About 27 degrees today and after a work week where I've been in scruffs - jeans, denim skirts, etc, stacking wood, cleaning the house and whatnot - today I am grateful to be back in kimono.

I was wrong about not wearing my cream ro again. Today I'm in the cream ro kimono topped with my man's black ro haori, and a big straw hat.

No obi - I'm just using the ties I put on the kimono years ago, which keeps things very loose and floaty around the middle. 

This is very definitely not kitsuke, but is a really comfortable way to wear kimono in the modern age.  The ro's thousands of tiny holes and cool drape against the skin are the best thing ever in the August heat, the ties of the haori match the pink plum blossoms on the kimono in an accidental but pleasing way, and I love the way you can see the cream through the black, in a way that you see in old ukiyo-e.

My latest meisen purchase is this brown one with a very unusual pattern in the weave - holly leaves and berries.

To be honest, until I got this kimono I didn't even know the Japanese HAD holly.  It's certainly not one of those patterns that you see around all the time, like chrysanthemums or phoenixes or sayagata. In fact, I've never seen holly depicted anywhere else on a Japanese item.

That said, the Japanese DO apparently have holly, so whether this kimono is influenced by western ideas, where of course the holly is a traditional home decoration at Christmas, I can't say. 

As you can see, it has very long sleeves - about 24-inch - and is in Taisho Roman style. I'm guessing it's early Showa, though, as it has that slightly sturdier feeling to it, and a cotton lining rather than whisper-thin silk. Many of my much-worn Showa items have a cotton doura for practicality. 

This kimono is very high quality meisen with a lovely pattern in the weave, as well as the woven pattern of the leaves and berries. The close-up pic below gives a better idea of the actual colour, which is a mixture of snuff brown and leaf brown, rather than the coffee colour shown in the full-length picutures. The hakkake is pale pink - an unusual colour match (I would have expected red). It's also heavy - nearly 900g - so I expect to be wearing it mostly in winter. 

This arrived last week, when I was playing with my fukuro obis. I wore it all day and it was very comfortable, though I have now put it away until a change in the weather. Smooth and delightful to wear, so another good buy from Kofudo. 

I don't normally kitsuke - dress in kimono Japanese style - but on Saturday it was pouring it down with rain, so I thought I'd give it a try.

I have in a few fukuro obis, bought for display - they normally hang from a couple of short poles in the living room. So here are my first attempts at tying the classic taiko musubi (the kimono throughout is my new brown meisen with holly leaves from Kofudo). In all the pictures on this page, the white obiage is a length of kimono lining, heat-set into shibori pleats, and my 'makura' throughout is a pair of balled-up socks.

Orange Showa fukuro obi with pine motif. The green cord is a curtain tieback and the turquoise band is a three-colour sequin trim from the 1960s.  This silk obi is very soft and pliable and is comfortable to wear - very typical of Showa obis. 

Cream and gold Showa flower and stream obi. The green cord is the same curtain tieback, while the obi dome is an enamelled and rhinestone 1950s brooch from my collection of vintage costume jewellery. This obi is rayon and the back section is quite slippy and soft, but the front is very stiff because of the amount of gold brocade, so overall the effect is stiffer than with the orange obi. 

Green obi with flower kikko. This stunning emerald green obi is a modern one and very stiff and bulky. Probably the most uncomfortable obi I tried on this day, paradoxically, I like its look the best, perhaps because of the bright colours.  The purple and silver braid is vintage Indian, and the obi dome is a 1950s spider brooch.

Cream Showa obi with pink and jade matsu. This obi is another soft Showa one and this time I tried wearing it without a makura at all, as I wanted to keep it on for the rest of the day. The cord is another curtain tieback, the gold braid is some modern sequinned organza ribbon and the obidome is a big gold Sun brooch. I changed the white obiage, which is a bit blah, for a brown and black silk one, which matches the kimono better. 

I kept this obi on for the rest of the day and found working in a chair wearing this surprisingly comfortable, though as I sat crossed-legged sewing, it dug into my ribs a bit at the top. Overall, though, I've found these obi perfectly comfortable for moving about in, bending, doing the housework, eating, etc.

They are, however, murderously difficult to tie, so I have ordered a couple of Nagoya obi in the hope that they will be easier. 

Most of the kimono that I actually wear on a daily basis are woven, or 'predyed' kimono. These have a lower degree of formality in Japan than kimono that are printed, and are used for at-home wear, casual occasions, parties with friends, etc. The principal weaves in my collection are Meisen, Tsumugi, Omeshi and Sha and most of the kimono date from 1912 to about 1955. I really love these cosy, well-worn kimono, which are often lined in very thin pongee or even cotton.  

