Long before fashion week collaborations and limited-edition celebrity merchandise, Japan’s Edo period (1615–1868) was already fusing fame and fabric in brilliant ways. Kabuki actors, the superstars of their time, captivated audiences not only with their performances but also with their bold stage costumes, sparking real-world fashion trends among a growing urban population.
One striking example can be found in a woodblock print held at the Victoria and Albert Museum titled New Designs at Yamatoya [Yamatoya shiire shingata]. Created between 1832 and 1840 by artists Utagawa Kunisada, the image showcases six bold kimono patterns inspired by the kabuki star Bandō Mitsugorō V.
Utagawa Kunisada, New Designs at Yamatoya [Yamatoya shiire shingata], woodblock print, published 1832–40, Victoria and Albert Museum, London.
The print is more than a stylish illustration; it’s a piece of early commercial theatre. In Edo Japan, kabuki actors were the celebrities of their time, and their on-stage looks sparked real-world fashion trends. Kimono shops quickly caught on, producing summer robes and accessories featuring motifs and crests associated with these actors. The actors gained publicity; the shops sold more kimono. Everyone won, especially the fans, who could now wear their admiration quite literally on their sleeves.
In this print, six distinct patterns are displayed like a designer’s lookbook: bold geometrics, stylised florals, crest-like emblems, and flowing linework, each one likely tied to the on-stage persona or costume of Mitsugorō. They reflect not only the aesthetics of the kabuki stage but also the everyday aspirations of Edo’s urban population, who were hungry for novelty, status, and connection through fashion.
Pattern Spotlight: The Kamawanu Crest
One of the most iconic actor-associated patterns of the Edo period is the kamawanu (鎌わぬ) motif. The motif is a combination of a sickle (kama, 鎌), the phonetic character wa (わ), and the ideogram for “not” (nu, ぬ). Together, they form a visual pun meaning “I don’t care” or “No problem.” Though that might sound flippant, it was exactly the kind of cheeky, cool-headed phrase that resonated with kabuki audiences.
Example of the Kamawanu Motif, Composed of Sickle, Ring, and the Kana ‘Nu’.
This pattern was famously used by the seventh-generation kabuki actor Ichikawa Danjūrō and became a massive trend among his fans. It expressed the bold, carefree spirit of the kyōkaku (侠客), an outlaw heroes who walked the line between criminal and romantic rebel. Wearing the pattern was a way for townspeople to channel that rebellious charisma in their daily life.
A stunning example can be seen in a print of Ichikawa Kodanji IV held by the Ota Memorial Museum of Art in Tokyo. His costume features the kamawanu motif prominently, and the museum notes that this hanjimono (visual riddle) expressed the daring spirit of kabuki and Edo-period masculinity.
Ichikawa Kodanji IV in Kamawanu-Patterned Costume. Woodblock print. Edo period, Ota Memorial Museum of Art, Tokyo.
Unlike formal family crests, kamawanu was theatre-born branding; a witty, wearable declaration of cool. Much like a modern slogan tee, it carried both meaning and affiliation, all in a stylized three-part image. Seen in prints and on actual garments, the pattern tells us just how sophisticated and layered Edo-period “merch” could be.
What may look like elegant patterning or theatrical flair was, in fact, an early form of visual branding layered with puns, affiliations, and coded messages. The kamawanu crest and actor-inspired kimono patterns remind us that the lines between stage and street, art and commerce, have long been blurred. Edo-period fans weren’t just watching kabuki; they were participating in it. In this light, the floating world wasn’t so far from our own: stylish, expressive, and deeply shaped by the culture of celebrity.
I’ve decided to try something I’ve never done before: sewing my own kimono. As someone deeply interested in the history and cultural meaning of kimono, this is more than just a sewing projec; it’s a way to explore the garment from the inside out, one stitch at a time.
I’ll be documenting the process here as I go: from choosing the fabric to figuring out the pattern, cutting, sewing, and (hopefully!) wearing the final result. Along the way, I’ll reflect on what I’m learning; not just technically, but also in terms of material culture and my own relationship with the kimono.
