Why Hana Has Chosen to Work for This Small Studio in the Mountains

The magic of Oigawa Mempa

Hana picked me up at the Shizuoka Station and we headed north.  After about an hour’s drive, we reached Oiya 大井屋, the shop and the studio where Hana chose to work after graduating from the Traditional Arts Super College of Kyoto (TASK).

The shop looked far from fashionable boutiques in Tokyo or Kyoto.  Why a young woman like Hana had chosen this place as her workplace, I wondered.

Mr. Maeda, Hana’s boss, greeted me with a big smile.  “Let’s have lunch together.”  Hana had already prepared lunch for three of us, neatly packed in, nothing else, their own Oigawa Mempa. 

Hana’s bento in their Oigawa Mempaphoto by Author

    What is Mempa

    A thinly-sliced wood is bent to form the side of the container… While similar types of this woodworking technique are found throughout Japan, it varies depending on the regions as to which wood is used, how the coating is done, and what people call them. In the Oigawa region, the mountainside of Shizuoka Prefecture, people call such wood containers “Mempa.”

    Hinoki cypress trees that grow locally are used for the body. Strips made of the local cherry tree bark are used to stitch together the edges. Kakishibu is used for the undercoat, and Urushi sap for the overcoat.

    Oiya is the only place remaining to make this type of wooden lunch boxes exactly the same way as has historically been made, using only natural materials.   


    Shaping, Bending, Stitching, and Gluing

    After lunch, Hana and Mr. Maeda led me to the workspace to walk me through the process of making their Mempa. 

    Hinoki Cypress wood board is first boiled in hot water so that it becomes soft enough to bend.  By rolling it with a cylinder-shaped tool several times, the boiled board is gradually bent. 

    Hana is making the side board bent – photo by Hana with permission

    By holding the edges of the board together with a special tool, they cut out slits and stitch together the edges with the cherry bark strip.

    Stitching the edges of the bent wood with the strip of cherry bark – photo by Author

    The side body is made by bending thinly sliced hinoki cypress.  The edges are stitched together with a strip of cherry bark – photo by Author

    Once the side of the container is formed, they put it together with the bottom part. 

    The bottom of the lunch box is also made of hinoki cypress– photo by Author

    Mugi Urushi 麦漆, paste made by mixing Urushi sap and flour, is used to glue together the bottom and the side of the container.  The gluten of flour mixed with Urushi creates a strong bond once the paste dries.

    Next Sabi Urushi 錆漆is applied on top of the stitches and the gap between the bottom and the side of the container.  Sabi Urushi is a mixture of Urushi sap and diatomite.  With finer particles, Sabi Urushi gives a smoother texture than Mugi Urushi, as well as filling the tiny gaps. 

    Hana applies Mugi Urushi麦漆  to glue together the bottom and the side of the container – photo by Author

    Hana applies Sabi Urushi錆漆  onto the threaded bark to smooth out – Photo by Author

    Both Mugi Urushi and Sabi Urushi are applied, now drying – photo by Author

    Mugi Urushi hardens after a day or so, but it takes at least 3 in the summer and almost 2 weeks in the winter for Sabi Urushi to completely harden.


    Undercoating, Overcoating, and Decorating the Surface

    The next step is to undercoat the body with Kakishibu.

    Kakishibu 柿渋 is the fermented juice of unripe persimmons.  For centuries in Japan, Kakishibu has been used to protect wood, fabrics, and paper from moisture, insects, and fungi.  Its antiseptic and antibacterial properties have now been scientifically proven. 

    For Oigawa Mempa, they apply kakishibu undercoating 4 or 5 times. Why apply kakishibu so many times?

    Hinoki cypress is a comparatively soft wood, therefore, it is easy to bend.  “Soft” also means it is easily scratched.  By applying kakishibu 4 or 5 times, the wood becomes harder and more resilient to scratches, as well as lighter, because the moisture in the wood is eliminated.

    “We apply Kakishibu on a sunny day, in a workspace outside in the shade.  After each time we apply Kakishibu, we place it under the sun.  When the layer is dried, we apply another layer.  We repeat this process 5 or 6 times.  Interestingly, I can feel the wood gets noticeably tighter and lighter after the third or fourth layer,” says Hana.