MEISEN

This is about my favourite weave of silk, made from damaged cocoons by a process that was invented in the Meiji era, bringing silk kimono within the reach of the general populace for the very first time. Meisen feels something like a thick taffeta and is strong and lustrous - a real delight to wear. Production ended by the 1960s. 

Orchid Taisho Roman with big grey peonies. This is the first meisen kimono I ever bought. I love the subdued quality of the grey and orchid-purple silk. It's in Taisho Roman style, which is influenced by the Art Nouveau movement in the west, but the colourway is quite unusual - such kimono are usually far more gaudy. 

Purple Taisho with grey stripe. This simple striped kimono has a wonderful lustre and is lined in the usual red silk. The hakkake is purple rawsilk - a fabric I've never come across elsewhere. 

Brown stripe Taisho. This kimono was only a couple of dollars because it's in very poor condition, with numerous holes, ladders and worn parts. I fell in love with the complex stripe, which contains many different shades of brown, coffee and orange, the scarlet doura and the lime green hakkake, and I am slowly and painstakingly restoring it, using appliqué strips cut from the han-eri. 

Cream Showa with red and black lattice. This was an impulse purchase costing a dollar, because I noticed no-one else was bidding on it. A lovely, simple, everyday kimono, whose red sections are almost op-art in real life. The photograph appears to show squares, but in reality, the diamond shapes are more prominent. 

Black hitoe with shaded green yabane. This is my first meisen hitoe - an unlined kimono for spring and summer outside of the usumono months. It's a Taisho Roman item (hence the huge pattern) and the shading on the yabane (arrow-feathers) is very rare. This kimono is simply lovely to wear - light as a feather itself at only 300-odd grams and with a wonderful crispness, but it's also surprisingly warm, as the silk is very tightly woven. 

Flesh-pink with black cross hatching. A truly lustrous kimono with the most gorgeous richness to the silk. Probably Showa era rather than Taisho, as it's a tad more subdued. A lovely kimono. 

Soft brown meisen with holly leaves. A kimono with a complex weave similar to the orchid meisen, and in real life, it's rather browner than this picture - not so coffee-coloured. Taisho era, but the design of holly leaves and berries is highly unusual and may be influenced by the west. In keeping with the winter theme of the holly, it's heavy for a meisen, at 780g.

Black Taisho Roman with gigantic fuchsia crosses. A  wonderful thick, cosy, satin-like weave containing thousands of tiny red lines. Again, it's a Taisho item, hence the large pattern. A wonderful, lustrous kimono. 

TSUMUGI

Tsumugi is a hand-woven silk traditionally woven for at-home wear by silk farmers, using up spent or spoiled cocoons. It has a natural slub, similar to shantung, and is always considered informal, but is nevertheless beautiful and expensive. Modern tsumugi kimono woven on a traditional hand loom can cost over a thousand dollars. 

Peach with orange flower trails. This is a fairly modern kimono and much as I have a downer on modern ones, I also have to admit that it's my best tsumugi, with huge slubs in the weave and wonderful multicolours of pink, black, brown, orange and peach. It softened up nicely with wear and is one of my cosiest, cuddliest-feeling kimonos. 

Green and yellow tatewaku. From the feel of this kimono it may be early Showa, but it's in Taisho Roman style and in strong colours, so who really knows? This is a super little kimono, with a lovely horizontal weave in the silk, and a quiet asanoha pattern in the green bits of the tatewaku (rising steam) motif. The doura is cotton, which is a sign that it's been lovingly worn.

Taisho blue and beige stripe with gold thread. A new purchase, in very lightweight tsumugi with a lovely complex stripe made up of other stripes, and a tiny gold thread in between. Gorgeous.

Showa russet with black abstract pattern. I self-designated this kimono as tsumugi, as it was just described as a komon by the vendor. A really lovely kimono with an oh-so-subtle black pattern in it that is almost like tweed. I really love wearing this kimono, with its cafe-au-lait hakkake. 

OMESHI

Omeshi was formally the highest-level of predyed kimono silk and in fact its name is an honorific term. It's technically a silk crepe, with a tightly woven twist and is heavy in feel - quite close to a furnishing-weight silk. The heyday of omeshi kimono was the 1950s and 1960s, when they were used as 'townwear' - a quite dressy level of everyday wear. 