Thankfully, I’m not doing this entirely alone. I’m getting some wonderful guidance from my friend Maria, the creative mind behind Yohgara Kimono, whose insights and experience have already been incredibly helpful.
This post will be updated regularly, so feel free to check back or follow along as the project unfolds 🙂
Sewing Kimono (Part 1): The Fabric
Maria and I went to Mahler.Stoffein Hamburg just to check out the shop with no specific plans. I think I had been there once before, back when I studied fashion design at ESMOD Berlin in 2008. They’ve always had a solid selection and reasonable prices, and this visit was no exception.
I wasn’t looking for fabric for a kimono that day. But then I saw it: a lightweight cotton that immediately caught my eye. Something about the colour, the way it draped, the subtle texture – it was love at first sight! I didn’t hesitate, and with the help of Maria’s calculations, I bought 4 meters of the 1.45m wide fabric.
And just like that, my kimono sewing journey began.
When thinking of the Coming-of-Age Day in Japan, one image often comes to mind: young women dressed in striking, long-sleeved kimono known as furisode. Worn to mark the transition into adulthood, these colourful garments are rich in tradition and also full of personal and cultural meaning. But not all furisode look the same. At the 2024 Yokimono Japanese Market in London, we presented two very different styles: one based on historical dress from the Edo period, and one showing how the furisode is worn today. This article takes a closer look at both styles, explores the symbolism behind their patterns, and considers how the furisode continues to evolve while preserving its role in Japanese rites of passage.
This article is 1,000 words long. 🕒 Estimated reading time: 5 minutes.
The furisode (振袖) is a type of formal kimono distinguished by its long, flowing sleeves ranging from 85 to 114 cm in length. The name literally translates to “swinging sleeves,” which sway elegantly with the wearer’s movements.
Historically, furisode were worn by young, unmarried women, signaling both youth and availability for marriage. The long sleeves were believed to make a woman appear more graceful and attractive.
After marriage, it was customary to“shorten the sleeves” either by literally cutting them or having the garment altered by a tailor to convert the furisode into a tomesode (留袖), a formal kimono for married women, which has shorter, more restrained sleeves. This physical alteration marked a symbolic transition from maidenhood to matrimony.
Sleeve lengths vary by occasion: longest for bridal wear (left), medium for Coming-of-Age Day (center), and shorter for graduation (right).Image source: http://aikah.com.
Today, they are most commonly associated with the Coming-of-Age Day (成人の日 / Seijin no Hi), a national holiday in Japan that celebrates young people turning 18 years old, which is, since 2022, the official age of adulthood. These garments are often elaborately decorated with seasonal or auspicious motifs, each carrying symbolic meaning.
Furisode Styles Now and Then
For the demonstration at the Yokimono Japanese Market, we showcased two contrasting styles of furisode:
A historical Edo-period style, emphasizing traditional elegance and formal symbolism
A contemporary adaptation, showing how the furisode is worn today with practical adjustments and personal flair
The Historical Style: Formal Elegance
Yui wore a furisode styled in the fashion of the Edo period (1603–1868), a time when clothing adhered to strict codes that reflected social status, age, and marital status. The kimono she wore was richly decorated with a variety of auspicious motifs, each symbolising positive qualities or well-wishes for the wearer:
Chrysanthemum (菊, kiku) – A symbol of longevity and a floral emblem associated with the Imperial family
The “Three Friends of Winter” (松竹梅, shōchikubai) – Plum, bamboo, and pine; a classic trio in East Asian art representing resilience, integrity, and perseverance during hardship
Crane (鶴, tsuru) – A revered creature in Japanese folklore, symbolizing good fortune, fidelity, and long life
The hem of this kimono was left to trail on the floor, a style considered highly formal and luxurious. In the Edo period, this trailing hem was typical for young women of higher social rank attending important occasions. Today, such styling is rarely seen outside of stage performances or ceremonial roles, such as those of geiko and maiko, where traditional dress is preserved as part of cultural heritage.