    Oigawa Mempa after Kakishibu is applied and dried – photo by Hana with permission

    Once the Kakishibu undercoat is applied, now it’s time to apply Urushi overcoat.

    The beautiful, shiny surface is the signature characteristic of Urushi.  Also, it adds water resilience, strength, and durability to the surface.  It also has antibacterial properties.  No wonder Urushi has been used for bowls, plates, and almost every form of food and drink containers in Japan for centuries. 

    Hana is applying Urushi overcoat – photo by Hana with permission

    Urushi is an interesting material.  Although people call the process “drying Urushi,” it’s actually a chemical reaction of hardening the substance, which requires high humidity. Once the overcoat is applied, the containers are kept in the “muro, ” the cabinet full of shelves.  Mr. Maeda opened the sliding door of the muro, where the containers were dried.  Before closing the door, he sprayed water onto the shelves to make sure to keep the humidity in the muro at about 80%. 

    Mr. Maeda is spraying water onto the shelves – Photo by Author

    The surface hardens in about a day in the muro.  Urushi may still irritate the skin until it completely hardens. Oiya waits at least a week before moving the containers to the storefront. 

    Each Mempa displayed in the showcase has a tag that tells when it was taken out from the muro.  Oiya suggests that customers wait for two months in the summer or three months in the winter before they start using the Mempa they purchased. 

    Completed Mempa on display – photo by Author

    Oiya’s Mempa used to have just a plain surface.  For Hana, who learned Makie 蒔絵 design at TASK, the plain surface has become a new canvas to try new designs. She first added Japan’s traditional designs.  Now she takes orders for custom designs. 

    Hana is applying Makie designs on the lid – photo by Hana with permission

    Mempa with Hana’s Makie designs – photos by Hana with permission

    So how long does it take to make a Mempa?  About how many Mempa does Oiya make in one batch? 

    From the start, when they cut the wooden boards, to finish, when they put them on the storefront, it takes about 3 months.  For each batch, they make 80 to 90 Mempa.  With two of them, they are making roughly one Mempa a day.

    ***

    Every summer, they make their own Kakishibu from organic persimmons that are locally harvested.  They purchase rough Urushi生漆 from a wholesaler, but they don’t depend on a third party to refine it.  They don’t mix any thinning solution to Urushi.  Rather, they make Urushi softer by painstakingly mixing it in the sunlight.   

    Mr. Maeda shows no compromise when it comes to the materials they use and the process they use to make their Mempa. 

    “Mempa is used to store our food, which is indispensable for our body and health.   How can we compromise its quality?” says Mr. Maeda. 

    Beside him, Hana was nodding each time Mr. Maeda made his comments.  I remembered that Hana had mentioned in her essay that her dream job would be to make lacquerware that are used by people every day.  Kudos to Hana for making her dream come true. 

    Mr. Maeda, Hana, and me with Mempa in our hands – photo by Author

    Hana will be coming to Seattle this summer.  For the Mempa I ordered, I asked her to design something that depicts Seattle.  What kind of design will she come up with?  I look forward to finding out!

    How to Make Miso at Home

    Can it be that simple?

    Miso is an ingredient I grew up with, but I never saw my mother making miso at home.  When one of my tea ceremony friends told me she makes miso at home from scratch once a year, I said, ”Oh, please let me join you when you make it next time!”  The day has finally come!


    There only three ingredients needed to make miso: Soybeans, rice koji, and salt.  Koji is fermented rice, and you can buy one even in the US.  My friend was kind enough to purchase all three for me so all I needed to bring was my pressure cooker and containers.

    My friend soaked soybeans in water overnight.  One kilogram of soybean were swollen up with water!  Even after draining excess water, it weighed over 2 kg. 

    I put the soybean into the pressure cooker, added water, and cooked for 20-30 minutes, until the beans became so soft that I could squeeze it easily with my fingers. 

    Once the soybean was cooked, I drained the water (but kept it in case I needed to use it later), and put it into the food processor.  You can also mash it with your hands.  For how long?  Well, I like my miso to have a little crunchiness, so I mashed it not too fine. 

