A new kimono arrived this week - this townwear in black silk with red and white oblique stripes.

Described as 'blend silk' fibres by vendor Kyotokiyou, I would describe it as omeshi. It has the tough, dirt-shedding surface of omeshi, along with its considerable weight - it's 870g, which puts it firmly in my autumn-winter category. 

I really ummed and ah'ed about this kimono. Not because it was expensive, at $9.99, but because I wasn't sure I could justify it. I decided, in the end, that it was just too gorgeous to miss - I love the jazzy op-art pattern and the dark colours are very practical for my life. In the end, I was the only bidder and I don't understand why no-one else was interested. I can't be the only person who likes loud kimono.

When it arrived, it proved to be a slender, well-made komon that I think will suit my life. The red in real life is darker than the picture. The red doura is either silk or poly - hard to tell, and I don't really care in a winter kimono, as the fabric's not next to my skin, and the hakkake (bottom lining) is peach crepe. 

The colour combinations the Japanese use do sometimes seem a little odd to a westerner. Peach isn't a colour I would associate with black, red and white. A little of it shows at the hem, bringing a little extra life to the garment. The black, red and white combi itself is very common in the 1950s, in both the west and the east. 

I think this kimono will prove a favourite, come winter, when I am handling dark and dirty things like logs and densified wood, and ash pans, and I look forward to wearing it. 

Having discovered recently that I had some shantung wrapover jackets that I made many years ago, which would pass as a juban if only they had a stiffer collar, I decided to make my own han-eri.

I am a squirrel Nutkin and never throw anything away, so in the sewing room there are plenty of lengths of fabric that are a bit too short to use for anything much and in patterns that are a bit too loud and bright for daily wear. But for that reason they would make perfect han-eri.

To get the measurements, I removed a stained han-eri from an existing juban (and in a nasty polyester crepe, too - the sort of fabric I prefer to avoid) and used it as a pattern. Basically, you need a piece of fabric about 6-8in wide and about 39in long (its width should be four times the width of the collar you're sewing it to). 

You fold in the short raw ends and press them, then fold the fabric lengthwise into four - both edges to the middle, then the same again, leaving you with a long piece of fabric where all the raw edges are hidden. This, you slot over your juban collar both front and back and simply slip-stitch into place. 

The two finished han-eri shown at left are made from old silk scarves that had gotten stained or torn over the years but which I couldn't bring myself to throw away. Because the silk was very thin, I used lightweight interfacing to back it, which also makes it easier to press and keep a crisp edge. Using an old scarf has the advantage that you can use the borders. 

The same day I also made collars from white vintage batiste with broderie anglaise, turquoise furnishing silk brocade, Chinese rayon brocade with multicoloured butterflies (used both face-on and in reverse), pastel-dyed silk shantung in shades of jade and pink, and this black op-art silk, which came from an old dress.

Next up will be all manner of florals, I think, as I would like a very pretty, Meiji-style neckline on my kimonos, with patterned juban collars, date-eri and patterned kake-eri. Watch this space. 

The answer, really, is when it's too heavy.

The kimono I'm wearing in this picture is a modern kasuri cotton kimono, unlined. I can, and sometimes do, wear it as a yukata but the fabric is quite stiff and thick - though by no means as thick as the old-style handwoven kasuri, so it really does work better with a juban. 

The juban is the picture is one I made many years ago from eau-de-nil shantung - I must have had this about 25 years, but shantung ages pretty well, no matter how many times you wash it. I used to wear it as an outer-layer jacket, but am now pensioning it off as a juban, along with a couple of others I made at the same time, and it needs a new han-eri, probably one of those that I made recently (see separate post). 

The obi is also my own 'creation' - just a 3m length of handwoven Guatemalan silk with gold threads. It looks and feels a lot like sakiori - Japanese recycled silk - and is woven on the same principle. I think the original silk from which it is is made may be recycled from saris. Not only is it beautiful, it's also easy to wear because it 'holds' and stays put when you tie it. As you can see, I just wrap it round a couple of times, knot it and tuck the ends in - there's no obi stay under this because the fabric's pretty sturdy all by itself. A very comfortable way to wear an obi. 

This kimono is getting a lot of wear this summer because of the dark, practical colour and busy pattern - best for days when the temperature is in the low 20s. The fact that it can be washed at home in the machine machine is also a big bonus. Altogether great little buy from Kimono Best Buy. 

I was thrilled when this little babe turned up today - my latest black meisen komon, from Kofudo.

You can't tell from the pictures, but it's the most delicious meisen imaginable - like a thick black satin with rows of minuscule fuchsia dots in it. The doura and sleeves are lined in thin red silk, and the whole garment has a wonderful drape. 

I like everything about this kimono - the smooth silk, the long sleeves, the glimpse of red lining, and I can't wait to wear it. But I'll have to - it's still in the mid-20s here at the moment, and too hot for anything but yukata or sha kimonos. But I look forward to snuggling up in it, come the cooler weather. 

This white houmongi is the latest addition to my kimono wardrobe - I was lucky enough to win it last night on Ebay.

