Dentsu Advertising Museum

November 21st, 2003 by Anna

Kimono lovers, be sure to visit the Dentsu Advertising Museum, which covers the Edo, Meiji and Taisho eras. The Edo exhibit has a section dedicated to kimono, while the Meiji and Meiji to Taisho exhibits have several advertisements with women dressed in kimono of the day.

An excerpt from the Edo exhibit that I found interesting:

People in the Edo period wore kimono (the category of goods was called gofuku). The majority of townspeople wore kimono purchased at second-hand kimono shops. This was partly because fabrics were expensive at that time, but it was also the manifestation of a characteristic Edo philosophy of recycling resources to the greatest extent possible.

While most townspeople relied on second-hand kimono, there were people affluent enough to afford new kimono. New garments were sold by large stores, such as Echigo-ya, Shiroki-ya, Daimaru and Matsuzaka-ya, all of which later became well-known department stores.

What a change from the modern philosophy of “if it’s a year old, it’s obsolete”! (Although second-hand kimono are making a comeback in Japan currently, the fad seems to focus on those from the Taisho and early Showa eras.)

My favorites can be found in the Meiji to Taisho exhibit:
Enjoying nighttime illuminations
Bundled in kimono
Young woman sitting
I especially like the lady’s han eri in the third link, and the art nouveau style, which is so very Taisho. Last but not least:
Young mother and daughter
A Western hairstyle combined with Taisho iki!

Kimono in Torino

November 12th, 2003 by Anna

This is actually the third time I’ve posted about this event, so I feel like I’m repeating myself! (The post Trip to Torino on my weblog describes other aspects of it.) This post will be devoted to analyzing my kitsuke. I find that by going through it in writing helps bring things to light that I otherwise wouldn’t see, and having the possibility of public feedback means that others can point out whatever I’ve missed, and I feel motivated to do better next time.

This photo shows Neeta and I in kimono (I’m on the left). The most obvious thing for me is that my obi is a little too low and the front has some folds that shouldn’t be there. The folds are caused by my kohlin belt: I tried several times to get rid of them by pulling on my ohashori, but nothing helped. I was wondering what to do about this, since I don’t particularly like having to “cheat” with a kohlin belt, as helpful as it is. However, the only other way I know how to hold the collar together is with a koshihimo, and when your kimono is made of slippery satin-finished silk, the koshihimo only holds the outer collar and not the inner. Then I re-discovered this page, which gives a key clue not in any of my kitsuke books!
o Wearing a komon (Japanese)

This photo in particular shows the koshihimo being threaded through the armhole, just as would be done with a kohlin belt. Genius! It would hold the collar beneath, and thread around to also hold the front collar! There are also directions for wearing a houmongi that show the use of a kohlin belt (with attached datejime, it seems). I think another problem with my kohlin belt may have been that it’s adjusted too tightly – if I loosened it, fewer folds would appear from the pulling.

Good points: my collars look ok, though I think the juban collar could be set at a wider angle and higher up on my neck, and fixing my kohlin belt (or trying out the other koshihimo technique) would help set my kimono collar at a narrower angle, showing more han eri at the “point”. The ohashori looks good, I managed to sew up my juban sleeves so they’re just the right length, and the hem line is quite all right. I’m very happy that I managed to tie my obiage just right for the second time in a row!

Now for the otaiko musubi. I was very pleased with it:
o Double-fold otaiko musubi
Though you can’t see the tare, it’s the right length. I should have asked Alain to photograph me from the side too, to get a good look at the te and collar line. In any case, it looks nice – and I did it from memory, without a mirror! *happyjoy* The back of the kimono is wrinkle-free, which is a major success, the first time I’ve managed a “clean” back with such a satiny kimono. The photo was taken after walking around for nearly two hours, yet my han eri doesn’t show in the back, and the nape line is good! It’s a nice feeling to have succeeded in all these things that I’ve been working on for so long.

Which reminds me to say that kimono are comfortable! Two hours walking around but nothing shifted and it was quite cozy. I want to wear kimono much more often now!