1960s with urushi roses. My first omeshi haori, with a gorgeous lustre to the silk, brocaded pink roses and - not visible in this photo - pale bronze-coloured swipes, like abstract leaves, in glittering metallic threads. 

1950s with urushi leaves. Bought soon after the yellow one, this highly textured omeshi has metallic brocaded leaves in burgundy, blue, green and pink - a lovely colourway. 

1940s with genroku sleeves. Not the kimono in the photo, in fact, but a near-identical one that I was sent in error. Mine is red and white striped, with the stripes so fine that they look pink at a distance. The red stripes are raised, and the kimono is the most lustrous I possess.

Black 1960s with urushi clouds. All-over urushi kimono are rare beasts and I've bought the only two I've ever seen. This one has a rust-red doura and hakkake that give a pleasing pop of colour, and the abstract clouds are in gold, old gold, silver, copper and pink. 

Purple 1960s with abstract urushi. The urushi on this komon is more abstract and the omeshi is a tad softer. The urushi is more copper-coloured than in the black one, with occasional orange and bright silver sections. The colourway reminds me of a 1930s dress I once owned, in burgundy lamé. 

Black red and white 1960s with zig-zag pattern. This is a relatively new purchase to wear every day, which attracted me by reason of its massive zigzag pattern. A good everyday komon with a bright colourway that should brighten a winter's day. 

SHA

Sha is one of the Japanese silk gauzes - the other being ro, part of the 'usumono' group of fabrics - translucent fabrics for summer wear. Sha was originally a highly proscribed fabric - it could ONLY be worn by those travelling to the Emperor's palace in the month of August. Now, it's considered suitable for in July and August, though here in France I've been wearing it throughout June and now, in August, it's too cold. In feel, sha is like a stiff organza and stands away from the body - this sturdiness makes it a useful fabric for supporting woven techniques such as urushi, which would distort ro.

Red sha with big grey flower rondels. This is my only woven sha kimono (my other sha is a print - see Gallery Part Two - komons) and is made from incredibly stiff fabric with quite a scratchy feel. It really does require underkimono, as you're meant to wear with usomono silks, because otherwise the neck would be uncomfortable, but it's wonderfully cool to wear in hot weather. This deep red colour is a traditional summer colour in Japan - beni-hitoe - and I think this kimono is probably Showa era.

Sun, showers and 19 degrees today - the temperature is steadily dropping and I think my weeks of wearing ro and sha may now be over.

Today I'm wearing my kasuri kimono in green, black and pale-blue cotton, with my cotton ro aizome kimono underneath it as a juban, and my new yellow and black kaku obi which arrived this morning. The obi is very comfy, despite my rubbish clamshell knot. Still in Crocs and no socks but last night put on Uggs to go down the garden and watch the Perseid meteor shower. 

These two layers of cotton - one thin and one thick - work very well in our current sun/wind/showers weather.

I got the idea of using yukata as jubans from a blog by a kimono lover in North Dakota, and it's a good one - it will extend (by a long chalk) the number of juban I possess.

I think I will carry on with this idea but put a han-eri on this kimono when using it as a juban, just to ring the changes. And I think this idea will work equally well with my ro kimono, and perhaps the blue sha with white yabane too.

Non-formal kimono are in their turn divided into 'woven things' (less formal) and 'painted things' (more formal). Komons - simple, printed silk kimono - are classed as 'painted things' and are the next step down from formal (haregi) kimono. They are worn in Japan for at-home, streetwear, casual gatherings with friends, and work. Mine show a range of applied techniques and their yummy colours is explanation enough for collecting them.

1970s duck-egg blue with bush clover. This kimono is made from hitokoshi chirimen with an applied design in roketsu-zome- the Japanese version of batik. The cracks through the wax create a dancing, lively feel on the surface of the heavy matt silk. 

Showa red crepe with grisaille flower and stream. This print komon was my first Showa kimono, and my first crepe, kicking off a love affair with both. I love the long sleeves and the soft drape of this kimono. 

Taisho sage green crepe with yellow floral yabane. My first Taisho kimono, creating a lasting romance with this era - my favourite of the 20th century. The yabane - here filled with flowers - is also a favourite theme. In wear, this kimono is quite noticeably adorned with buddist swastikas, which causes some raised eyebrows among those who don't realise the origin of this symbol!

Showa cream bingata crepe with Edo landscape. This 1970s komon, in heavy crepe, has an applied design in Bingata style - a multicoloured stencil technique used in the island of Okinawa. The stencilling creates a slightly off-register look that is very lively and pretty compared with a simple print. 

