Review: Novel’s “English Conditions” Revisits England via Manila

Prince Padilla’s once-amorphous forms find their footing in his collection for the first edition of Fashion Week Asia.

When Prince Padilla moved to the Philippines about three years ago, he hit the ground running. The young designer laid down roots in Manila with the intent of starting a fashion brand, and the goal was almost immediately realized: Novel was first launched in partnership with an independent local boutique, whose space became the first playground in which Padilla constructed his world. There, clients were introduced to Novel’s amorphous hand-draped dresses, swathes of fabric ruched here and there.

In hindsight, those shapeless but promising forms may have been inadvertent reifications of Padilla’s headspace at the time—assured enough yet still somewhat tentative. As he writes in the show notes of “English Conditions,” his latest collection, “I brought England with me to Manila, in the coats I wore despite the heat, the shirts I return to, and the color that fills our everyday. Over time, these things have taken new meanings, shaped by a place so different from the one I grew up in.”

The years ensuing his debut saw his language taking fuller shape. And at present, for the first edition of Fashion WeekFashion WeekA series of seasonal events where designers debut their latest collections, setting the tone for upcoming fashion trends and showcasing creativity, craftsmanship, and innovation across the global fashion industry.Go to Fashion Week Glossary Asia, his collection feels like a more confident projection of his voice. Inspired by coming of age around English subcultures and its subsequent upending upon living in the Philippines, Padilla looks to his upbringing as his muse, and the present as his guiding hand. 

“I’ve always felt that it’s important not to become too attached to a particular language or set of references, and to allow yourself the freedom to move beyond what you already know,” he tells Vogue. “Growth comes from being willing to look elsewhere, to be able to change your mind and to find inspiration in unexpected places and opportunities.”

The show starts. As if rushing to work or scrambling to catch a train, a model stomps down the runway with an urgency that barely gives the audience enough time to absorb the ruffled lilac trims on the opening look’s gray jacket. A slew of models follow in the same frantic pace, one after the other bursting out in a slouched two-tone paisley set, a series of oversized striped cotton button-downs-cum-flapper-dresses, more and more of those ruffled trims. His draped dresses were present as one-offs in cobalt blue and feathered pink, and those coats he first wore in the sweltering heat of Manila make their cameos, too, three of them complete with gun flaps and one translated to a playsuit more fit for the tropics.

It is unclear whether Padilla intended for his collection to feel more Filipino than his title implies. The clothes’ Pinoy accent registers more like an undertone to those who can detect it; I doubt that our Southeast Asian friends in the front rowFront RowThe seats nearest the runway at a fashion show, reserved for editors, celebrities, buyers, and top clients. The front row signals influence and access, and its famous faces and street-styleGo to Front Row Glossary registered the white, appliquéd jersey dress as a daster, nor did they catch that nostalgic feel of the floral lining peeking out of a pink jacket. 

The final looks in stark white consist of a fine paper cut-out dress, and a sweeping men’s coat that can be interpreted as the singular point in which all looks whittle down. The blank canvas, perhaps? Or could it be a caricature of a wide-eyed Padilla, years ago?

Does it even matter? Where the designer goes from here seems like the more exciting thing to ponder on.