The Contemporary Style: Practical and Personal
In contrast to the traditional Edo-period ensemble, Chizu wore a more contemporary interpretation of the furisode, illustrating how modern wearers adapt this formal garment to suit current lifestyles and practical needs. While the furisode remains a symbol of youth and celebration, today’s wearers often choose more accessible ways of styling it.
One key adaptation was the use of the o-hashoritechnique, where excess fabric at the hem is folded and tucked to create a clean, ankle-length silhouette. This method makes the kimono easier to walk in and helps prevent the fabric from dragging on the ground; an important consideration for modern-day mobility and comfort.
A particularly meaningful element of this outfit was the furisode itself. This kimono originally belonged to Sonoe Sugawara, owner of Furuki Yokimono Vintage and host of the Yokimono Market, who wore it at her own Coming-of-Age ceremony in 1995. It had been gifted to her by her grandmother and has been carefully preserved ever since.
Wearing this heirloom piece today highlights how kimono are not only fashion garments but also carriers of family history, memory, and generational continuity.
The Art of the Obi
No kimono is complete without the obi, a wide sash tied in the back. Tying the obi is both a technical skill and an art form, often requiring assistance due to the weight, length, and complexity of the knot.
The obi is often the most expensive part of a kimono outfit, as it must be stiff enough to hold elaborate shapes and usually features intricate weaving or embroidery. During the demonstration, Yuko showcased two different obi knots:
A formal structured knot worn by Yui matching the grandeur of her historical furisode
A rose-shaped obi knot worn by Chizu symbolic of blossoming youth and individuality
Secured with hidden cords and accessories, these knots balance visual beauty with structural durability meant to stay in place all day.
Watch the Presentation
🎥 See both styles brought to life in our full video recording below:
Our live demonstration at Yokimono Japanese Market highlighted not only the stunning beauty of furisode, but also the interplay of tradition and transformation that makes kimono culture so rich and enduring.
Whether worn in classical elegance or reimagined through a modern lens, the furisode remains a powerful expression of coming of age, identity, and celebration in Japan.
When attending a university graduation ceremony in Japan, you’ll likely see young women dressed in a traditional garment called the hakama; a wide, pleated lower garment worn over a kimono. While today it’s closely associated with academic achievement and coming of age, the hakama was originally a piece of clothing worn only by men. So how did it become a symbol of female empowerment and education? In this article, we explore the fascinating journey of the hakama, from its roots in samurai culture to its enduring role in Japanese school traditions and graduation ceremonies.
This article is 1,850 words long. 🕒 Estimated reading time: 8 minutes.
Education Reform and the Rise of the Japanese Schoolgirl
During the Meiji era (1868–1912), Japan underwent a period of intense modernisation and nation-building. Determined to compete with the Western powers and shed its feudal image, the country launched sweeping reforms across all areas of society, from government and industry to infrastructure and education. Central to this transformation was the creation of a strong, literate, and disciplined population capable of supporting a modern state. Education, therefore, became one of the most important tools for shaping Japan’s future.
While education had long been available to boys of samurai and merchant families, the Meiji government now sought to create a national, standardized school system modeled in part on European systems. The 1872 Education System Order (gakusei, 学制) laid the foundation for universal education, and by the 1880s and 90s, the number of schools, and students, was growing rapidly.
Initially, girls’ education lagged behind. Early on, many believed that education for women should be limited to moral instruction and domestic skills to prepare them for their roles as ‘good wives, wise mothers’ (ryōsai kenbo, 良妻賢母). However, as the state increasingly realised the broader importance of women in shaping the home and, by extension, the nation, more formal academic opportunities opened up for girls.
But alongside these ideological changes came a very practical issue: what should female students wear to school? The traditional kimono, while elegant, was considered by some as unsuited to the demands of the classroom. Long sleeves got in the way of writing or handling materials, and the layered fabric restricted movement, especially during increasingly popular activities like group gymnastics or walking commutes to school.
