Fresh Face: Jilliane Santos and Paulina Dayrit of Palengke
The Knaur Cube heel, Kalachuchi Island Resort collection and FASHIONPhilippines in Milan 2026
F&M’s Fresh Face is a series featuring young Southeast Asian fashion practitioners, where we speak with them about how they embarked on their careers and what propels them as creatives.
Jilliane Santos and Paulina Dayrit. Image courtesy of Palengke.
Jilliane Santos and Paulina Dayrit are the founders of Palengke, a Filipino fashion label named after the local wet market. They playfully channel the din and colour of the market into keepsakes drawn from food, childhood memory and the ordinary objects of Filipino life. Since launching in 2021, their work has spanned clothing, footwear, bags, accessories and scent. They have made heels after bouillon cubes, bags after the balikbayan box that overseas Filipinos pack for family back home, pants after string beans and incense after the smells of a Filipino kitchen. These are all crafted with artisans across the country — in Marikina, Romblon, Abra and Pampanga. Earlier this year, they launched the Kalachuchi Island Resort collection which takes its inspiration from the odd treasures pocketed from a beach resort after a quintessential Filipino holiday.
This September, Palengke is one of the 14 Filipino labels showing at FASHIONPhilippines in Milan 2026, with an exhibition at Fondazione Sozzani alongside Milan Fashion Week 2026. In this interview, we speak with Jilliane and Paulina about the memories that precede their creations, working with artisans across the country and the value of making things at their own pace.
Hi, Jilliane and Paulina! To start, could you both talk about your backgrounds? What or who are the main influences your work draws upon?
Jilliane: I studied fashion, but I think my biggest influences have come from outside of it. I find myself looking beyond fashion when I am searching for inspiration.
Lately, I have been especially drawn to movies and television. It has been such an exciting year for film and TV, and I have found myself watching more than I normally do. I love seeing how stories are told through different mediums, and that naturally influences the way I think about storytelling.
One funny thing Paulina and I realised is that we have both been leaving cartoons on in the background while we work. It was not intentional, but that sense of play found its way into Palengke. There is a humour, curiosity and kulit, or playfulness, to it that reminds us not to take ourselves too seriously.
Paulina: Aside from co-creative directing with Jill, I oversee everything that falls under art directing — from shoots, visuals, graphics, to socials — so the brand’s visual identity reflects my background as a graphic designer. The visual world of Palengke is very graphics-heavy, with a lot of post-processing involved, even incorporating made-up edited elements and visual treatments that do not exist in real life. A lot of our campaigns are make-believe and rooted in storytelling.
I take inspiration from my everyday environment, especially when I step outside. I am constantly observing colors, typography, shapes, textures and forms, whether it is from hand-painted shop signages, typography on vehicles, old appliance colors, printed material like packaging, street and architectural details, or even forms in nature. All of this feeds into Palengke’s art style. It is why the visuals feel familiar but a little offbeat. It is pulled from the real world, then filtered through our own playful lens.
Pukpuk workshop in Pampanga, a near-forgotten metalworking tradition marked by repeated hand-hammering techniques used to shape brass into functional, ornamental pieces. Image courtesy of Palengke.
Could you describe the initial process of creating your brand, Palengke? What was the story behind it, and where did the name come from?
Paulina: Palengke is Filipino for “local public market”, a vibrant, busy place of people, local goods and everyday life. Drawing from this spirit, we celebrate the humour, curiosities and cultural values we encounter in our everyday lives as Filipinos. Some of our earliest releases were inspired by things as familiar as sitaw, or string beans, which became our Sitaw Pants, and bouillon cubes, which inspired our Knaur Cube Heels.
We have been childhood friends for as long as we can remember, and we have always bonded over a shared desire to build something creative together. Palengke started during the pandemic, when we were young students with no formal background in fashion or business, but a strong urge to express and execute our ideas. We had to teach ourselves almost everything, using whatever information and resources we could find.
We started planning in early 2020, but did not launch until right before the end of 2021. It took us almost two years to release our first product. Being in lockdown made everything more challenging. Finding suppliers, talking to makers, developing samples and figuring out logistics all had to be done remotely. Over time, we realised that we thrive when working with what we already have.
At its core, Palengke started and continues to be a curious experiment. We wanted to make the things we wanted to see exist in the world. We had a lot to learn, but we were curious enough to figure things out along the way.
Shoe-making workshop in Marikina. Images courtesy of Palengke.
A big part of your work involves collaborating with local artisans across the Philippines. Could you share how those partnerships came about and what they mean to you?
Jilliane: We do not have one central workshop. Every collection brings us to different artisans depending on the craft, so our process happens through visits, phone calls, messages and constant coordination.
It is not the easiest way to work, but I do not think we would want it any other way. Working this way means every artisan becomes part of the creative process rather than just executing an idea.
Paulina and I might come in with the initial concept, but they are the experts in their craft. They know what is possible, what needs to be adjusted and how to translate an idea into something that can be made. A lot of the best decisions happen through those conversations.