    In a large bowl,  I mixed 1 kg of Koji and 400g of sea salt well by hand.  Then I added the mashed soybean and mixed it all together.  You can add the water you put aside at this point if the dough is too dry. 

    The containers used for storing miso should be sterilized.  We used vodka and sprayed it inside the containers. 

    The dough is ready to be stored in the containers.  The key point is to pack the dough so tightly that there is no air pocket in the dough.  With too much air pocket, black, unwanted mold will grow.  You don’t want that.   

    Seal the top with a wrap to avoid contacting the surface with air.  Once sealed tight, store it in a dark and cool place for 4 months.  After 4 months, mix it from the bottom and pack it tight again.  I can start enjoying the miso after 6 months.

    The process was simple, but a big question is if it will turn out well in 6 months… Let’s see!


    After making miso, my friend treated me with this wonderful lunch.  The miso soup is, of course, made from her own home-made miso! Many thanks to my dear friend!

    Kinsai 金彩 and Embroidery 刺繍: Yuzen’s Last Process

    We Love Kimono Project 10

    The dyeing process is over, but the Yuzen 友禅process is not complete yet, said Mamiya-san, my kimono retailer.  What else is there, you may wonder.  So did I.

    According to Kosaka-san, the kimono maker, there are two more processes.  One is Kinsai 金彩, and the other is Shishu 刺繍.

    Kinsai 金彩 literally means decoration with gold.  On top of the design colored with Yuzen resist dyeing, a craftsman applies ultra-thin gold film or paste mixed with fine gold powder.  Nowadays, not only gold but silver, platinum, and other metalic colors are added.

    Shishu 刺繍 is a Japanese word for embroidery.

    Both Kinsai and Shishu add three-dementional aspect to the colorful but flat design of Yuzen dyeing.  If you fill with too much Kinsai and shishu, however, the design will lose its original elegance and turn to a flamboyant but ungraceful pattern. 

    Where to apply Kinsai and Shishu, how much, and how, so that the design achieves the ultimate depth without losing its elegance… every Yuzen kimono maker strives for the perfect combination.

    Kosaka-san’s choice was to add some silver paste and embroidery with silver thread on top of the Islamic design.  Culculating how the light reflects on the kimono design when worn, he knows exactly which part should be decorated with such shiny objects. 

    There is no manual, textbook, or algorithm for this work.  I doubt if Artificial Intelligence can ever perfect this work.

    Mamiya-san told me that this design on the photo is not the actual design that will be on my kimono.  When Kosaka-san dyed the kimono fabric, he drew the same design on the edge of the kimono fabric, which usually has some buffer in length. 

    Knowing this edge will be cut off and not used when the kimono is finally sewn, Kosaka-san is using this pattern as a place where he can experiment. The final design shown on the kimono may be slightly different from this, said Mamiya-san.

    By the way, did you notice that the kimono fabric has fine stripes across it?  This fabric type is called ro絽.  After every odd number of weft, like 3, 5, or 7, two warp threads are crossed over, creating small gaps between the weft.

    The summer in Japan is hot and humid.  You want the fabric to be as airy as possible.  Ro is one of the solutions for keeping you cooler. 

    Irosashi 色挿し – Freehand Dyeing

    We Love Kimono Project 9

    Jizome 地染, the process of dyeing the kimono fabric with the base color, is complete.  The Fuse-nori 伏糊, the paste applied onto the designs to resist the base color to penetrate the fabric, has been washed away.  The Itome 糸目, the finely drawn design, is still intact on the fabric.  At this stage, the craftsman moves on to the next step: Irosashi色挿し.


    Irosashi 色挿し

    Iro 色means colors.  Sashi 挿しmeans to apply.  In this process, the craftsman directly applies different colors of dye onto the fabric using small brushes.  Bordered by Itome, one color is not mixed with the neighboring color.  Like freehand painting, the number of colors to be used is almost limitless.  That’s the distinct characteristics of Tegaki Yuzen 手描き友禅.


