Stop Pitting Filipinas Against Each Other at Fashion Week

Ingrid wasn’t alone for long. Over time, more Filipinos began making space for themselves on the international stage—no longer content to sit quietly on the sidelines. One of the earliest digital trailblazers was British-Filipina model and creative Kim Jones, who launched her fashion blog Miss Jones during the heyday of Blogspot. Long before “content creator” became a buzzword, Kim was already experimenting with photography, styling, writing, and digital storytelling—skills that would eventually lead to collaborations with luxury powerhouses like Louis Vuitton, Gucci, and Bottega Veneta.

The journey hasn’t always been affirming. Once in a while, there would even be pressure to water down her identity. “Someone—well-meaning, I’m sure—once advised me to say I was from Asia rather than specifically the Philippines. I knew the judgments existed, as they always have, and it reflected something much larger... I ignored them.”

For years, being invited to shows—let alone sitting front row—meant jumping through hoops. According to longtime fashion editor and stylist Kat Cruz, even landing a single confirmed invite meant sending out endless requests and proving one's worth through impressive social media metrics and a track record of collaborations with global brands. “Sometimes, even that wasn’t enough,” she explains. "You might send out 10 requests for shows and end up with just one confirmed seat for the season."

These early efforts laid the groundwork for a larger cultural shift. Ingrid Chua, Kim Jones, Liz Uy, and a handful of others may have entered the room quietly, but their presence was a signal that Filipino creatives belonged in the conversation. As more Filipinos continued to push forward in carving out their place in an industry that's historically resistant to outsiders, the tide began to turn. 

Already a beloved artista with an established fan base, Heart brought global fashion into mainstream Filipino consciousness. Her presence at couture shows, backstage with designers, and inside brand dinners brought visibility to an arena that once felt worlds away. She sat front row at the likes of Schiaparelli, Louis Vuitton, Fendi, and Giambattista Valli, and was profiled repeatedly by international publications. Heart made style feel aspirational yet accessible to a new generation of Filipinos.

Heart's presence marked a step toward democratization. Fashion week was no longer reserved for editors, buyers, and select insiders—it began to feel less exclusive, more within reach. For Filipinos watching from afar, it suddenly felt relatable. And one by one, more names followed. 

Then came Pia Wurtzbach.

Once known for her Miss Universe crown, Pia has since established herself as a commanding force in luxury fashion. From editorial covers and designer partnerships to her global ambassadorship with Bvlgari, she’s earned her place in an industry that rarely makes room for Southeast Asian voices—and she’s done it on her own terms. 

Individually, they embody what it means for a Filipina to claim her place in the global fashion conversation.

“What we’re seeing now is the result of years of effort from countless Filipino designers, stylists, photographers, interns, writers, seamstresses, creatives—people who pushed forward when nobody was watching,” Kim Jones emphasizes to Preview. “The Philippines may not have been seen as a dominant fashion market, but the influence now is undeniable.”

She adds, "Collaboration is beautiful, and community is deeply ingrained in our culture, but that doesn't mean we all have to move in unison. The women in this space deserve to be celebrated for their individual impact, not just as part of a larger movement. People will always dissect success, trying to define it, reverse engineer it. But what we really need is contrast—multiple perspectives, individual voices, even if they don't always align. That friction, that nuance—creativity thrives on it."

Yet too often, that nuance often gets lost in the noise, especially in how fashion week is publicly framed. Heart and Pia’s appearances, for example, are frequently reduced to a rivalry. It turns into a game of comparisons that distract from what truly matters.

Amid all the drama, if you find yourself wondering who is dressed better, who racks up more invites, or who pulls in higher media impact value, then you're asking all the wrong questions. The fashion world is big enough for equally amazing Filipinas to thrive—what we should be doing instead is clamoring for more seats at the table. 

Fashion week is not a competition. But if it must be framed that way—measured in follower counts, press coverage, or best-dressed rankings—then let’s at least be clear of one thing: This isn't a contest between fellow Filipinas. The real battle has always been carving space in an industry that wasn’t designed with us in mind. Every Filipina who shows up—dressed, deserving, and fully present—chips away at old structures that once excluded us. The goal isn’t to outshine one another; it's to amplify our collective presence until we’re no longer seen as exceptions, but as a permanent part of the global conversation.