Educators and reformers began looking for a uniform that offered both mobility and modesty. The goal was to find clothing that allowed young women to participate fully in a modern education without appearing inappropriate or overly ‘Westernised’. This opened the door for the hakama, a garment that would soon become the visual hallmark of the educated, forward-looking Japanese schoolgirl.
From Samurai Uniform to Student Dress: How the Hakama Was Reimagined
The solution came in the form of a garment previously reserved for men: the hakama. Traditionally worn by samurai, Shinto priests, and other men of status, the hakama was a symbol of formality, discipline, and masculinity. As women entered the public sphere through education, reformers and educators sought a school uniform that would both reflect the spirit of modern learning and accommodate the practical demands of daily school life.
A young Okuma Shigenobu who would later become prime minister of Japan (1868). Source: Wikimedia.
Rather than simply adopting Western school uniforms, which were gaining popularity at the time, Japan developed its own hybrid style. The hakama was adapted specifically for female students by reworking the traditional men’s trouser-style version (umanori hakama, 馬乗り袴) into a wider, skirt-like variation. This new form offered greater freedom of movement, making it suitable not just for sitting in class or walking to school, but also for participating in physical education.
At the same time, the skirted hakama was seen as preserving a sense of feminine decorum. It allowed girls to move more freely than a formal kimono would permit, without crossing the gender boundaries associated with wearing trousers. Proponents argued that this combination struck the right balance between modern utility and traditional modesty.
By 1898, this modified version of the hakama had become a standard uniform at many girls’ schools, particularly elite and state-sponsored institutions such as the Women’s Higher Normal School (女子高等師範学校), now Ochanomizu University (お茶の水女子大学), in Tokyo. The ensemble typically included a long-sleeved furisode kimono in a bold pattern, a white or light-colored blouse with a stand-up collar (sometimes with Western-style influences), and lace-up boots or leather shoes; an outfit that visually merged Japanese tradition with modern sensibilities.
A group of female students and their teachers during the Women’s Higher Normal School establishment in 1875. Source: Ochanomizu University‘s website.
This new school uniform became a powerful visual symbol of progress, self-discipline, and national pride. It represented a forward-thinking generation of young women who were being educated not just for domestic life, but also as contributors to a rapidly modernising Japan. And for the students themselves, wearing the hakama was more than a dress code; it was a badge of honor, marking them as part of a new social vanguard.
Manga, Modern Girls, and the Legacy of Haikara-san
A well-known example of the hakama look in popular culture is the shōjo manga Haikara-San: Here Comes Miss Modern (Haikara-san ga Tōru; はいからさんが通る) by Waki Yamato, serialised between 1975 and 1977. Set in Tokyo during the early 20th century, the story follows spirited and headstrong schoolgirl Benio Hanamura, who refuses to conform to the societal expectations of her time.
Cover picture of はいからさんが通る (1975-77) by Waki Yamato.
Panel on page 6 of はいからさんが通る (1975-77) by Waki Yamato.
Benio loves Western fashion, reads novels, rides horses and bicycles, fences, and dreams of becoming a journalist rather than marrying young, as her family expects. Her iconic outfit, a long-sleeved furisode kimono with a bold yabane (矢羽, arrow-feather) pattern symbolising determination, paired with a wide hakama, lace-up boots, and long flowing hair tied with a large ribbon, perfectly captures the spirit of the haikara movement. Benio was not just a character; she became a visual icon and role model for generations of readers drawn to her image of modern, independent womanhood.
Benio’s look also reflects broader societal changes taking place at the time. The bicycle, a potent symbol of mobility and independence in early 20th-century Japan, had become a popular means of transportation among young women. In fact, Benio is famously introduced in the second scene of Haikara-san ga Tōru riding her bicycle through the streets of Tokyo—wind in her hair, hakama flowing—visually establishing her as a modern, active heroine from the start. The wide pleats of the hakama allowed for comfort, dignity, and freedom of movement. Paired with lace-up boots, Benio’s outfit wasn’t just stylish; it was practical and emblematic of a generation of women embracing education, autonomy, and a new visual language of modern femininity.