    With the medashi of my obi right next to the Itome design of the kimono fabric, the Yuzen craftsman decides which color to apply where.

    Depending upon the size of the area, s/he uses different sizes and shapes of the brush.  For creating gradation, s/he uses a flat-tip brush.  Since this Islamic Flower design is so fine, the craftsman mainly uses brushes with pointed tips.  



    Once the irosashi 色挿し is complete, the fabric is again steamed and then rinsed with water.  This time Itome is washed away along with the excess dye.  The lines created with Itome are now shown in white. 

    I placed the photo of the medashi of my obi (left) and the one of the Yuzen pattern of my kimono (right) next to each other.  The shape of the design and the color gradation are almost identical, but the outer circle is more prominent on the kimono fabric.  This subtle difference gives the illusion that the two designs are somewhat different whereas harmony is still maintained. Very cool, Kosaka-san.  I like the way it turned out.

    Fuse Nori 伏糊 and Jizome 地染…Techniques of Dyeing Kimono Fabric

    We Love Kimono Project 8

    Fuse-nori 伏糊: Covering with paste

    Once the Itome-oki 糸目置 is complete, the craftsman moves on to the process called fuse-nori 伏糊. 

    Fuse-nori is a mixture of sticky rice, rice bran, salt, and water.  Its texture is thick like a paste.  The craftsman applies the fuse-nori evenly to cover the whole area where the Itome-oki, the paste-dyeing, is done.   

    S/he then sprinkles sawdust on the fuse-nori.  The covered area with fuse-nori and the sawdust is left intact when the rest of the fabric is dyed with the basic color.


    Jizome地染: Dyeing the basic color

    The next step is to dye the fabric with the base color.  This is called 地染jizome.    

    The standard length of a kimono fabric is about 12 – 13 meters, or forty feet.  The craftsman first clamps both ends of the fabric and hangs it across.  A very long room is needed for this process. 

    S/he places bamboo sticks in an arch shape across the short side of the fabric, so that the tension of the sticks keeps the fabric straight.  About two hundred sticks are used.  Once the fabric is hung long with its surface stretched flat, it’s ready to spread the dye.

    Using a flat brush, the craftsman swiftly spreads the dye so that the color is spread evenly all through the fabric.  Mamiya-san’s design has this river-like flow.  The craftsman implements a special technique called bokashi暈し to shade off the wisteria color at the border. 

    Both spreading the dye evenly across the long fabric and shading off the color naturally require a high level of skills, acquired only with experience. 

    The craftsman spreads the dye on both the front and the back side of the fabric.  On the back side, you can see the bamboo sticks spreading the fabric with the tension.


    Mushi 蒸し:Steaming

    Once the basic color is applied, the fabric is left to dry.  Then the fabric is folded loosely and put into a small enclosure where it is steamed at a high temperature for twenty to fifty minutes.  The darker the color, the longer it takes to steam.  This way the color of the dye seeps into the yarns of the fabric thoroughly. 

    Mizumoto 水元 : Rinsing off with water

    Once the fabric is steamed, it’s time to wash away the excessive dye and fuse-nori. 

    In the old days, one would see kimono craftspeople washing their kimono in the Kamo River and other rivers around Kyoto.

    Contamination of the river water, however, became a major concern.  In 1971 washing out the kimono fabric on the river water was completely banned. Yuzen makers had to create an alternative method. 

    The photo above shows how the washing-out process is carried out today.  Kyoto has abundant underground water.  Now the water is pumped through the well into an indoor pool.  The water used to wash the kimono fabric is treated before it flows back into the wastewater system.

    Trial and Error of Obi Making – Master Craftsman’s Pursuit for Perfection

    We Love Kimono Project 6

    In early August 2020.  Mamiya-san, my kimono retailer, received a “medashi 芽出し” from Katsuyama-san, the Obi maker.  What is it?  I had no clue. 


    Medashi is a trial sample that an obi maker weaves.  Before making the complete obi, the maker weaves the main design pattern using the sample yarns.  This way, any further requests or changes from the customer can be reflected in the course. 

