My name is Sue Castner and I received my first kimono when I was 12 years old. I hope this page gives you an appreciation for these wearable works of art. Kimono Through the Four Seasons
A long time ago in a land far away, the kimono was born. We may never know exactly when, where or how. We DO know that there are examples of Japanese textiles dating back to the Asuka Period (552-645 AD). And whi
le all kimono have essentially been made the same way for thousands of years, that’s where their predictably ends. Every kimono is made with a single role of fabric about 15 inches wide and 13 yards long; longer if a long-sleeved furisode is to be the final garment; longer still if it is to be a geisha’s garment. A single roll of fabric can represent every season and every stage in a person’s life with the tiniest change in color, fabric, motif, and lining. The custom of koromogae – changing out your summer kimono for your winter ones - can be seen in modern day Japan as the elevator girls in upscale department and even grocery stores automatically switch from linen to wool suits at precisely the same time, regardless of temperature. Yet with kimono in Japan it is not as simple as “no wearing white after Labor Day.”
As one who has worn kimono, I can attest to the difficulties of donning layer after layer of silk all held together by a literally breathtaking obi. I can understand why such a cumbersome costume would be all but abandoned even in its honored position as the most clearly identifiable aspect of Japanese culture. But were you to walk through the Ginza today and see a woman dressed in traditional kimono, you couldn’t help but stop. Even the most jaded businessman would take notice as he hurried to his next appointment. The chatty Shibuya girl with her white-blonde hair and platform go-go boots would turn away from her cell phone and gaze admiringly as such a woman walked by. When wearing kimono, the combinations of color and weave and embroidery are specifically dictated yet they flow seamlessly. Russet maple leaves adorn tomesode in October while pink wisteria can be found from head to toe on furisode in April. The total picture reflects attention to the tiniest change in nature and a true appreciation of the beauty therein. Nothing else reflects the changing of the seasons more than the kimono. Kimono literally means “to wear a thing.” These things are each a work of wearable art. Artisans toiled over vegetable dyes and rice paste, gold leaf outlines and tiny knots. The wearer painstakingly chose colors and themes, often adding just the right touch of embellishment in a tiny bit of gold thread couching. Ancient family crests were meticulously hand embroidered. Nothing was left to chance. While some kimono are now mass produced, the pieces I care for are each one-of-a-kind. I don’t believe I “own” them; I am their temporary caregiver and they will move on after I am gone. In viewing these garments, you may want to keep in mind the notion of katami. A katami is a gift, a keepsake, a memento of a loved one who has passed away. Receiving a garment to remember a loved one is a most precious gift as it is believed that the spirit of the person lives on in their garments. Try to imagine the spirit of the women who wore these kimono – to their own wedding. To a tea ceremony. On a bright spring morning or when feeling the slight chill in the air as summer flirts with autumn. Their spirit is there. I will try to give you a brief primer in types of fabric, dyeing techniques, and styles in these garments but please understand that we are only scratching the surface. I know enough to know that I know nothing so please bear with me.
