More than a chef’s jacket
“Excellence, then, is not an act but a habit.” At the heart of this enduring thought lies areté—the ancient Greek ideal of excellence achieved through the continual pursuit of one’s fullest potential. It is a fitting name for a business built on the belief that even the most utilitarian garment in a kitchen deserves the same rigor and attention as the dishes it witnesses being created.
I have always believed that hospitality reveals itself in the details we rarely think to notice: the crispness of a freshly starched linen napkin, a beautifully printed menu on premium paper with thoughtfully chosen typography, the precise fit of a uniform that allows someone to move through 12 hours of heat and pressure without once thinking about what they are wearing.
It was this final detail that led me to Areté—pronounced uh-reh-tay—a homegrown culinary apparel brand, and a conversation with its founder Derrick So that made me see the chef’s uniform in an entirely new light.
A uniform born of observation
So’s path to Areté began, as many meaningful ideas do, with observation. A graduate of BS International Hospitality Management, majoring in Culinary Arts from Enderun Colleges, he completed his six-month internship at Maison Doucet in Charolles, France—then a one-star Michelin restaurant that now holds two stars. It was there, working long service hours far from home, that he began noticing the difference between the chef coats he had worn in the Philippines and those he experienced in a French kitchen, where culinary apparel brands such as Bragard have long been fixtures in professional kitchens around the world.
The experience made him question what a culinary uniform could be: not simply a traditional garment but a carefully engineered piece of equipment designed around the needs of the person wearing it.
As So puts it, “There were a lot of little things that could be improved—from the fabric to the fit and overall comfort.”
That observation became the foundation of Areté in 2015: the belief that a culinary uniform is not merely something a chef wears but part of the equipment that allows them to perform.
There’s a fitting symmetry to the story. So’s family has been in the garment manufacturing business since 1960, making Areté a natural extension of that legacy.
Designing for heat, not just for looks
For So, a professional kitchen is a tough environment. Heat radiates from the line, oil inevitably finds its way onto sleeves, and shifts stretch long after the dining room has gone quiet—all of it while dressed in white.
“A well-designed uniform helps you stay comfortable throughout the day and gives you one less thing to worry about,” he says. “When you’re comfortable, you can focus on what really matters—your work, your passion.”
This is where Areté’s philosophy moves beyond aesthetics. So recalls supplying uniforms for a kitchen team in Tagaytay, where the cooler climate required a different approach to breathability compared to a kitchen in the heat of Metro Manila.
“Understanding the work condition is important,” he explains, “because this can make or break the comfort or wearability of the uniform.”
The difference is in what you can’t see
Anyone can create a chef coat that looks good. The difference lies beneath the surface—the fabric composition, the strength of the stitching, and the details that determine whether a garment can withstand the demands of daily service.
But Areté’s fabrics are selected with purpose: durable enough for professional kitchens, breathable enough for the Philippine climate, and comfortable enough to eventually disappear from a chef’s attention.
Even the smallest details are considered. From practical snap buttons to fabric-covered nickel-backed buttons designed to withstand the heat and intensity of a kitchen, every element has a role. The brand also offers repair services, recognizing that a well-made uniform is not disposable—it is a working tool meant to serve over time.
There is one standard So holds himself to that perhaps best reflects his approach: He does not allow a garment to leave the workshop that he would not wear himself. Having stood on a kitchen line, he continues to design with the perspective of someone who understands the realities of the profession, asking of every piece: Would I be comfortable wearing this?
Even the embroidery, crafted using a Tajima machine, adds a refined personal touch—turning a name or brand mark into a signature of identity and pride.
Craft over competition
In an industry filled with ready-made alternatives, Areté has chosen a more deliberate approach. Rather than competing solely on price, the brand focuses on materials, craftsmanship, and meaningful partnerships.
“We invest in better materials, thoughtful designs, consistent craftsmanship, and responsive customer service [for] our clients,” So shares. “Whether it’s a single restaurant or a hospitality group, we treat every project with the same level of care.”
What sets Areté apart, he believes, is not one particular feature, but the way the brand works with its clients.
“I don’t think it’s just one thing,” So says. “I’d say it’s the way we work with our clients. We like to be transparent, we try to understand what they actually need, and we’re happy to share our experience instead of simply pushing a sale. At the end of the day, we’d rather build a long-term relationship than just complete one order.”
That philosophy extends from independent restaurants to larger hospitality groups. Areté approaches each project not simply as creating uniforms, but as creating pieces that support the people who wear them every day.
What So hopes for, in the end, is simple: that a chef puts on an Areté uniform and forgets it is there. No distraction from discomfort, no concern about whether the fabric will hold—only the freedom to focus fully on the work.
And perhaps that is the greatest achievement of good design: to become invisible in service of the task. In a kitchen, where every second and every ounce of attention matters, that quiet reliability becomes its own form of excellence—areté, not merely as a name, but as a practice lived every day.