Showa brown and cream arabesque komon. This quiet 1950s print is on very thin, lightweight crepe and also has applied (though very faded) silver surihaku all over the brown sections. The ribbon hem and cafe au lait crepe hakkake are also very pleasing and quiet. 

Taisho black rinzu with cranes. A wonderfully thin Taisho rinzu, with crysanthemums in the weave and a print of interlocking origami cranes in solid red and outline red. The hem is lightly padded for extra formality and I adore the red doura and burgundy hakkake - a gorgeous kimono. 

1970s pink rinzu with red boshi shibori. My first rinzu kimono, with a wonderful maples and stream pattern in the weave. The faint white lines are kanoko shibori, while the red flowers are created from the boshi shibori technique. Simply gorgeous. 

1970s purple rinzu with tiny flowers. This rinzu is much coarser and heavier than the pink one, and the print - though you can't tell from this photo - is made up from millions of tiny multicoloured flowers that appear abstract at a distance. 

Early Showa grey rinzu with sumi-nagashi pattern. Sumi-nagashi is 'dripping ink' pattern, originally created by floating dyes on water, much as we do with book endpapers. This, however, is a print and dates from before the War. The doura is whisper-thin, as is characteristic of pre-war kimono.

1970s cream ro with printed plum blossom. My first ro kimono, in fine, heavy, silky fabric. The plum blossoms were described as shibori by the the vendor, but are in fact a fake shibori print. Not visible in the photo are hundreds of fine black lines, like the strokes of a pen. Plum blossom is a winter theme but this is very much a summer kimono. 

Navy and black printed stripe with silver glitter. A rather 'iki' item, I feel, as stripes are normally woven, and therefore more casual, but these are printed masquerading as woven - some subtle one-downmanship may be going on here. The rust-coloured hakkake is a surprising touch, and the blue stripes are covered with silver glitter, making this item blinding in the sun. Not sure how old this is, but I would guess 1950s or 1960s.

Taisho sha with blue yabane. This sha (gauze) kimono is made from either rayon or a silk and rayon mix and is in Taisho Roman style. Sadly, it's marked (seemingly indelibly) with some big coffee-coloured stains, but fortunately they aren't too noticeable in wear.  Yabane is one of my favourite patterns, but I like the pattern to be slightly complicated - in this version, I really like the vertical broken stripes and the black and red spines of the feathers. 

It hadn't occurred to me until now that I haven't done a blog with all my kimono in it, so, as at August 2010, here is my kimono gallery. It's quite large, so it's in sections. Part one, formal kimono. 

UCHIKAKE

Gold uchikake with royal carts. Age, probably 1970s - stiff, heavy kara-ori (Chinese weave, ie: brocade). 

Purple uchikake with cranes. Probably 1980s - soft, pliable kara-ori in an unusual colour. 

Uchikake of the modern era are impossible to wear, so these are strictly for display. I have one dark back wall where they can be shown to their full advantage and I alternate them. 

FURISODE

Orange rinzu with white ume. 1960s with yuzen dyeing. I didn't like this when it arrived - the design is gigantic and the yuzen painted areas are as stiff as a board. Currently dismantled, awaiting re-assembly. 

Pale pink satin with flower fans. A modern kimono in a nameless textured satin (both inside and out), as well as silk embroidery. I can't work out if it's yuzen or a print. 

Furisode are supposed to be something I am long past, at the age of 47, and I am still in two minds as to whether I should own any at all, but the pale pink one is particularly good for display and there are some techniques in furisode that just aren't available anywhere else, so it's nice to have a couple. 

TOMESODE

1970s with stylised mist. My first kimono, in heavy, heavy hitokoshi chirimen with applied surihaku, glitter-thread embroidery, yuzen and gold thread couching. Typical of the tomesode of this era, it feels like outerwear and has a padded hem. 

Taisho era with yuzen mirror pattern. My favourite tomesode, in soft, lightweight silk with a red lining. Note the mirror-pattern yuzen characteristic of this period - this carries on through the inside. The collar is stitched down, showing, I think, that it was worn frequently, and the yuzen is of a very high standard. 

1970s with Edo scenery. Really beautiful in real life - a faultless 1970s tomesode. I really like the idea of wearing a kimono featuring images of women wearing kimono. 

1980s with white wisp. An impulse bid, since no-one else was bidding on it - a very pretty tomesode with white yuzen leaves and flowers in thick gold thread. 