The Hakama Today: Tradition, Empowerment, and Graduation Style
Today, this symbolism is still alive, especially during sotsugyō-shiki (卒業式), the Japanese university graduation ceremony. For many young women, choosing to wear the traditional hakama-and-kimono combination on this day is more than a nod to the past; it is a meaningful, personal statement. The outfit represents a milestone marking not only academic achievement but also a further step into adulthood and a new chapter in life.
A young woman during her university graduation ceremony. Source: Shika Chen on Unsplash.
The graduation hakama is often worn with a brightly colored long-sleeved furisode kimono, a style once associated with unmarried women and formal occasions. Popular motifs include plum blossoms, cranes, or geometric patterns like yabane, all of which carry auspicious meanings. The garments are usually rented from specialty shops that offer styling, dressing, and photography packages specifically for the big day.
Wearing the hakama today allows graduates to visually connect with a lineage of educated women before them. It recalls the pioneering students of the Meiji and Taishō eras who broke social barriers and helped redefine the role of women in Japanese society. By stepping into this attire, contemporary graduates symbolically align themselves with that spirit of courage, discipline, and forward momentum.
Even outside of formal ceremonies, the hakama continues to appear in cultural contexts; from coming-of-age photoshoots and weddings to cosplay and historical reenactments. While its meanings have diversified, its association with education, empowerment, and female agency remains particularly strong. The hakama is therefore not just a relic of school uniforms past; it’s a living garment that still speaks volumes about identity, ambition, and the ongoing dialogue between tradition and change.
It just recently occured to me that I never talked about my appearance on TV Tokyo’s well-known show Why Did YOU Come to Japan? (YOUは何しに日本へ？) on this blog. I’m not quite sure what kept me from writing about it before, but here is me aiming to change that.
This article is 720 words long. 🕒 Estimated reading time: 4 minutes.
For those unfamiliar with the show, Why Did YOU Come to Japan?follows the journeys of international visitors to Japan, often starting with spontaneous interviews at the airport. The programme’s crew approaches travelers to ask about their plans, hoping to uncover unique and meaningful stories.
I was one such traveler, approached by the crew at Kansai Airport in February 2018, just as I was arriving for a six-month stay to conduct PhD fieldwork. The crew followed me over three full days, capturing glimpses of my daily life as a researcher in Japan. While many scenes didn’t make the final cut, the broadcast focused on my research visit to the shop MIYABI in Kitakyushu.
Miyabi Ikeda, the owner of kimono shop MIYABI.
Me during an interview with Miyabi-san.
The shop MIYABI is renowned in Kitakyushu as a popular destination for the local Seijin-Shiki (成人式), or Coming-of-Age Ceremony. This annual event celebrates young adults reaching the age of then 20, now 18, marking their transition to adulthood. Kitakyushu’s ceremony, in particular, is famous across Japan for its attendees’ incredibly inventive attire—each year, many invest a significant amount into crafting unforgettable outfits that reflect personal style and hometown pride.
A female attendee of Kitakyushu’s coming-of-age ceremony in 2015.
A male attendee of Kitakyushu’s coming-of-age ceremony in 2016.
Although I didn’t get to attend the ceremony itself or interview the young adults firsthand, my visit to MIYABI provided valuable insight into these unique local customs. The shop’s owner, Miyabi Ikeda, shared stories of her experiences and the elaborate preparations that go into helping customers create statement outfits for this important day. Through her perspective, I gained a deeper appreciation for the cultural significance and creativity surrounding Kitakyushu’s Coming-of-Age Ceremony.