I have been umming and ah-ing over getting a new houmongi lately. Now that I regret the decision to cut up my first-ever houmongi, I've been looking for one of similar quality but also affordable, and it's been a tall order.

One black one with yuzen cranes that I had my eye on went for $80 recently - way out of my league - and since I had cancelled another bid to bid on it, and then the other one went very cheaply, I was left kicking myself. 

Consequently, when I spotted this one from Japanese Antiques, my eyes lit up. I'm guessing it's not particularly old, but it ticks several of my boxes:

* Long sleeves

* Multicoloured

* Yuzen

* The pattern reaches to the collar at the front

* The pattern continues under the obi, rather than breaking. 

It also has a two-tone background, multi-coloured decoration, sayagata-patterned Rinzu silk, silk embroidery, gold thread embroidery, surihaku, and the pattern extends to both sleeves, both front and back. 

All those attributes made it very desirable, so I placed my bid before going to bed last night, and was astonished this morning to find I'd won it for only $20.50 (this is FAR less than I paid six years ago for my other houmongis). 

I seriously look forward to wearing this kimono, and also to displaying it, as it should liven up my dark back wall. 

I simply love this kimono. I love everything about it, from the rough omeshi crepe to the soft combination of grey and pink, to the glittery urushi thread of the leaves.

It's a 1950s kimono, and left to their own devices, many people might have guessed that. There is something about this combination of grey and pink that simply shouts 1950s, and from that decade, which is part of the Showa era, there are many kimono in red, black, pink, grey and cream - all colours seen in western fabrics of the same decade. 

This kimono is from Yamatoku and cost $23 back in 2004. The urushi has different levels of lustre, and is in the colours pink, burgundy, dark green and blue. The doura is cream, the hakkake is pink, and the sleeve linings are pink, so there is a subtle trimming effect at cuff and hem, and altogether this kimono has a feeling of rightness and balance about it. 

Because it is very short - only some 56in - I have always worn this kimono, even at the beginning when I couldn't get the knack of the ohashori, so it has always had a great deal of wear. And there is something about the grey colour that I find really pleasing. There are many many shades of grey in kimono, as it's a common colour for older women, and this one has the delicate shades of a pinkish-grey evening sky when a storm is on its way. 

I thought today that I'd write a word or two about pricing.

What a collector is willing to pay for kimono depends on a number of factors, including your income and the purpose to which you're going to put the kimono. And I can only write about how I calculate prices - your own method might be different.

For instance, I like to wear my kimono, not just display them, so my prices are calculated accordingly. There is little reason for me to buy an expensive hikifurisode like this black one, even if I could afford it, because I simply won't get much use out of it and my only display space in the house is already alternating my two uchikakes. I don't mind the odd bit of damage, such as a moth-hole, because it means I don't feel bad about wearing an old item, but I draw the line at wide, diffuse stains because you just can't get them out. 

Generally speaking, you can expect to pay more for higher-end kimono such as furisode, tomesode, houmongi and uchikake, more for hand-done techniques such as yuzen and shibori, and more for rarity. Everyday kimono in woven patterns are generally less, as are komons, with overall small prints. Pale-coloured iromuji can often be expensive, though, as very few survive for long unscathed. 

I buy pretty much all of my kimono on Ebay. It's the cheapest source I've found and the power sellers such as Yamatoku, Ryujapan, Kofudo and Kimono Best Buy are all very bona fide and provide a lot of information. Buyers who are less sure of themselves should buy from a shop, or make sure that returns are very easy, as it is possible to make mistakes. 

When it comes to placing bids, I use a snipe service, set my price and then walk away - I don't sit around watching the auction (in any case, they tend to end the small hours, French time). If you do so, it is too tempting to keep increasing your bid. 

When I first began collecting, I lurked for a long time and watched the prices that things were fetching. That was in 2004, and I would say that by and large, prices have come down quite a lot. Back then, I'd pay $30-odd for a tomesode, and $60 for a furisode but these days, I am more of a tightwad, and I generally calculate like this:

1 Yukata: $5. $5 extra for an extra colour; $10 extra for a technique such as shibori. Favour Japanese patterns. Sometimes for a very bright yukata, I'll go up to $15.

2 Haori: $5. $5 extra for vintage; $5 for extra length; $5 for long sleeves; $5 extra for yuzen, shibori, embroidery or urushi; $10 extra for a rare shibori technique; $5 extra for a pretty lining.

3 Juban: $10. $20 extra for quality shibori. $10 extra for vintage.

4 Komon and daywear kimono: $10. $10 extra for Showa; $20 extra for Taisho; $10 extra for a red lining; $10 extra for shibori; $20 extra for rare shibori; $20 extra for yuzen; $5 extra for long sleeves, $10 extra for meisen, sha, ro or tsumugi.

5 Tsukesage: $23. $10 extra for more pattern; $5 extra for long sleeves. 

6 Houmongi: $25. $10 extra for embroidery. $10 extra for good yuzen; $5 extra for long sleeves; $5 for pattern that comes up to the waist.

