How Ilocanos once dressed.

Imagine walking into an Ilocano village centuries before the Spanish arrived. The air is warm from the sea breeze, and the first thing you notice is the deep blue of indigo-dyed cloth drying in the sun. Woven by hand on simple looms, the fabric carries stripes and patterns that reflect the skill of the weaver.

The men move about in ba-al, a wraparound loincloth knotted at the waist. Some leave their chests bare, their skin marked by tattoos that tell stories of battles and bravery. Warriors and leaders might wear a headcloth, a putong, wrapped neatly around the forehead to show rank and pride. On cooler days or during gatherings, a woven cloak or sash is draped across the shoulder, its colors richer than everyday wear.

The women wear tapis, skirts wrapped around the waist and falling gracefully to the knees or ankles. The fabric is soft cotton, often dyed with the same indigo that stains their fingers from weaving. Some women wear a simple blouse or breast covering, while others, especially from wealthier families, add layered skirts or more finely woven cloth. Necklaces of beads or brass glint in the light, and bangles chime softly as they move.

Both men and women treasure ornaments. Shells from the sea, beads traded from faraway lands, and sometimes even gold are worn as earrings or necklaces. These are more than decoration—they are signs of dignity, wealth, and connection to ancestors.

The clothing is simple, yes, but it is alive with meaning. The stripes on a skirt speak of family skill, the tattoos on a man’s chest declare his courage, the shimmer of a bracelet shows the fruits of trade. Together, these garments and adornments weave a picture of a people rooted in their land, proud of their craft, and aware that dress, like language, tells the world who they are.