The distinctive styles of the hade hakama (派手袴) for men and oiran kitsuke (花魁着け) for women served as key inspirations for Chapter 6 of my PhD dissertation, Challenging Normative Gender Ideals? Alternative Forms of Coming-of-Age Dress. In this chapter, I examine how these bold styles transcend conventional norms to allow unique expressions of identity. For those interested, my full dissertation can be accessed here: Becke, Carolin (2022) Negotiating Gendered Identities Through Dress: Kimono at the Coming-of-age Day in Contemporary Japan.
A summary of the TV episode discussing these styles is also available in Japanese on the programme’s website: Why Did YOU Come to Japan? – Episode 180730. For a closer look at MIYABI’s most recent creations, I recommend following their Instagram account: @miyabi_kokura.
Reflecting on this experience, I’m reminded of how unexpected encounters can shape and enrich our journeys in ways we don’t anticipate. Being part of Why Did YOU Come to Japan? gave me a unique opportunity to share my research with a broader audience and connect with Japan from a new perspective. It captured not only the purpose of my fieldwork but also the warmth and curiosity that I encountered throughout my time there. I hope this glimpse into my journey offers you some insight into the fascinating intersections of research, culture, and the unexpected surprises that make travel so rewarding.
Woodblock prints known as ukiyo-e (浮世絵, “pictures of the floating world”) offer a vivid glimpse into the everyday pleasures and cultural life of Edo-period Japan. Far from being elite art, these prints reflected the tastes and pastimes of the emerging merchant class; urban dwellers who, despite their low social status, became the driving force behind a flourishing world of fashion, performance, and entertainment. This article explores how ukiyo-e captured the spirit of the so-called “floating world” and the lives of its most iconic figures.
This article is 810 words long. 🕒 Estimated reading time: 4–5 minutes.
Woodblock prints called ukiyo-e became a popular art form during Japan’s Edo period (1603-1868). Their depictions were closely tied to the cultural practices cultivated by chōnin (町人), members of the merchant class, who emerged as the patreons of Edo’s urban entertainment and culture.
While the shogunate formed the politicial authority of the time, the merchant class became more and more dominant in influencing urban culture in the thriving economic centres of Edo (former Tokyo), Osaka and Kyoto. This created quite a bit of tension, however; the social hierarchy envisioned by the shogunate was based on Confucian values and cast merchants as part of the lowest class. This was based on the assumption that merchants did neither use mind (like scholars) nor muscles (like farmers and artisants) to produce something of ‘value’ but were rather, in their ‘excessive accumulation of wealth’, a threat and disturbance to the social order.
‘The Prosperty of the Four Classes’, Utagawa Kunisai, 1869.
This low, social position was contrasted with the growing financial means and, therefore, cultural influence which the chōnin managed to accumulate during the course of the 17th century. While the shogunate followed rationalistic Neo-Confucian principles, the merchant class was guided by the hedonistic celebration of the ‘floating world’ (浮世, ukiyo). This term describes the transient, unreliable world into which one is born into but aims to escape through Buddhist practices such as meditation and abstinence. Edo’s merchants turned this believe on it’s head not by resisting but rather celebrating and seeking out everyday forms of pleasure and entertainment.
Ukiyo-e woodblock prints became a means to visually capture the varied amusements of the ‘floating world’. Special occassions such as appreciating the seasonal flowers in a nearby temple garden were equally depicted as were the occassional visit to a local sentō (銭湯, bathing house). Travel scenes and popular spots aimed to inspire touristic journeys while well-known scenes from folk tales and history served as everyday entertainment. In terms of human subjects, beautiful and stylish men and women, represented most commonly by kabuki actors and courtesans, were equally among the favoured subjects ofukiyo-e artists. Being clad in the latest fashion and/or showing off their personal style, actors and courtesans became trend setters for dress and design through these easily distributed prints.
‘A Man and Two Women at a Teahouse at Wada no Ura Overlooking the Sea’, Harunobu Suzuki, 1750s.