In summary, kitsuke points to remember for next time:
o tie the obi higher
o use a koshihimo for the kimono collar or set the kohlin belt looser (I think I’ll try a koshihimo just to see if it works)
o keep paying attention to wrinkles

Regarding my otaiko musubi, I used a trick that I can’t remember if I figured out myself or if someone else posted a message about it… Rather than tying the musubime in the back, I did the following:
o wrapped the obi twice as if to tie the musubime in back, setting aside the right length tesaki
o clipped the front center of my obi with a clothespin
o carefully turned the obi so that the clothespin was at my center back, with tesaki and taresaki in front
o tied the musubime in front

That way I was able to see the musubime and angle the taresaki made at center back, plus check that the folds were well-done. The clothespin does two things: reminds you where the center front is (very important!) and holds the obi at the right tension while you’re tying the musubime. It worked really well: my arms weren’t tired from tying it in the back, and the taresaki angle was very clean. After that, I just moved the whole thing around again, clothespin to front center, and tied the musubi proper. VoilĂ !

Trying on various kimono

November 1st, 2003 by Anna

Lots of photos today! I had enough time last night and this morning to try on the woven kimono I received in the mail yesterday, as well as another go at my hikifurisode, this time with the obi I bought especially for it.

. . . .
The omeshi tatewaku kimono worn with my chuya obi, then with the bordeaux michiyuki. I simply love this michiyuki, and it goes quite well with the tatewaku kimono! However, I’d never worn my chuya obi before, and the results are rather mediocre. It’s very supple; hard to make a crisp fold. On the plus side, the collar lines look nice, and my obiage knot has vastly improved.

. . . .
My hikifurisode! It’s so pretty *happy sigh*. But oh, is it hard to put on a hikifurisode alone! It’s so heavy that everything moves – it felt pointless to have gone to so much effort to get it to look right, then having the collar inch up and everything get all wrinkly while tying the obi. Anyway: the obi looks lovely with it, which makes me very happy. I’d been looking for just the right fukuro obi ever since I bought the hikifurisode, and finally found The One a month ago. I’ve been itching to try it! I chose a darari musubi, without turning over the obi in front. It ended up looking like a failed bunko musubi, as you can see from the back photo. Most embarrassing. The “wings” on either side should go up and over the “knot” in the center and cover one another at an angle. It was impossible to get right by myself, though – next time I’ll just try a plain bunko musubi.

. .
My fuji-patterned hitoe, worn with just a datejime. As this was the last kimono I tried on, I didn’t bother putting on an obi. The front and back are wrinkle-free: yatta!

Gagaku kurotomesode

October 29th, 2003 by Anna

Last week I won a kurotomesode that absolutely takes my breath away:

(photo taken by ebay seller ryujapan-99, who has a great selection.)
Closeup of the pattern

It’s my size (164cm – ideally I would take a kimono my height, or 178cm, but I can wear one as short as 160 and still have a passable ohashori; yet 160cm is still longer than the vast majority of used women’s kimono), in excellent condition, has motifs close to my heart, having studied music most of my life, and is double lined – not so rare, but not common, either. There was also a surprise awaiting: a knowledgeable kimono-loving friend noticed that the fans on it are akomeougi, used in the Heian period by women. A couple links on fans:
o Akomeougi (photos)
o Japanese lesson on sensu and ougi

Inspired by my new kurotomesode and wanting to figure out the symbolism in as much detail as possible, I looked for specific information on the instruments portrayed. There are flutes (shakuhachi, but they could also be hichiriki), kakko (a Heian side drum, looks like the modern kotsuzumi) and sho, a multi-reed, multi-pipe instrument that sounds a bit like a cross between a bagpipe and an organ, with an alto-soprano range. For further information on the instruments:
o Nipponia: The Color of Japanese music (be sure use the small “next” button at bottom)
o Japanese Flutes
o History of the sho
o Early Japanese music
o Gagaku (just the front page is in English, rest is in Japanese)

As you can see from the links, “gagaku” is mentioned often: this is court music which originated in the Heian period, and is still performed today. A gagaku ensemble is lead by the concert master, playing the kakko, and includes several different instrument types.

Taking into consideration the akomeougi, which hint at demure Heian ladies who would be behind them, it seems likely that my kurotomesode is meant to suggest a small Heian court concert. In addition, the significance of autumn and winter motifs in the dyed background circles becomes clear from the section on symbols in the book The Techniques of Japanese Embroidery: “The arrival of lengthening nights of autumn signaled the time for reading and music.” “Musical instruments […] suggest autumn. The most sophisticated music of court life was that derived from ancient Chinese court music and dance, called gagaku.” Thus the motif is, unsurprisingly, very appropriate for a kurotomesode, the most formal of kimono for married women.

I love formal kimono for the treasure hunts in symbolism they offer, and will be sure to add anything new I discover once I receive this one in the mail and get to see it in real life.

