Kimono lessons

February 14, 2022 by Jenn Leave a comment

You look at the title of this post and think, “What are kimono lessons? What does that even mean?” Well, did you know most Japanese people don’t know how to properly wear a kimono? That’s where kimono lessons come in to play.

My first night in Japan, I wandered the streets of Tokyo in the middle of a summer festival—one of the only times you will see young people wearing traditional Japanese clothing. I thought, “Wow, so people really dress like this every day!” Over the next few weeks, as I watched the swaths of businessmen heading to work wearing identical penguin suits, I slowly awoke from my illusion.

Japanese salarymen walking down the street — *Japanese “salarymen” still mostly wear formal suits to work. (Women have only somewhat more flexibility.)*

You will sometimes see Japanese people (almost exclusively women, nowadays) wear kimono for certain formal events, like weddings or coming-of-age day. However, most people shell out hundreds of dollars to have a professional dress them for these formal occasions. (This price also includes hair and make-up, but still. Quite expensive.)

A kimono involves many layers and ropes tied together that must perfectly balance not suffocating you and not falling apart throughout the day. Tying an extremely intricate obi belt is especially challenging. For events that only occur a handful of times in your life, who would bother learning how to put a kimono on? Well, those interested take kimono lessons.

Kimono lessons: what and why

What’s a kimono lesson like? Basically, old Japanese ladies teaching the youngsters of today how to wear traditional clothing. More specifically, you and the other students meet once a week for an hour and a half, in a room full of full-length mirrors, and the teacher shows you how to put on and tie each layer of the kimono on yourself.

A few months into my own lessons and I had started to understand why no one bothers to learn how to wear kimono anymore—it takes a long time to tie everything together, and when done poorly, the ropes dig into your skin and leave you with bruises the next day. Even done well, it just doesn’t quite compare to the comfort of sweats and a t-shirt…

Actually, most students in my class said they only decided to attend kimono lessons in order to wear their old family kimonos, passed down from mothers and grandmothers. I can understand the sentiment. Old kimono are beautiful, hand-crafted heirlooms; what a shame to have them spend decades gathering dust in a closet. When I shocked my mother-in-law by saying I would attend kimono lessons, she immediately took me to where she stored the family kimonos. “No one else in our family knows how to put them on. Please take them!”

Japanese casual kimono worn during a summer festival — *Even casual kimono are so beautiful! But those ribbons? They’re all premade.*

The one exception to all this: yukata, the most casual type of kimono. Japanese people wear simple yukata in traditional Japanese hotels, and festive colorful ones during summer festivals. However, for these simplified yukatas, you just wrap them around like a bathrobe and stick the premade bow into the belt. Nothing compared to the effort of a formal kimono. And with kimono lessons, you can learn how to tie the bows into creative shapes!

Why no one wears kimono

Many people nowadays think the tradition of kimono will die out in the near future. Why? For several reasons.

1. Cost. Formal kimono made not only cost several hundred (or thousand) dollars to purchase, they are also expensive to clean. Specialty cleaners will unsew all the fabric, wash it gently by hand (or put it through a specialized machine), sew it all back together, iron it flat, and wrap it in special paper to prevent wrinkles and mold. Average cost of cleaning: $50–$100 per kimono.

2. Care. Traditional kimono, in particular, require careful handling. Silk wrinkles easily, and sweat stains can be almost impossible to remove. Wool attracts bugs that will leave the fabric riddled with holes. To prevent damage, kimono must be hung overnight to dry at least once a year, folded carefully, and kept inside special cases that allow air flow but keep out moisture and bugs.

3. Rules. Kimono colors, patterns, fabric type, and accessories all must adhere to strict rules based on occasion or season. For example, you can only wear unlined kimono in June and September. You can only use accessories with gold or silver threads on very formal occasions. The number of family crests (1, 3, or 5) on the shoulders also relates to the level of formality. (See a pattern yet?) Imagine someone telling you that jeans with one hole can be worn all year but those with two holes only in May, and they must be paired with a red shirt and black shoes, but not if those shoes are made of leather… Fashion is exhausting.

A Japanese couple in wedding kimono — *Wedding kimono are some of the most elaborate and formal dress in Japan! But almost all couples opt for Western-style weddings instead.*

I guess it all comes down to whether you see kimono as an art form, or just something pretty that you wear. Most people now don’t see any point in putting in such enormous effort for “outdated” clothing.

How to take kimono lessons

If you are interested in wearing kimono, note that it takes several months of lessons. You have to be careful when choosing your school, too; most advertise free lessons, then force you to buy their products, since those purchases are how they make money. I tried to join one that turned out rather shady, and it was an extremely uncomfortable experience. Shopkeepers that sell kimono are also very pushy, something that is not at all common in Japan.

The school I joined is called Ichiru (いち瑠), and they do a great job at providing a comfortable atmosphere without pushing you ~~much~~ to buy stuff. (This is not sponsored, I just don’t want anyone else to have a bad experience like I did.) Just sign up online for the closest classroom near you. As a big chain found all over the country, the class schedules are very flexible, and you can borrow their kimono and supplies during lessons. What’s best, they hold outings and events for students to wear their kimono in public. The lessons themselves are not free though, which is probably why they don’t have that sleazy quality of other places. The teachers speak 100% in Japanese; however, you should understand the gist of what is going on even with the language barrier.