    Mamiya-san tried to snail mail the medashi to me just like he did with the base color sample of the kimono fabric.  (See We Love Kimono Project 3).  However, due to the worsening pandemic, all the airmail from Japan to the US was suspended.  Surface mail would take three or more months.  We had no choice but to fall back on relying on digital photos this time.

    The photo above is a close-up of the medashi.  I noticed some light pink and gold colors were included together with the wisteria blue that was used as the anchor color.  Starting in the center of the Islamic Flower design, different patterns radiated one after another.  The yarn of the raised part looked thicker than the recessed part, but can it be?  I was mesmerized by its complexity.

    The back side shows you how many different yarns are used for making this one design. 

    I thought it was beautiful.  Shall we move on?   No, was Mamiya-san’s feedback.  According to Mamiya-san, Katsuyama-san was overusing the colors.  Is the gold thread really necessary?  What about pink? 

    Since Mamiya-san has worked with Katsuyama-san many times before, Mamiya-san didn’t hold back his candid opinion.  Let’s make it simpler, he suggested. That way Katsuyama-san’s true graceful design will be more prominent.  Mamiya-san convinced Katsuyama-san to make a second try.

    I asked Mamiya-san if I could still keep the first medashi.  Sorry, Akemi-san.  This is Katsuyama-san’s important property. He is to keep it so that he can reference it for his future work.  It is less likely he will make exactly the same one.  But it’s important that Katsuyama-san keeps all the medashi as his portfolio. 


    Soon after Mamiya-san sent me a photo of the first medashi, he sent me this photo.  What is this? Are these the colors that Mamiya-san chose for my obi?  I was horrified.

    Don’t worry, Akemi-san.  They are not the final colors, Mamiya-san assured me.  These colorings are a necessary part of the weaving process.

    The Nishijin district in Kyoto implemented Jacquard looms from France in the late nineteenth century.  Katsuyama-san’s weavers are trained in this technique.  Katsuyama-san first draws and paints the obi design onto a paper grid.  The photo above is of hand-painted grid design paper.  Each column represents one warp yarn, and each row represents one weft yarn.  In order to make sure that the weaver doesn’t get confused, the convention is to use distinct colors for each different color thread.  The colors on this paper have nothing to do with the real colors.

    This is the closeup of the grid paper.

    Once drawing and painting on the grid paper is finished, Katsuyama-san scans it to a computer for two reasons.  One is to create Jacquard punch cards; the other is to create another paper for weavers to use as a guiding source when s/he weaves this pattern.

    This is the closeup of the Jacquard punch cards.  Each card is narrow and long, indicating how each warp should be lifted so the weft can go through. Each card has eight rows, which are meant to control eight weft yarns.  The cards are bound together with the white thread as shown. 

    I remembered a photo I took when I visited Katstuyama-san’s studio.  The long rail of punch cards was hanging from the top of the loom.  I never knew then, but that’s how they control the warp.  I asked Mamiya-san how many cards were punched and put together like this for my obi.  He replied: 9200 cards!

    This is the reference paper that the weaver uses.  She has a table that indicates which color on the paper corresponds to which color of the real yarn.  

    When I visited Katsuyama-san’s studio, the weaver was working on the obi with the diamond design.  The paper shown here must have been her reference paper.

    I heard that the Jacquard punch cards are replaced with computers nowadays.  Why still use the physical punch cards, I asked.  Because if a mistake is made, it is easy to find it with the punch cards and correct it right away. 

    Why hand loom instead of using a machine?  According to the book Nishijin Ori – Nihon no Senshoku 11 published by Tairyusha (p. 77), a machine can handle up to ten different colors. If the obi uses more colors, a hand loom is a must.  Some obis use over fifty different colors!

    The book was written in 1976.  Machine looms must have advanced quite a bit since then. But Katsuyama-san still chooses handloom, because this way each obi looks slightly different and has its own beauty that can’t be replaced with any other.


    About four months after I received the first medashi photo, I got a photo of the second one. 

    The second medashi had no gold thread, no pink, but more subtle variations of blues and wisteria colors.  The outer rim of the design is now a much lighter color.  Mamiya-san said, let’s go with this one.