That is what those partnerships mean to us. Seeing different techniques and different makers from across the country come together into one collection is one of the most fulfilling parts of what we do. Palengke is not just a reflection of our ideas; it is also a reflection of the people whose knowledge and craftsmanship make those ideas possible.
The Dekwat Slipper from the Kalachuchi Island Resort collection, 2026. Photo by Dani Pojas. Image courtesy of Palengke.
The Tinik Comb from the Kalachuchi Island Resort collection, 2026. Photo by Marko Bonifacio. Image courtesy of Palengke.
Let us talk about your latest collection, Kalachuchi Island Resort. How did you come up with the initial idea? Are there any specific elements that you would want people to pay attention to, and why?
Jilliane: The collection came from looking back on childhood family trips. Growing up, my family would always go on spontaneous road trips. We wanted to revisit those memories through adult lenses and reinterpret them through craft.
Every design begins with the ordinary. The Dekwat Slipper, for example, came from the habit of taking home hotel slippers after a trip. The Tinik Comb was inspired by playing mermaids as kids and remembering Ariel using everyday objects she found under the sea as treasures. The thread that ties the collection together is a memory before an object.
Paulina: The whole theme of Kalachuchi Island Resort is inspired by hotel and resort souvenirs. I think the idea of “souvenirs” came from something Jill and I have always found funny about going on trips. Whenever we would stay somewhere on vacation, we would end up bringing home the little things that were free — ballpens, slippers, toiletries, anything we could use. It is a small, silly habit, but it is familiar to us Filipinos.
Instead of thinking about souvenirs as the things to buy to remember a trip, we thought about the things we collect along the way.
Knaur Cube Heels, 2025. Images courtesy of Palengke.
Food, kitchens and the everyday Filipino pantry seem to run through much of your work, from the Knaur Cube heels shaped after a humble bouillon cube to Lutu-lutuan and its childhood play kitchens. Where does this fascination come from, and what draws you to these references?
Jilliane: In the Philippines, food is more than just sustenance. It is how we bond. Growing up in Pampanga, that became even more pronounced because food is a big part of Kapampangan culture. People genuinely love to cook, feed others and gather over a meal. Cooking was actually one of my first loves. I took cooking lessons when I was quite young, partly because I grew up watching shows like MasterChef and MasterChef Junior. That interest eventually found its way into how we design.
Paulina: These themes have a more personal meaning for Jill and me. We had this fascination with food and making things around it.
One memory that really stuck with me was when I was playing pretend-cooking outside as a kid. I was crushing grass and dried plants into little clay pots, or kurang-kurangan, and pretending to cook with them. One day, my mom came home with dry ice and played along with me. When she put it into my little cooking pot, it looked like real smoke was coming out of it, and I was so fascinated by it. The Lutu-Lutuan Incense Set is almost a parallel to that memory. We took something from that very imaginative, childlike world of pretend-cooking and turned it into something real that we can interact with as adults.
Lutu-lutuan, 2026. Photo by Dani Pojas. Image courtesy of Palengke.
Lutu-lutuan, 2026. Image courtesy of Palengke.
Is there an everyday Filipino object you have always wanted to turn into a piece but have not yet? What is it, and why?
Jilliane: One object I have wanted to explore is the bunot, the coconut husk that is traditionally used to wax and polish wooden floors. The coconut itself is such an iconic part of the Philippines, and the bunot is a great example of how resourceful Filipinos have always been.
Pusod Set from the Kalachuchi Island Resort collection, 2026. Photo by Dani Pojas. Image courtesy of Palengke.
As young emerging Southeast Asian designers, what are some of the key challenges you face, and equally, the opportunities that you seek?
Jilliane: The world has become incredibly connected. We are surrounded by products, materials and ideas from all over the world, and they are often just as accessible — sometimes even more accessible — than things made locally. At the same time, everything moves so quickly, so there is an expectation to move quickly too.
Our process has always been a little different. Because we work with artisans and different crafts, our collections take time to develop. As people have more choices than ever, they become more curious about craftsmanship, where something comes from and the story behind it. For us, that is a reminder to keep doing the work.
Paulina: One of our biggest challenges, but also one of our greatest assets, is working in small quantities. Our pieces are made by hand, so production takes more time. We cannot produce at the scale or speed that people are used to. Our process depends on skilled makers, small-batch production and the time and intention that goes into each piece.
We see an opportunity in that. Working in smaller quantities allows us to be more experimental and hands-on with what we make. It also lets us work closely with our makers, build on existing skills and experiment with techniques within these crafts. We want to contribute to a culture where Philippine craftsmanship, its heritage, and the people who practice it are valued.
What are your hopes for the Philippine fashion and design scene?
Jilliane: The Philippine creative scene is flourishing more than ever. I hope we continue investing in the people behind the work. Our artisans and craftspeople are such an important part of our creative community, and supporting them is just as important as celebrating the final product.
Paulina: I hope we continue to place more value on Philippine craft — not just for how it looks, but for the skill, time, and generations of knowledge behind it. I hope local craft can be valued for what it truly is, rather than being expected to be cheaper simply because it is made here.
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