Furisode Bliss

I’m somewhat sure that I can speak for Blossom in this regard, but I… am… in… love…

Our long awaited furisodes have arrived. We worked hard for these – we worked hard for the money to buy these, we worked hard to choose them, we worked hard to plan for accessories for them and they have finally arrived.

These are vintage, which to me initially brought a gasp to my throat as I opened them and touched mine for the first time. I’ll not forget that feeling of silk against my palm, it’s like touching the breeze… They were beautiful, slightly marred, but beautiful nonetheless. Blossom’s was made during the mid Showa period (1926-1989), and has really beautiful dyeing that reminds me of a painted piece of art. It’s also sweet, pink and girly, like her.

I have no idea when mine was made, though the side I bought it from listed it as ‘quite old’. However, I doubt that this was made relatively recently like ten years ago – unless the mouldy-monster has had a field day spraying the inside lining of my furisode with its brown goo. Still, the thought of touching a piece of clothing that has seen so much history, that has lived through memories of someone else who might not even be alive any more just brings out the melodramatic poet in me. What was that person like? Was she a good person? I wonder what she’ll say about me wearing her beloved furisode…

Incidentally, my mother asked if I was scared bringing something ‘old’ and that has had ‘someone died in’ into my room. To which I replied, “…no.”

It might be dramatic of me to relate this to human relationships, but I’ll do so anyway. It is really like I just got married. To look at the furisode, knowing that mine was probably sewn in the 1920s, is like falling in love. You see the marred portions of it, you see where the gold has faded and age has touched it with a slight patina. It would be so easy to focus on the negatives. But when you step back, it takes your breath away.

It also smells of mothballs.

I hope I go through life always appreciating the beauty of the whole and not minding the faults of the moment. The things one learns from a furisode. (Yes, in case few have noticed, I do tend to take everyday experiences and weave them into philosophy of transient life, written in semi-decent prose.)

Enough talk: ON TO THE PICTURES!!

Faded Glory

Faded Glory

Peony Pink

Peony Pink



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