Of course, you can also find plenty of YouTube videos with instructions for how to wear kimono, but I have always found them extremely hard to follow. (Especially starting from zero experience.) Moral of the story, some things just require teachers. In-person kimono lessons also provide a great opportunity for making Japanese friends!

Japanese tea ceremony while wearing kimono — *Trying on traditional clothing can be a fun way to experience a different culture.*

Get started wearing kimono

While the current kimono industry is not something I am a fan of, I am a fan of kimono. Even if you only have a short trip to Japan, I highly recommend that you try one on. I’ve heard lots of great experiences with tours in Tokyo and Kyoto with rental kimono.

For those of you here for the long run, give lessons a try—but don’t feel bad leaving a class that you’re not comfortable with. Buying your own set also isn’t very difficult. There are secondhand kimono shops everywhere, and even Amazon has some supplies at really low prices. Just google リサイクル着物; my favorite is たんす屋. Watch out for pushy salespeople!

Let me know about your experiences with kimono, and if you have any questions about taking lessons, in the comments below. Don’t forget to subscribe for more kimono-related content.

So what do you say, fellow gaijin? Let’s keep the kimono tradition alive!

Getting a haircut in Japan

October 4, 2021 by Jenn Leave a comment

One of the last things I did before hopping on my flight to Japan was get a haircut. Part of the reason was that I didn’t want to go through the hassle of looking up salons and figuring out how to communicate with the stylists with my very basic Japanese. The other reason may have been a bit racist of me: I thought that because almost all Japanese people have straight hair, no one would know how to handle my very curly, non-Asian hair.

In reality, perms have steadily grown in popularity in Japan. Nowadays, almost half the people you meet have some kind of wave to their hair. A small percentage of Japanese people do actually have natural curls (my husband included)! Yet despite this, I have never had a truly satisfying haircut in Japan. I’ll go over a few of these experiences so perhaps other fellow curly-haired people can learn from my mistakes. Or just enjoy reading about my misfortune, take your pick.

Curly-haired American in a Japanese forest in need of a haircut — *I definitely wait too long for haircuts.*

First haircut: not bad

A couple months after arriving, I asked my coworkers if they knew any good haircut places where I can get by with English. I got a recommendation for a salon in Osaka run by a guy who had studied in California. Great, I thought, someone who speaks English AND has experience abroad! I made an appointment for the weekend, excited by my luck.

The guy was nice and talkative, and he offered coupons for first-time customers—for me, a free head massage. After getting my hair washed, I was treated to a delightful 15 minutes of relaxation. During that time, however, my hair had gotten fairly knotted up and dry; brushing it out was an absolute nightmare. So much tangling. So much frizz. “Does your hair… always do this?” he asked nervously. Maybe he really didn’t have as much experience with curly hair as I had thought… I didn’t actually say that because I’m not that mean, and the haircut itself ended up passable. So I left with a smile on my face and a thank you for his work.

Haircut, take two: fail

The next time I was in need of a haircut in Japan, I was a grad student in a new city and a tight wallet, but my Japanese had gotten good enough to be able to google salons on my own. I picked the cheapest place that was near me (because who wants to pay $80 for a simple trim?) and headed over on a weekday afternoon.

The stylist was a very friendly woman who took an interest in my life story (aka the usual “why did you come to Japan?” barrage of questions). She first sat me down and then did something I had never had a stylist try to do to me before: brush out my hair before washing it. Anyone with curly hair would shudder at the thought. “You’re… going to brush me first?” She smiled and replied with a bright, “Yes, of course!” I was so overcome with shock that I didn’t say anything. I was trying to trust her expertise. Maybe that’s just how haircuts are done in Japan, I thought weakly, averting my gaze.

And then I looked in the mirror and got all my fears confirmed. I kid you not, I looked like a lion who had just awoken from his nap. I had never seen my hair expand to such size before. The stylist also had a terrified look come over her when she saw what she had done—I don’t know if she just hadn’t noticed anything while she was brushing, or if she had been too embarrassed by her mistake to stop halfway through, but the look on her face was priceless. “L-let’s wash your hair now…” And she led me over to the basins to see if she could tame this beast she had created.

Haircut in Japan turned me into a lion — *Stunning beauty. Rawr.*

Haircut, part three: success?!

From then on, I vowed never to get a haircut in Japan again. “I go home once or twice a year… I’ll just do it then…” I thought naïvely. Eventually it got to the point that my hair had reached unmanageable lengths, so I gave up. I broke my oath and begrudgingly searched for somewhere decent that wouldn’t break the bank.

This time I was determined not to let this end in tragedy. I was firm with the stylist when she took out the brush. “Trust me, you definitely don’t want to do that dry.” (Seriously, why is this a thing here??) She begrudgingly allowed me to get my hair washed first.