7 Tomesode: $23. $10 extra for iro-tomesode. $10 extra for Taisho; $10 extra for a red lining. $10 extra for a pattern that reaches both sides; $10 extra for pattern that reaches waist-high; $5 extra for long sleeves, $5 extra for each technique used (yuzen, shibori, embroidery, surihaku).

8 Furisode: $27. $20 extra for Eba pattern. $10 extra for embroidery; $20 extra for yuzen, $20 extra for shibori, $20 extra for hikifurisode, $50 extra for kakeshita.

9 Uchikake: $100. $20 extra for embroidery, $50 extra for more colours. 

I don't buy michiyuki, or much in the way of men's kimono. 

As you can see, a plain, modern komon merits $10 for me, while for a red-lined Taisho version with long sleeves I might bid as high as $45. That is not to say that I actually end up paying that much, merely that it's what I consider to be the top price. In practice, most daywear kimono suffer some damage, and you can reduce the price, mentally, for every ding on the garment.

The kimonos that really stroll on in price are the furisode because they can have so much handwork (all the garments pictured here are furisode, though none of them is mine, and look how different they are), so while a bolt-silk printed furisode only merits $27 for me (because basically you could make this yourself), a wedding furisode (kakeshita) such as this blue one decorated with yuzen, embroidery and couching, could go as high as $200 or $300.

The above is only a rough guide, of course, but it's a good idea to have some tickboxes when you collect things. For instance, for me, vintage is always better than modern, while for other women, modern might be preferable. I favour Taisho items, then Showa, and I like stripes, long sleeves and red linings. I will also pay more for subtle yuzen, such as the beige furisode shown above, but modern, zingy, bright kimono don't appeal to me at all.

When I want to bid on an item, I download a picture of it and compare it with the kimono I already have. All bar two are from Ebay, so I have pictures of them all, and I try to be careful not to duplicate things too closely. For instance, purple is a colour I have plenty of, while I don't have any gold-coloured kimono, so I try to avoid purple items. Recently I cancelled a bid on an iro-tomesode that was otherwise utterly beautiful because it was purple, as I already have five purple kimono.

I've also tried hard in my collection to build up a balance of different weaves, techniques, fibres and types of kimono. Overall, though, the majority are komon, meisen and tsumugi because these are the kimono out of which I get most wear. When it comes to haori, I favour urushi (with LOTS of urushi) and shibori. Other women, who are doing more kitsuke, might find that they get the greatest mileage out of a relatively subdued tsukesage, with which they can ring the changes with different obi and obiage. 

Everyone's preferences are different and in the end, you partly have to go with your gut instinct: because there is no better reason for bidding on a kimono than simply falling in love with it. 

This was the second houmongi I bought, in 2004, and is from Ryujapan. Overall, it's probably the most beautiful kimono I own, because the yuzen is of a very high standard and the overall balance of the garment is just perfect.

Houmongi (houmon - visit, gi - wear) are 'visiting wear' kimono, worn for visiting people, tea ceremonies, weddings of friends, formal dinners and events that are less formal than those requiring tomesode (weddings of immediate family, funerals of friends etc) and more formal than those requiring tsukesage (pretty much everything else).

Choosing when to wear a houmongi, in Japan, is a tricky balance to strike, but since the Japanese generally prefer more formal rather than less, if in doubt, go for a houmongi. 

As houmongi go, this one is at the formal end of the range, as the design is hand-painted rather than woven. If the design was more confined to the hem, it would more properly be called a tsukesage, because the design 'reads' the right way up and some, in fact, might call it a houmongi-tsukesage for this reason. On the other hand, it lacks a crest at the back, which makes it less formal.

It's in hitokoshi chirimen silk - a tightly woven silk crepe with a dead matt finish, which is a very high-end fabric, and it weighs about 1100 grams, so is a pretty serious kimono to put on. 

The design is 'eba' style - ie: it runs right across the seams of the garment, and is hand-painted in yuzen, with additions in gold leaf around every motif, and filling in the cloud patterns. The lining is ombre-dyed in grey, which is a beautiful colour balance with the grisaille bamboo design. 

All in all, this is an extremely high-end kimono, clearly commissioned by someone specially, probably in the 1970s.

I am guessing a woman in her 30s-40s who practised the tea ceremony. My reasons? Houmongi can be worn by married or unmarried women, but the owner of this was probably married because the sleeves are squared-off, not rounded.

She may have been out of her 20s, as the sleeves are also quite short and the pattern on the garment is beautifully subdued - longer sleeves and busier patterns are considered more suitable for younger women.

The shorter sleeves might also make it easier to practise the tea ceremony.

The pattern comes all the way up to the shoulder, whereas the houmongi of a woman in her 50s or 60s might confine it more the hem.

There is no crest at the back, as you might wear for weddings or formal dinners. 

But in the end, this is all conjecture. I will never know who commissioned this piece of wearable art.

I am ashamed to say I have never yet worn this kimono as I am too afraid of spoiling it. I don't live a fancy life, so striped meisen and tsumugi are more my kind of daywear and wearing it out to dinner or something would feel too much like dress-up. But perhaps I'll one day be brave enough to put it on when I have people over for the evening, maybe with my equally subdued bamboo fukuro obi.