Shabu-shabu with Ame and Mischie!

Tonight I met up with a few of the awesome girls from the Immortal Geisha forums for a warming dinner of shabu-shabu. It’s cold and damp and snowy and icy here, so I decided to wear my black, white, and red wool kimono and hike it up a bit with some boots. I figured it would be a great time to wear my new red-orange Tokaido obi, and had a bit of fun accessorizing with a sandy beige and red keffiyeh (shemagh).

Shabu Shabu

Ame went along the same lines and wore an adorable black wool ensemble, but mischie was very brave and wore a gorgeous black silk houmongi with ume. It was entirely accidental, but we were all wearing black, white, and red outfits!

Shabu Shabu Shabu Shabu
Shabu Shabu

The food was delicious. We went to Kagayaki Shabu-Shabu in Montreal’s Chinatown. It was warming and flavourful and perfect for the weather.

Shabu Shabu
Shabu Shabu

After we finished dinner, we went to a fancy hotel nearby to take photos over their gorgeous koi pond and to relax and have a drink. As usual, I could not resist being a giant ham. Look! Fishies!
Shabu Shabu

Ame with her Pink Lady
Shabu Shabu

Mischie with a cappucino (in a super pretty cup!)
Shabu Shabu

And me being a jackass with a Bloody Cesar. Hey baby, come here often?
Shabu Shabu

I had a great time, and can’t wait to have another kimono meetup. Maybe not until it warms up a little though!

Red Tokaido Nagoya

If you’re anything of a regular reader, you’ll know of my fondness for items with the 53 Stations of the Tokaido motif. I also love the colour red. So when I saw this online, I clearly had to go for it!

I like it because it’s simple and vibrant, and also has two stations I did not have yet on obi. I had Nihonbashi on a fan, but I like having them on wearable pieces better. I also find it interesting that the other station, Kanagawa, is from Aritaya, one of the “other” editions of the prints (the standard one used for this sort of thing being the Hoeido edition).

Red Tokaido hakata obi

Start point, Nihonbashi Bridge
Red Tokaido hakata obi

Station 4, Kanagawa (Aritaya edition)
Red Tokaido hakata obi



Geisha-inspired Meta-kimono outfit

I was so smitten with the kimono that arrived yesterday that I decided to put it on today, despite not having anywhere to go. Sometimes it’s nice to wear kimono just for the sake of wearing kimono – especially delicate vintage pieces.

There’s still a bit of ambiguity about what this piece actually is, but the general consensus on the Immortal Geisha forums is that it’s likely a vintage hikizuri. Because of that, I decided to go with a geisha-inspired outfit. Not a full on costume, but proper kimono with a bit of “flair”, if you will. I paired the kimono up with a red juban, a black and white hakata obi, and used a red shigoki obi in lieu of a momi (the red cloth geisha wear wrapped around their torso under the obi). I am really pleased with how this pulled together, and took far more photos than I usually do. Sorry about that!

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Because of the formality, the styling choices, and the age of the kimono, this is not an outfit I’d feel particularly comfortable wearing out of the house, but I think it turned out well and I felt very pretty in it.

It’s not enough. We have to go deeper.

Why yes, that was indeed a reference to Inception as today’s subject line. Not only is it one of my favourite movies of the year (and possibly of all time), it is entirely relevant to the kimono I received this morning. If you’re familiar with Inception, the concept of a “dream within a dream” will be very familiar to you. So imagine someone like me, who dreams of kimono regularly, finding “kimono within kimono.”

When I first saw it on eBay I was completely smitten. It is a kurotomesode (short sleeved, five-crested black formal kimono), which is definitely something I don’t need more of. However, rather than the relatively typical celebratory designs of cranes, flowers, carts, fans, etc, the pattern on this kimono is… kimono! All around the inside and outside hem of this kimono are wooden racks with kimono out to dry, as well as bowls and tools for washing. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I knew I had to have it. It ended up going for a bit more than I’d hoped to spend, but was still well worth the investment.

Both the age and the usage of this kimono are a bit of a mystery. The design is very avante-garde and non-standard for a normal woman, and the hem is slightly padded, which weigh in the favour of it being a hikizuri of some sort. The length of the kimono is also longer than average for its apparent age, but not quite long enough to be proper hikizuri. It may have been made for a particularly short geisha, or possibly just a very stylish woman. It’s hard to say. The sleeves are lined in red, which is a typical element of Taisho and early Showa era kimono, but they are slightly shorter than average for that era. The body is also lined in white, not red, but that may have been replaced at some point during its lifespan.

Update, April 22, 2012 – Naomi recently discovered the existence of a motif known as tagasode, or “whose sleeves?”

Literally, “whose sleeves?.” Painting theme depicting beautiful kimono 着物 draped across a wooden rack, ikou 依桁. The subject was usually painted on folding screens *byoubu 屏風 and became popular in the late Momoyama and early Edo periods (16c and early 17c). Although the subject is highly decorative, the word tagasode has deep literary connotations and probably originated from a line in KOKIN WAKASHUU 古今和歌集 (905): “Iro yorimo/ka koso aware to /omohoyure/tagasode fureshi/yado no ume zomo 色よりも/香こそあはれと/おもほゆれ/誰が袖ふれし/宿の梅ぞも”. Tagasode often implies a beautiful woman whose absence is missed, since beautiful sleeves are thought to evoke the image of an elegant woman and the fragrance arising from her kimono.
In early examples, typical objects belonging to a room in the pleasure quarters or even a beautiful woman herself were depicted; a screen in the Burke Collection, New York (early 17c), includes a musical instrument, koto 琴, while two young women are painted on early 17c screens in the Nezu 根津 Museum, Tokyo. Variations on the tagasode theme became more removed from literary associations, and finally the kimono and stand remains as the only motifs depicted against gold foil background. There are many examples from the Edo period, often by unknown genre artists.