    Mamiya-san will show this medashi to Kosaka-san so that Kosaka-san can determine the base color of the kimono.  Kosaka-san will draw Yuzen design on the left shoulder and the bottom front of the kimono based on this medashi.

    I asked Mamiya-san if Katsuyama-san always makes two medashis for an obi.  Not normally.  Since this project was an unusual collaboration, it was necessary to take an extra step.  I appreciate the craftsman’s attention to detail.  I bet Katsuyama-san pursues efficiency in his process.  But sometimes efficiency gives way to the pursuit of perfection.  I’m learning how a craftsman works.

    Kimono Design Determines the Formality

    We Love Kimono Project 4

    The base color of my kimono is selected.  The next step is to decide on the kimono design.  And an expert’s advice is crucial at this stage if you don’t want to screw up. 


    In Western culture, there is certain dress code depending on the occasions.  As a mother, you don’t wear jeans for your child’s wedding reception, but choose a dress, maybe a long one. 

    With kimono, such a dress code exists also, only more complicated. 

    What determines the formality of a kimono?  There are several factors.

    •  Material

    Among different types of material, silk is the most formal.  Kimono made of cotton, linen, or wool, is considered casual and not to be worn on formal occasions.

    • Number and method of crests

    Among silk kimono, the ones with crests, either five, three, or one, are more formal.  The more crests, the more formal.  Crests are either dyed or embroidered, and the dyed one is more formal than the embroidered one.

    If the kimono has five or three crests, all the crests are dyed.  If the kimono has only one crest, the crest can be either dyed or embroidered.  The dyed one is more formal.

    • Design pattern

    A silk kimono with five or three crests has an elaborate design only on the bottom.

    A silk kimono with one or no crest can have design all over.  If the design continues across the seam lines on the left shoulder and the bottom, it’s more formal.  If the design is cut off on the seam lines, the kimono is less formal.


    Tea gatherings are not as formal as weddings, but they are still considered pretty formal.  Even for the summer kimono, the fabric should be silk, not cotton or linen.  For my kimono, Mamiya-san suggested having one crest dyed on the back, with connected designs on the left shoulder and the bottom.

    This type of kimono is called Homongi 訪問着.

    Mamiya-san, my retailer, sent me a rough design he sketched.  It reminded me that Mamiya-san majored in art in college. 

    Analog Way to Choose the Base Color of My Kimono

    We Love Kimono Project 3

    After choosing the obi design, Mamiya-san moved on to selecting the base color of my kimono.  In order to keep harmony with the kimono and the obi, Mamiya-san suggested using the kimono’s base color as an accent in the obi also.  I agreed.

    Which color do I want?

    Blue is my favorite color, and my last three cars were all in cobalt blue.  So should be my summer kimono!

    “OK, I will send you several sample fabrics via physical mail,” said Mamiya-san.  Why physical mail?  Why doesn’t he simply take a photo of the fabrics and send it to me electronically? I asked. 

    “Well, look at the photos of your kimono on the screen.  The same kimono looks quite different from one photo to the other.  It’s too risky to choose the color without seeing it on the real fabric,” said Mamiya-san. 

    By then the pandemic situation already started to affect the mail delivery schedule.  We were nervous, but Mamiya-san mailed the sample to me anyway.


    The color samples took exactly three weeks to reach me in Seattle, while in a normal situation it would take less than a week. 

    Seven pieces of cloth were glued on a sheet of white paper, with the numbers 1 through 7 written next to each piece.  All the pieces looked like the leftovers from rolls of kimono fabric.  Numbers 5, 6, and 7 looked to be the edge of the roll because part of them was left undyed. 

    These seven colors were quite different to the naked eye even though they were more or less the wisteria color.  Numbers 1-3 were much brighter than 4 and 5.  Numbers 6 and 7 were dull compared to #1-3.  Number 1 was the most brilliant. 

    Once I received the sample fabrics, I chatted with Mamiya-san online.  He asked about Seattle summers. How does the sky look compared to Japan’s summer sky?

    “The blue is much clearer than the sky in Japan”, I replied.

    Then let’s go with No. 1, he said.

