It was not sold off the rack
I still remember the day my mother and I chose my first kimono and obi. Over 40 years ago. I was in junior high. The process was totally different from the way I buy a sweater today.
Once my father gave my mother a go for purchasing my first kimono, my mother called the kimono retailer that she had known for a long time. The person was working in Namba Store of Takashimaya, a major department store.
Over the long history, many different types of kimonos emerged with various dying and weaving techniques. Conventions and unwritten social rules of what type of kimono and obi to wear for what kind of occasions developed as well. Not everyone was knowledgeable about such dos and don’ts of kimono protocol. Especially my mother, who grew up in a backward country village, didn’t consider herself sophisticated enough. Consulting an experienced kimono retailer in a big city like Osaka was a safe bet.
The retailer first asked questions like for what occasion and in which season I would be wearing my kimono. The retailer then asked more personal questions like how tall I was or what my favorite color was.
A few days later, the retailer came to our house (by taxi!) with several roles of kimonos and obis. None of them had been sewn yet. Based on our previous conversation, she had picked candidates for me, taking various factors into consideration.
By spreading each kimono and obi fabric in front of me and my mother, the retailer explained how formal it was ranked and how the fabric was dyed or woven. Out of all the kimonos, this black one with colorful patterns of flowers and leaves stood out. “This one!” I said. Why I picked black? Maybe others looked too girlish to me.
“Nice choice!” said the retailer. “With this kimono, you first have long sleeves. When you get older, you can cut the sleeves shorter and still wear it.” Cut the sleeves and keep on wearing it for years? I felt the concept intriguing.
So we selected the kimono fabric. The next step was to pick an obi to go with it. The retailer again laid out several candidates. “The obi is Nishijin,” she said. “Good!” said my mother. The word “Nishijin 西陣” was a stamp of approval for her. (What is Nishijin? I will write about it soon later.)
After putting the kimono fabric onto my shoulder and obi around my belly to see how it looked on me, finally my mother and I selected the one in the picture. The retailer took the measurement of my body so that the fabric would be sewn to fit me perfectly, then left.
In about a month or so, the retailer came back with the sewn kimono and obi. The Kimono had lining in matching color. The retailer picked matching accessories such as sandals also.
This was the typical process of having a kimono made back then. No kimono off the rack. Every kimono was custom-made.