The story of these three connected kimonos didn’t come from a distant and past experience but unfolded through an intuitive journey—one that began when I gave myself the freedom to follow my heart. The idea to drive into the Cordillera region, seeking authentic handwoven fabrics, arose from a series of lucky events. It felt as if I was being gently guided by unseen threads toward this moment.

I had just visited my sister in Dubai, and during that time, a younger family member expressed interest in visiting me in the Philippines. On a whim, while still in Dubai, I hastily crafted a plan for us to explore the north together in search of fabrics and to visit Buscalan for a tattoo from the legendary Apo Whang-Od. I decided, almost impulsively, to create a kimono as a tribute to her—using fabrics from her tribe and colors that reflected her legacy.

Even before I returned home, I reached out to a reputable seller to secure the authentic fabrics and beads needed. Once they arrived, the rush began. With only a few days to spare, we worked feverishly to create two kimonos—customizing one specifically for her petite frame. It was an intense, whirlwind project, fueled by excitement and a ticking clock, as my guest had only a short time to spend with us.

Finally, we were ready for our journey north. Driving with exhilaration, we set off on what became a 13-hour first leg through the mountainous Cordillera region. It wasn’t an easy drive, but the breathtaking scenery and quaint little towns made it unforgettable. We explored with curiosity, buying fabrics and trekking into unfamiliar but awe-inspiring terrain.

The day of our meeting with Apo Whang-Od arrived, and I was a mix of nerves and anticipation. Twenty people were ahead of us in line for a tattoo. I clutched her kimono tightly in my bag, wondering how she would react. Would it seem too bold? Too contrived? And then there was the looming reality of the batok tattoo itself—renowned for its intense pain. It would be my first tattoo, and I was both nervous and excited.

When my turn came, I braced for the experience. The pain was sharp but strangely meditative. It gave way to an unexpected calm, as if each strike of the tattooing stick grounded me more deeply. Then, my moment to give back arrived. With a mixture of excitement and uncertainty, I presented Apo Whang-Od with the kimono. Under the watchful eyes of her family and the gathered guests, she inspected it with care and intensity.

Her reaction is etched into my memory—and, in a way, into the very fabric of the kimonos. She stood, slipped it on, and broke into a celebratory dance! I was awestruck, my own tattoo’s stinging pain momentarily forgotten. She beamed with joy, chatting and smiling at us in between tending to her next clients. To my delight, she wore the kimono for two more hours before eventually switching to a winter jacket as the temperature dropped to 15 degrees Celsius. For a 107-year-old woman who had worked over six hours that day, her spirit and resilience left me speechless.

The rest of our time in Buscalan felt like pure magic. We stayed in a house just steps from the spot where Apo Whang-Od creates her tattoos, with a balcony that offered a direct view of her workspace. There was a profound sense of community, of belonging. Her relatives gathered around her, guests sat in quiet anticipation, and the entire scene felt like an unfolding story—a tale alive with connection, tradition, and humanity. It was as if we were children at the feet of a storyteller, absorbing every word, gesture, and moment in reverent awe.