Another popular but slightly less often discussed cultural figure was the cha-ya musume (茶屋娘, literally ‘teahouse daugther’). Having a tea and some snacks at a cha-ya was a popular leisure activity. While these establishments were often run by elderly couples, the tactic to employ young, attractive women to serve tea and have a bit of a chat with customers quickly became a marketing strategy.
A quite famous cha-ya musume was Naniwaya Okita (難波屋, born 1778), who was a female employee of a cha-ya located close to the famous Buddhist temple Sensō-ji. She became one of the favourite subjects of ukiyo-e artist Kitagawa Utamaro, whom he enshrined as one of the ‘three beauties of the present day’ in a print of the same name. Due to the fame she gained through the prints, Okita became the ‘poster girl’ of the shop, with some customers believed to travel far and white for a glimpse of this fair young lady.
‘Naniwaya Okita’, Kitagawa Utamaro, 1793.
‘Three Beauties of the Present Day’, Kitagawa Utamaro,1792–93.
By studying ukiyo-e, we can learn a lot about the popular culture which was built on the hedonistic practices and preferences of the urban working classes of Edo Japan. With their love for entertainemt and fun, they were an annoyance to the ruling shogunate, but created a culture which many of us still can relate to today.
At the intersection of East and West, tradition and innovation, the Taishō period (1912–1926) saw the emergence of bold new kimono styles that reflected Japan’s rapidly changing society. Known as Taishō Roman, this aesthetic blended romantic ideals, Western influences, and a playful reinterpretation of traditional dress. In this article, I revisit a demonstration I co-hosted with Sonoe Sugawara of Furuki Yo-Kimono Vintage, where we introduced the unique look of the Taishō Roman schoolgirl, complete with high-collared blouses, red hakama, and vibrant, eye-catching kimono.
This article is 860 words long. 🕒 Estimated reading time: 4–5 minutes.
At the Yokimono Japanese Christmas Market in December 2022, I collaborated with my good friend Sonoe Sugawara of Furuki Yo-Kimono Vintage on a demonstration and talk of Taisho period kimono styles. This turbulent era gave birth to some eclectic kimono styles which were based on a new approach towards Japanese and Western modes of dress. One of the styles we introduced was the Taisho Roman (大正ロマン) style of female students.
Sonoe demonstrated how to recreate the so-called ‘Taisho Roman‘ style, also known as the hai-kara style, with a 1920s silver and purple vintage kimono and red hakama from her shop.
In general, Taisho Roman (大正浪漫, or 大正ロマン) refers to the ideals of romanticism which were expressed by a quirky reinterpretation of traditional culture during this time. Kimono of this decade often featured flowing, asymmetrical designs, with playful and whimsical motifs such as flowers, birds, and butterflies. It was also common to see the use of luxurious fabrics such as silk and satin, and the incorporation of Western-style elements such as lace and embroidery. The Taisho Roman kimono style became known for its bright colours and bold, graphic patterns such as the yabane (矢羽, arrow feathers) pattern.
Yabane pattern in purple. Image Source: nippon.com
The word hai-kara (ハイカラー) derives from the word ‘high collar’ on the other hand and refers to the, for Japanese eyes, unusual collar style of shirts of this time. Victorian-style blouses became popular with young Japanese women of the middle class who wore these as undergarments, with the collar and cuffs peaking out under the kimono. The term also more generally meant ‘to dress in the latest western fashion‘ which demonstrates the fashion-forward way of thinking of these young women.
Besides blouses, women started to adopt hakama which were previously exclusively reserved for men. With more women entering education, female students were in need of a uniform which allowed them to participate in all school activities on the same level as the boys. Debates on movement and the body resulted in the decision to modify men‘s hakama trousers by turning them into hakama skirts for young women.
Young women wearing a short skirt, umbrella and lace shoes. Source unknown.
This hakama style was considered to allow for unrestricted movements of the hip and legs. This was particular important in a time when physical education became part of the school curriculum, and sports of all kinds became popular leisure activities. Shoes also played a part in this, with the traditional sandal footwear of geta being replaced by lace shoes and boots. The new mode of transportation, the bicycle, became favoured and later representative of the forward-thinking young men and women who were considered to built a bright future for the Japanese nation.