     “I wouldn’t recommend this color to a customer in Japan, but it would be suitable under the blue sky in Seattle,” he said. 

    I took a photo of the color sample with my iPhone, uploaded it on my computer, and looked at it on the screen.  Where did the wide variety of shades and shines go?  On my computer screen, most of them look the same!  How could I possibly choose the right color?   

    Mamiya-san was right.  I appreciated that he sent me the physical sample. 

    By the way, Mamiya-san mentioned that one of the colors is called “Fuji Nando藤納戸.”  Fuji means wisteria, and Nando means storage room.  The color that wisteria flowers would look like in a dim storage room…  Such an intriguing expression to describe a color, isn’t it?

    The Starting Point: Obi Design

    We Love Kimono Project 2

    Although Mamiya-san has produced hundreds of kimono and obi during his long career as a kimono retailer, the We Love Kimono Project was a new challenge for him. 

    Previously, Mamiya-san either produced a kimono to match an existing obi, or a new obi to match an existing kimono.  With this project, however, he would produce both a new kimono and a new obi simultaneously.  Where to start? How to communicate with both the obi maker and the kimono maker?  Mamiya-san had many things to explore.

    I really wanted the obi to be made by Katsuyama-san.  Although he was not willing to make any more summer obi due to the lack of demand, thanks to Reiko-san’s persuasive pitch, Katsuyama-san agreed to make one for me, utilizing one of Rakufulin‘s designs.

    The starting point was choosing the obi design.


    Reiko-san sent me photos of two obi designs, recommended by Katsuyama-san.

    One was called Shippo七宝. Four oval shapes overlap one another.  With the literal meaning “seven treasures”, the design is one of the traditional Yusoku 有職 designs, cherished by Japanese aristocrats for more than a thousand years.

    The other one was called Islamic Flower, an original design of Rakufulin, created from Horie-san’s fabric collections. 

    I like both!  How can I choose one?  That’s when Mamiya-san came to rescue me. 

    After seeing several photos of me in a kimono, he recommended the second one. “The first one would look a little too soft on you.  The second one is more impactful and better suited for you.”  OK, Mamiya-san.  I will follow your suggestion.  One decision was made.

    We Called It “We Love Kimono Project”

    Documenting how my summer kimono and obi were made

    As soon as the year 2020 began, I started planning my next spring trip back to Japan. One of the itineraries was a visit to Mamiya-san, my new kimono retailer, in his store in Osaka.

    Although my kimono collection grew thanks to my mother and her friends handing me down their old ones, I was still lacking a summer kimono formal enough to wear for tea ceremony gatherings.  Since our tea ceremony group in Seattle was planning a special gathering to celebrate its 50th anniversary in the summer of 2021, I convinced myself to get a new one for this occasion.

    I emailed Mamiya-san about my plan.  He was excited. Let’s discuss it over dinner!  He would contact Reiko-san of Rakufulin so that she could join.  I was looking forward to meeting them again in Japan. 

    Then COVID-19 hit the world…

    I had to cancel my trip.  Early April Mamiya-san closed his store.  All of a sudden, business just halted, and Reiko-san had to put her employees on furlough.  Let’s talk, I suggested, and we scheduled for a video chat.


    I asked Mamiya-san and Reiko-san if they could choose a summer obi and kimono for me.  Preferably Katsuyama-san’s summer obi.  Reiko-san’s response was shocking.  Katsuyama-san was unlikely to make any more summer obis.  There is just not enough demand any more.  Oh no!  Reiko-san also said this lockdown would push more craftspeople to retire.  No no!  That can’t happen!

    “Before it’s too late, please make both kimono and obi for me,”  – Akemi

    “Why not have both the kimono and the obi custom made so that they match perfect?” – Mamiya-san

    “Let’s document and post the process, on Mamiya-san’s blog in Japanese, and on my blog in English! So that many more people will be interested to have their own kimono custom made” – Akemi

    “Rakufulin doesn’t have a website, but it’s time to communicate what we do directly to end customers.” – Reiko-san

    “I can help you make a simple website.” – Akemi

    “Let’s call this We Love Kimono Project!” – We all agreed.