“I pay a very hard price for all this handiwork,” she admits. “That’s why [my products] are so expensive.” She believes this reflects a broader challenge for the young designers of today. In her view, the younger generation of her profession can thrive if they put effort into community, rather than monopolise their creativity.

She envisions a return to craft and slow, intentional production. “We are going back to the basics. Nowadays, it’s all about technology and efficiency, but people still crave creativity,” she observes. Tesoro believes this shift is partly a survival instinct, driven by climate change and the world’s current socioeconomic challenges. Yet, she remains optimistic, eager to see the next generations embrace tradition once again. 

Lately, Tesoro has found joy in the unexpected—Korean dramas have become a newfound obsession, and she is eagerly anticipating a visit from an old boyfriend from her student days in Detroit. A book and a documentary, both titled Filipiniana is Forever, are set for release in March. Her excitement is tinged with a schoolgirl’s giddiness, a reminder that even icons have their moments of youthful delight.

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