Hurray!

October 16th, 2003 by Anna

I’m very happy because I’ve had quite the stroke of luck. It’s funny because at the same time I was complaining a little on a kimono forum about never being able to find simple vintage woven kimono, preferably meisen, in my size (I’m far too tall for most of them), I came across two with nice designs and in good condition – and affordable! I’ve been looking for a kimono like them for years, literally. I admit, I’m addicted to browsing kimono on ebay and sellers’ sites… it’s how I wake up in the morning.

Here are the two beauties I won:
. .

On the left, a 1960s chirimen omeshi kimono with “tatewaku” (rising steam) motif, and on the right, a 1930s unlined “fuji” (wisteria) komon. Can you tell I like dark pink? As if that weren’t enough pink, I also dug up this beautiful iromuji michiyuki, a real steal at $15! (Why on earth wasn’t I outbid? It’s worth at least three times that!)

There’s also a closeup of the woven pattern on it. It’s very long at 48″, so will come down below my knees – it was probably meant to go down to a woman’s feet originally.

Note: All three of these were found thanks to Yamatoku.

Lesson 6: Juban basics

August 26th, 2003 by Anna

I finally had the time to do something I’ve long wanted to do: photograph the process of making and sewing on a han eri. I took the chance to also make a chikara nuno – juban collar adjustment – and photograph how to wear a juban with one. The photo-illustrated directions follow. All are interlinked, so you can start anywhere and easily navigate between them:

o How to make a chikara nuno
(followed by directions for attaching it)

o How to make a han eri

o How to prepare a han eri before sewing
(for a han eri you’ve made yourself or a ready-made one)

o How to sew on a han eri

o How to put on a juban with a chikara nuno

The juban directions are a sort of work in progress, as one day I hope to photograph and describe the entire process of wearing a kimono. However, at the moment I still need practice!

Please note that my directions aren’t meant to be definitive – there’s really no one way to do them. Nor am I an expert, just a kimono lover. My information has been gleaned from several kitsuke books, websites, discussion forums and my own kimono. If you would like to leave feedback, please do!

Wedding kimono

August 24th, 2003 by Anna

If you’re a kimono lover, you’ve probably noticed that amongst wedding kimono, there are shiromuku, uchikake, kakeshita, and wedding furisode. What’s the difference?

Shiromuku literally means “pure white”, and refers to a pure white wedding set, usually shiromuku (here used to designate the white uchikake), kakeshita and nagajuban. There may also be a layer called “shitagasane” between the nagajuban and kakeshita. As you can see from my description, shiromuku also means just the pure white uchikake – it depends on the context. The other layers may be called “shiromuku kakeshita” and “shiromuku shitagasane”.

Uchikake usually refers to “iro-uchikake”, or colored uchikake, rather than a white one (shiromuku).

Kakeshita is a furisode that closely resembles a wedding furisode, but is usually one color. It may also be patterned to match an uchikake, although this is rather uncommon. It has a padded, two-layered hem that trails beneath the uchikake’s hem.

Wedding furisode are worn by the bride after the ceremony proper, to the reception, for example. In Japanese they’re called hikifurisode (“trailing furisode”) and hanayome furisode (“bride furisode”). You can see some photos at these sites:
Inoue hikifurisode
NijoMaruhachi Collection: hikifurisode

For those interested in the Japanese terms:
白無垢 – しろむく, shiromuku
打掛け – うちかけ, uchikake
掛け下 – かけした, kakeshita
引き振袖 – ひきふりそで, hikifurisode
花嫁 振袖 – はなよめ ふりそで, hanayome furisode

References: Furisode kitsuke to obi musubi hyakka, The Book of Kimono, KON wedding rituals and kimono forum discussions. Also, I’ve changed the gallery description of what I previously called my kakeshita to that of a hikifurisode, as I’m almost certain now that it’s a wedding furisode rather than a kakeshita.

Au bonheur des Kimonos

May 25th, 2003 by Anna

This weekend I took a short trip to Paris, where among other things, I visited an exhibition at Mitsukoshi-Etoile, just near the Arc de Triomphe. The exhibition was on the history of Mitsukoshi, a prestigious Japanese department store with 300-plus years of history. As their beginnings were in kimono, much of it focused on kimono design. I’ve translated the French exhibition brochure, which is both interesting and informative. Family (last) names are in capitals.

This exhibition is a voyage into the history of a Japanese company, whose background melds with its home country’s economy and society. The exhibition combines company souvenirs and archives taken from its three centuries of existence.

