Tuesday, January 13--Dress Like a Local

I now understand why kimonos have fallen out of favor as daily attire for Japanese women. It takes way too long to get dressed, and I’m not convinced it is something you could do by yourself. Jenny and I got to dress in kimonos today during a class offered by the base. The instructor brought all of the paraphernalia we would need and basically dressed us like we were children.

First we had to take off our shoes and socks and put on special socks that reminded me of camels’ hooves. They were split at the toe into two sections, like mittens for your feet—your big toe goes in one section and the other four toes go in the larger part. Then the instructor did up the hook and eye closures in the back to keep the socks on our feet (they are not knit like normal socks, so they do not conform to your foot).

Next came the “underwear” layer, which was a plain, muslin-colored kimono. Even though the very edge of the neckline is all that will be seen of this layer, it must be properly arranged because you’ll never get to it to fix it once you start adding other layers. All layers of the kimono must be lapped the same direction, left over right (they lap it right over left when they dress your body for your funeral). The back of the kimono must also be pulled away from the nape of the neck. This part of the anatomy is considered sexy, and since it is just about the only skin visible when wearing a kimono, it’s important not to overlook this detail. Once it was all arranged just so, the underwear layer was tied tightly at the waist with a plain cord.

The instructor then dressed us in the actual kimono, and explained that the fabric, colors, and decorations are all indicators of the importance of the occasion and the wearer’s status. Remarkably, there was a kimono long enough for me in the teacher’s collection, and she carefully arranged it to land just at my ankles. She used another plain cord tied at my waist to hold everything in place.

The obi came next, and covered the cord holding the kimono together. A shaped board was stuffed into the front of the obi to make our profile appear as flat as possible—the ideal Japanese figure has no bust and no hips. The obi is also symbolic, showing wealth by its color and pattern, and marital status by the way it is tied. Married women only wear a simple box-style knot, but single women have more elegant choices like bows and butterflies (I got to have a bow today since we were dressing to look elegant for photos). The knot of the obi is in the back, making this the part of getting dressed I’m not sure you could manage alone. In fact, many single women these days book an appointment at a kimono shop to get assistance if they are planning to wear a kimono for a special occasion. A silk scarf gets tied over top of the obi, and a silk cord is added on top of that. The nice thing about all of these accessories is that none has to color- coordinate with the kimono—you could get dressed in the dark and no one would complain that your colors don’t match. Once everything was all wrapped and tied, it was difficult to take a deep breath, much less bend over.

The final touch was a pair of slippery, ill-fitting, wedge-heeled flip flops, which explains why the women I’ve seen around town in traditional dress move so awkwardly. I was a little disappointed to find out the instructor was not going to put our hair up in a traditional style for the photos, but nevertheless I tottered over to have my picture taken, posing gamely with an antique-looking fan and umbrella. It was fun to dress up in the local style, and now that I know what is involved, I have a greater appreciation for the graceful beauty of a Japanese woman in a kimono.