1980s ro summer tomesode. Wonderful to get a tomesode for summer - this one has yuzen and surihaku in the wave pattern. 

Tomesode are my favourite kimono and I would like to own more Taisho-era ones with their red linings and amazing yuzen. However, more modern ones also offer lovely techniques, particularly surihaku, gold thread couching and embroidery in both silks and metallic threads. 

HOUMONGI

Mustard hitokoshi-chirimen with grisaille bamboo. A fabulous, strongly coloured houmongi (quite a rare thing), with fabulous quality grisaille bamboo, and gold paint outlines. 

Pale green 1960s with orange yuzen. Sadly, no longer with us (it is still something that makes me break out in a sweat occasionally, that I cut this up). But nevertheless still very much used. The jacket I made from it is beautiful and always receives admiring glances and comments.

Cream Showa rinzu with gold embroidery. My replacement purchase for the pale green one - wonderful soft rinzu with loads of embroidery in gold thread. 

Most houmongi are a bit too ladylike to my taste, so if I get any more, they will probably be strongly coloured. This mustard one is a rare example of a modern kimono I like, while the cream Showa one is just gorgeously soft. I would never have cut up the pale green one if I had realised how difficult it would be to find another one I liked.

TSUKESAGE

Pale green rinzu with watercolour-painted sakura. The painting on this kimono is not yuzen, but sits on top of the silk, allowing the pale green colour to grin through. Sadly, I again cut it up some years ago (one of my early disasters), but it has now furnished a han-eri, a scarf for my sister, a scarf for myself and there's still enough left over to make a jacket, so it has not disappeared from the world. 

Black figured matt silk with yuzen irises. The silk on this kimono is very very matt and figured, while the yuzen is almost irridescent in quality. The ombre-dyed yellow lining also matches beautifully - a really lovely kimono. Black tsukesage are very rare, I think - certainly I've never seen another one. Again, most tsukesage are too pastel and ladylike for my taste, but I will look out in the future for strongly coloured ones. 

IROMUJI or MOFUKU?

Black ro kimono with five crests. The idea of iromuji (unpatterned) kimono is something I've never been very keen on, addicted as I am to colour and pattern. Many of those available are pastel and easily marked, which makes them difficult to wear, though such kimono are said to be perfect for the tea ceremony, so that you don't draw attention to yourself or clash with the implements. I thought I'd never actually bought an unpatterned kimono, but I realised recently that I do in fact have just one - this five-crested, plain black ro kimono, which I bought as a summer overlayer and to do double-duty as a juban in the offseason.

The thing is, I am not entirely certain that it's not mofuku (mourning wear). In theory, five-crested black kimono are only for funerals, but it seems odd to me that someone would wear a see-through kimono to a funeral.

Whatever it was originally designed for, at least I always have the option of overdyeing it, discharge-dyeing it, adding embroidery, lace appliqué, etc etc, to bring it up to a more decorative state - and I certainly won't be wearing it in Japan, just in case...

21 degrees, with sun and showers, so alternately quite hot and freezing cold - fairly unseasonable for August.

Felt like wearing ro today, so put on my cream one with plum blossoms, but then felt in need of an extra layer, so rather than getting undressed again, wore the cream silk haori with mosquito print. I originally bought this haori for resale but rather liked it when it turned up, and so it remains. The little mosquitoes are in shades of red, yellow, green and black.

My obi is a length of stiff synthetic organza with gold checks, with gold braid sewn along every edge. My mate Maylin picked this up for me when she was buying fabrics by weight from some sale place in the UK and it works well as an obi because it's very grippy and doesn't slip.

In my usual manner, it's wrapped around a stay (in this case, cardboard from a shirt package), then wrapped front to back, back to front, twisted and tied, and the short ends tucked in. I find this a very comfortable way to wear an obi on a daily basis as it's completely flat at the back for sitting in chairs. 

At the weekend, I might make a new obi stay from my usual green mesh, but wrapped in white fabric so that I can wear it with light-coloured things. 

With the day being a bit draughty, I decided also to wear a han eri. It's not actually attached to anything here - in a total cheat, it's just tucked in and holds its place pretty well by dint of being fairly stiff. This is one of a number of han eri I made recently, and is recycled from an old Yves St Laurent dress that I found in a charity shop.  I particularly like the way it picks up the black, cream and pink that are present in both the kimono and the haori. 

Probably the last outing for this kimono as a kimono - from the next month or two it might do double duty as a juban.