The rest of the haircut went really well—until the very end when she started to blow-dry. After about a minute I told her that was enough, as I usually just air-dry my hair. She looked at me with horror. “But…! You’ll catch a cold…!” Seriously? Well, maybe she just didn’t consider wet hair a properly finished job, but my hair does not play well with blow-driers. (Picture a younger lion with bedhead.) Despite my protests, she did her best to remove any trace of moisture from my hair, and I again walked out in sullen defeat.

In conclusion

I don’t know if my hair is just impossible to manage, or if there really is some truth to my initial apprehensions of getting a haircut in a foreign country. Here’s the moral of the story. Getting a haircut in Japan means brushing, and often even cutting, your hair dry. You can’t refuse a blow-dry. And unless you’re particularly vocal about what you want, your hair stylist will not know what to do with your hair.

Anyway, I hope my curly-haired brethren have better luck out there than I have getting a haircut in Japan. Be sure to subscribe so you’ll get notified the next time I have an awkward experience, hair-related or otherwise.

Culture shocks

October 4, 2021 by Jenn Leave a comment

Considering the two countries are on opposite sides of the Earth, an American like me is sure to find many differences upon moving to Japan. It’s always funny, though, when Japanese people ask me about culture shocks. They assume I would have problems with things that actually never bothered me (or most other foreigners) in the first place.

“Was it hard getting used to chopsticks?” I’ve been using them regularly since I was eight, so no.

“It must be weird for you to take off your shoes indoors.” I have never worn shoes in the house in my life, and it’s much more hygienic this way!

“Can you eat natto?” Dude, have you ever eaten blue cheese? (I honestly can’t understand why people find natto repulsive when there are so many other foods with weirder tastes, smells, and textures…)

Anyway, the real culture shocks I’ve experienced are quite mundane, making them all the more surprising.

Smoking culture shock — *“タバコ，お吸いになりますか？”*

Restaurants

Something that I noticed on my first night was how restaurants still had smoking sections. Many aren’t separated at all, and even when they are, the smoke tends to spread throughout the restaurant anyway. I hadn’t seen someone smoke indoors since the 90s, yet here it was, still seen as a completely normal thing. (With the new legislation introduced for the Olympics, it is slowly starting to be phased out… Hopefully…) Needless to say, I very quickly picked up the kanji for “no smoking” (禁煙).

Adults playing games culture shock — *“最初はグー…”*

We’re all adults here… right?

A really funny culture shock I had was the first time I saw fully-grown, 100% adult office workers playing rock-paper-scissors in public. I had almost forgotten the existence of that game, having been so long since I last played it. Now I see adults here playing it all the time! It turns out that it’s used a lot whenever people don’t want to make a decision. A bunch of friends get together for a movie? The winner gets to choose what to watch. Only one piece of fried chicken left on the table? Rock-paper-scissors to find out who gets it. I also like how the Japanese version has a built-in tie-breaker: just “あいこでしょ” until there’s a winner.

Washing hands culture shock — *Lather, rinse, repeat.*

Personal hygiene

One difference that continues to bother me on a near-daily basis is the lack of soap in public bathrooms. And everyone always says, “Japan is so clean!” I’m not saying no one ever washes their hands, but even when I worked in Japanese offices ~~and despite having spent a significant amount of time shirking work by hiding in the bathroom~~, there was only one or two occasions where I ever saw someone use soap, let alone properly lather and rinse… My jobs have also all been in the medical field. They should know how germs work. Theoretically.

Fruit culture shock — *To peel or not to peel?*

And the prize for biggest culture shock goes to…

By far, the most memorable moment of culture shock I’ve had in Japan is… also probably the dullest one.

So, some people like to cut off the skin from their apples or peaches, while some leave them on. It’s all preference, right? I personally eat most things with the skin on because my mom always said it was nutritious (I’m actually just way too lazy to peel things). When I got to Japan, I was somewhat surprised to find that no one leaves the skin on anything. During a business trip abroad, my coworker literally said this about getting an apple on the plane for lunch: “It wasn’t even cut up or anything. I looked around and saw people biting chunks out of their apple, skin and all! Like animals!”

It’s not just fruits though. People here peel all kinds of vegetables—potatoes, carrots, asparagus—and rarely eat the skin on fish. The one example that really got me was when we visited my husband’s grandparents for the first time. Their prefecture is known for fruit, so they had bought us a bunch of expensive delicacies (see: fruit prices in Japan) to enjoy together. Out came the grapes. Right as I was about to pop one in my mouth, I hear a gasp—and look around to see everyone staring in horror at me as they all peeled their grapes.

I had no idea at the time, but it turns out that some Japanese grape varieties are bigger and sweeter than the ones I was used to, with a tough outer skin that you are supposed to peel away before eating.

Sometimes, it’s the little mundane surprises during our time abroad that stick out the most. What kind of culture shocks have you had in Japan?

This doesn’t come close to covering all my funny experiences, so stay tuned for more! Be sure to subscribe so you’ll get notified the next time I write about culture shocks in Japan.