1st floor
Reconstitution of the first store: Echigo-ya, specialized in sales of kimono fabric.

We are greeted by an ukiyo-e presenting the shop as it was originally: open on the sides, with clients sitting Japanese-style on tatami mats, while saleswomen show them fabric rolls. At front right, one saleswoman offers tea to a monk – the teapot can be seen behind Echigo-ya’s door. Behind these two people, a sword-bearing samurai enters the shop. At left, a group of customers around the cashier wait to hear the total for their merchandise. This attitude was brand new at the time: at Echigo-ya, payment was up front and in full. Previously, merchandise had been presented at the customer’s home, where the customer chose those goods that pleased them and paid later – weeks, even months later. The inevitable cash flow problems caused by this practice moved Echigo-ya’s founder, MITSUI Takatoshi, to come up with the system of direct payment that was to be the basis for his fortune. In a display case, we can see fabric and design samples from the 17th and 18th centuries, also a factor in the store’s success: these fabric samples were cut from kimono fabric rolls and given to customers for their perusal. A saying at that time was: “At Echigo-ya, you can hear silk being torn.” This was a compliment, as at the time, the idea was very novel.

In the large adjoining room, several ukiyo-e [ed.: most by Hiroshige] illustrate Edo’s atmosphere in the era of the same name (1615-1868). At the time, Edo was the most highly populated city in the world, and enjoyed peace and prosperity, favorable to a flourishing urban culture and economy based on interior trade. The art of ukiyo-e originated during this time, reflecting the capital’s amusements and attractions.

At left, reproductions of early photographs show us what became of Echigo-ya during the Meiji era: installation of the first European-style display cases, diversification of activities, and architectural transformations up to the Tokyo earthquake of 1923, which completely destroyed old Edo and took the lives of several thousands.

2nd floor
Old Edo has been totally lost, and Echigo-ya has become Mitsukoshi, a department store whose glory is still based on the quality and beauty of kimono, notwithstanding the modernization and diversification of products sold. The best period is that between the two World Wars. With a rich clientele and reasonable production costs, the store’s designers let their imaginations run wild, knowing that the extraordinary talent of Kyoto weavers allows them technical feats never before seen.

There are no kimono – all were sold. At such a level of “haute couture”, each kimono was unique, made for just one privileged wearer. We have only sketched designs and kimono fabric samples, visible in the display cases. Buyers would choose which colors they preferred.

Amongst the color furisode designs, whose motifs and color choices reveal something of the wearer’s personality, one in particular stands out. [Ed.: This refers to a furisode design with an amazing sho-chiku-bai motif done in dark, rich red on a black background. Dating from the 1920’s, the design was typically Taisho – large pine branch at bottom, plum blossoms nearly the size of one’s palm on gnarled plum branches flowing throughout the furisode, and three thick bamboo stalks going from hem to shoulder on the back – and yet it was bolder than anything I’ve ever seen from that period.]

In the second room we see uchiwa on one wall. These are summer fans which are not folded. They are used with yukata, lightweight summer kimono, and also as a way to present a letter, or as a geisha’s visiting card. The sketches and fabric samples are the most gorgeous of their time, bearing witness to artisans’ breathtaking skill. The grey silk sample, meant for a mature woman, shows a spider’s web in pine branches, symbol of longevity. [Ed.: The pine is a symbol of longevity, but I have never before seen a spider’s web on a kimono. What could it symbolize? There was a second fabric sample with a spider’s web on it, this time amongst falling red maple leaves, also on a grey background.]

In the third room are kimono worn for kabuki, donned by a famous actor [ed.: ONOE Kikugoro VI] in the 1920s and 30s, when Mitsukoshi lent and sold kabuki costumes to actors.

3rd floor
This floor displays posters from the early 1900s, made for advertising the store in train stations. These large images resembling Belle Epoque style show the island’s idea of beauty at the time: faces are expressionless, kimono are worn, gracefulness is all-important. Here and there we see hints of the exotic: European furniture, a French doll, ring on a finger – all illustrating the store’s modernity to prospective clients, while retaining traditional values.

This exhibition will be at Mitsukoshi-Etoile until July 5, 2003. Open Tuesday to Saturday from 2pm to 6pm, the address is: 3 rue de Tilsitt, Paris. Unfortunately, there is no book on sale for this particular exhibit, although there are books containing works from previous exhibitions on sale. Also, it is prohibited to take photographs of the exhibition.