I’ve had my late mother’s piña-silk dress hanging, covered, in my closet for more than 25 years. I wish I could ask her more details about it.

My mother was born and raised in Manila, Philippines, into a large family, including seven sisters. She played the piano from a young age and had been a concert pianist into her 20s. Whenever she needed a gown for a performance, her mom and sisters would oblige.

They would draw the pattern out on newspaper, then sew the dress on the family sewing machine. Looking through family photos from the 1940s, ’50s, and ’60s, I see many dresses that I’m sure are piña-silk, which remains the standard formal fabric of the Philippines.

After my mom married my dad and moved to the United States in the late 1960s, her family continued to make formal dresses for her.  As my mother was only about 5 feet tall, with strong shoulders, I can appreciate how she would be spoiled by having custom-made dresses.

The piña-silk fabric of this dress would have been purchased pre-embroidered and packaged with, or sold alongside, the cotton lining fabric so the color matched.

The dress isn’t my style, but I’m now looking at it in a new light. It may remain as is, but it may also see a new life remodeled—for me or one of my daughters—as a nod to our Filipina heritage.