Yumeji Takehisa (竹久夢二), ‘Tennis’ (post-1900s).
Female student wearing a meisen kimono and haori combined with a women‘s hakama. Source unknown.
Another popular reference of the style is the manga Haikara-San: Here Comes Miss Modern (はいからさんが通る haikara-san ga tōru, 1975-77) by Waki Yamato. The manga that tells the story of Benio Hanamura, a young woman living in Tokyo in the 20th century. Benio is laballed as a ‘tomboy‘ with a big interest in Western culture and fashion. This sets her apart from and often creates a conflict with the more conservative Japanese women of her time. As a female student, she often wears a yabane-patterned furisode kimono and hakama combination as depicted below.
Cover picture of はいからさんが通る (1975-77) by Waki Yamato.
Panel on page 6 of はいからさんが通る (1975-77) by Waki Yamato.
Overall, the Taisho Roman kimono style was a reflection of the era’s fascination with modernity, individualism, and self-expression, and represented a departure from the more rigid and feminine conservative styles that had come before it.
This online public lecture titled ‘Kimono (and) Fashion in Japan’ is part of the Cardiff-Japanese Lecture Series which aims to explore and understand aspects of language learning for those studying Japanese language and culture at Cardiff University, as well as various learners, teachers and researchers with an interest in Japan. The event is funded by the Japan Foundation, London.
Abstract Both inside and outside of Japan, kimono is commonly framed as the national costume of Japan, bestowing the garment with notions of tradition and stability. However, ever since the establishment of a widespread fashion system in the Edo period (1603-1868), kimono was worn in different ways to communicate individual and social characteristics such as status, occupation, gender and taste.
This talk sheds some light on the fashionable influences on the garment by examining the following questions; how was kimono marketed by members of the merchant class, who became affluent during the Edo period? In which way did the moga (モガ, ‘modern girls’) of the Taisho period (1912-1926) wear the garment? How is the retro style, which gained prominence due to magazines such as Kimono Hime (Shōdensha, 2003-2018) and Kimono Anne (TAC Shuppan, 2019-), connected to the popularity of kimono as an everyday garment in recent decades?
This thesis is a study of kimono in contemporary Japan. It builds on and extends the literature on kimono by evaluating the garment’s role at the coming-of-age day. The coming-of-age day is a significant celebration aiming to inspire young women and men to become ‘good and upright adult citizen[s]‘ (Hendry 1981: 206). Being of immense importance to the construction of Japanese identity and culture, this thesis aims to explore how normative ideas, values and meanings surrounding coming-of-age dress are (re)framed in a contemporary setting.
On May 6th, I spoke about my research on mental wellbeing and kimono at the Fashion Objects and the Changing Landscape of Fashion conference which was part of the Fashion Festival Debrecen. This research is inspired by a short, investigative article I wrote for the ‘Collecting Covid-19’ project initiated by the Centre for Digital Anthropology at University College London which encouraged scholars to collect responses to the unfolding covid-19 pandemic in early 2020.
During this time, I noticed a particular activeness of some of the kimono designers and enthusiasts I follow on Instagram; while life as we know it was drastically changing, members of the community reached towards kimono to provide them with a sense of stability and belonging in these challenging times. Imaginative challenges and exercises were set up to engage each other in creative endeavours, with individuals sharing images of affectionately coordinated kimono outfits which incorporated some of their newly learned kitsuke (kimono dressing) skills. I became fascinated by the ways in which the community took care of their mental health through an engagement with the garment, and decided to conduct some further research into the topic.
Besides the presentation at the conference, I am currently preparing a manuscript summarising my findings which I hope will become a published journal article titled ‘Sustaining Wellbeing through Kimono: Responses from the kimono fashion network to the covid-19 pandemic’.
DR CAROLIN BECKE 