 

source – JAANUS, tagasode

Outside view
Meta-Kimono

Inside view
Meta-Kimono

Outer details
Meta-Kimono

Meta-Kimono

Meta-Kimono

Inner details
Meta-Kimono

Meta-Kimono

It’s absolutely beautiful up close – everything is covered in tiny and delicate patterns, from the kimono to the racks holding them up. The kimono are all outlined in gold couching thread which is in impeccable condition, no drooping or detached threads anywhere that I can find.

I seem to have a knack for finding kimono that are technically kurotomesode but have characteristics that may throw them off. My chidori and matsu hybrid kimono is another prime example. As for this piece, it may be an oddity, and I may not know who wore it or when, but I love it nonetheless.

Giving an old obi new life

When I first started this blog, I posted about my amazing crow obi, and mentioned that the silk backing had rotted out due to age, and I had plans to replace it.

Fast forward um, a year and a bit, and my procrastinating self has finally accomplished something! The obi fabric and original lining had been sitting folded in a bag for quite a while and I decided it was high time to finally give it the respect it deserves. If you’ve ever been curious about the construction of an obi, or have an obi yourself that needs to be redone, please read on!

The first step was to separate the obi silk from the obi-shin (stiffening core). They were not sewn together, but have been stuck to each other for what may be nearly a century at this point, so this involved a bit of careful peeling apart.

Isn’t my kitty ironing board cute? You’ll be seeing an awful lot of it in this entry XD

Once the two pieces were separated, I carefully ironed the seam allowance of the obi silk open. I ironed it enough to make the piece lie flat, but left the original fold line visible so I would have a straight line to sew along later without having to mark up the fabric.

Here is the whole piece with the seam allowance ironed flat. You can see how much the colour has faded over the years, but since the allowance will be hidden this isn’t really a problem. I just thought it was interesting and worth sharing.

The next step was to pin the wrong sides together of the obi silk and the black satin I was using for a backing piece. This was exceptionally tedious and I pricked my fingers several times!

Here’s the entire thing pinned together and taking up too much space on my floor. Yes, there is a disgusting area rug on top of disgusting wall-to-wall carpet on my basement. The floor gets cold so I’d rather icky and comfortable over stylish but clammy!

Once everything was pinned together, the next logical step was sewing. Lots and lots and lots of sewing. Due to the fragile nature of the silk and the fact that the obi gets tugged and pulled a lot, this all had to be done by hand, in a closely-spaced but loose slip stitch. I saved a huge amount of time by doing Japanese-style hand-stitching. This is hard to explain, but it basically involves holding the needle still and rocking the thread back and forth until a handful of stitches are lined up on the needle, and then pulling it through. This video gives an amazing visual demonstration with no explanation needed. Once you get the hang of sewing like this, it is an enormous time-saver.

Once both long sides are completely sewn, I ironed the seam allowances down again so it would lie flat. I found it easiest to do one fabric and then the other, rather than trying to press both sides at the same time.

Once the outer parts of the obi were sewn together, I folded them carefully, put them aside, and got to work on the shin (core). An obi is constructed somewhat like a sandwich, with the two visible pieces of silk on the outside, like the “bread”, and the shin in the centre, like a filling. The shin is usually a piece of heavy cloth, sometimes flannel, sometimes duck-cloth, and it serves to give body and stiffness to the obi. Without the shin, the obi would not lie flat and smooth when wrapped and tied around the body. If you’ve ever seen a cosplayer with a really crumpled, lumpy obi that has sort of collapsed on itself over the course of the day, odds are they made themselves an obi without using any sort of a shin or core.

The obi had a shin inside of it, a sort of brushed flannel-y material, but it had gotten incredibly soft over the years, so I decided to reinforce it. I found a roll of obi-shin fabric on eBay, but if you can’t find one specifically, any thicker fabric with a bit of body will work. Because the fabric of the obi itself is so thin, I figured a bit of extra stiffness would be good and used both the old shin and the new one together.

I used the old shin to determine the size of the new one. After I’d folded it to match the size of the old piece, I pinned it down and ironed it flat so it would stay in shape.

I pinned both shin together temporarily, just to make them easier to deal with and prevent things from shifting around while I worked.

With the two pieces pinned together, it was much easier to lay them out and tuck them into the folded seam allowances of the obi lining. Thankfully, I had assistance in the form of a Tribble. And yes, that is her tongue sticking out in the large version. For a mutt-cat, she is incredibly brachycephalic and tends to leave her tongue hanging out a bit because it doesn’t fit in her mouth properly. Poor boo.

Once all the pieces were sandwiched together inside-out, the next step was to turn the whole thing right-side-out. First step was to remove all the pins to make sure none got trapped inside when I was done. Unfortunately I do not have any photos of this phase, because both my arms were very busy and my father was helping me. I will do my best to explain how we did it. I held the end open while he reached inside and carefully pinched all four layers and pulled them outwards through the other end. If you’ve ever cased a sausage, it was a similar procedure. After it was properly turned, I used some delicate fabrics hemming tape to shut the ends. I could have sewn it, but I’ve used the hemming tape before and was pleased with how gentle and permanent the results were so I figured I’d save a little time.

And here she is, finally finished! I’m very proud that I actually finished this, and am very pleased with the results.