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. 

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.

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. 

Most kimono collectors don't have a big collection of kimono but I am a bit of a magpie myself and I became aware recently that some of my kimono, which are nearly all bought to wear, sometimes never come out of the cupboard.

Part of this, I know, is down to their weight. For instance, I keep picking up my purple rinzu townwear kimono with tiny plants and finding that it's just too heavy. Or a kimono that I think is heavy, once I put it on turns out to allow too free a passage of air. 

I therefore decided to check on my kimonos' weights, so that I can sort them out into rough seasons and make sure I've always got the right ones handy at the right time - unseasonal kimono can then be packed away, much as I do with my unseasonal western clothing. Yes, it's completely anal, but then I like making lists...

Because I bought most of my kimono on Ebay, the weights are logged (I save out the description), but on some kimono the weight was never listed, so where I'm not sure about something I've grouped it with other kimono that seem to me to be similar in weight. 

I decided on the following breakdown of seasons, which applies to where I live in Normandie:

* Winter: December, January, February. Bitter weather, temps from minus-10 to about 7 degrees. Warmest awase kimono with wool jubans.

* Early spring: March, April. Cold, blustery weather with temps in single figures to mid-teens. Warm awase kimono with wool or thick silk jubans. 

* Late spring/early summer: May, June. Bright weather with temperatures rising. Mid-lightweight lined kimono or hitoes with jubans in thin silk (May) or cotton (June). 

* Summer: July and August. The traditional 'summer kimono' months in Japan. Temps in the high 20s to 30s. Usumono kimono and yukata. Ro jubans or none at all.

* Early autumn: September. Temperatures suddenly dropping back to mid-teens. Lighter-weight awase kimono. Thick silk or cotton jubans. 

* Late autumn: October, November. Heavier awase kimono with wool and silk jubans.

That little list told me straight away that I need to make some more jubans. Currently I have only four: lightweight shibori silk, ro silk, polyester and wool muslin. Accordingly, I've put aside some dress lengths in various weights of wool, silk and cotton to make some for the different seasons (mainly winter, as that's what's coming up). 

It was also a surprise to me to find out that all of my heaviest kimono are tomesode, not wool. The same applies to haoris - the heaviest are the longer-length urushi haoris, especially those in omeshi. This doesn't mean, of course, that they are necessarily the warmest, so doubtless there will be a bit of tweaking going on. But I hope in this way to have on hand roughly the right kimono for the season in future, with the wrong-season kimono packed away carefully. 

After listing all my kimonos weights, I drew up a chart of week-by-week kimono wear (yes, I know, I know....), so my challenge now is to make sure that I wear each kimono listed at least once in its allocated week, giving me a 'new' kimono to look forward to on a regular basis. 

My first kimono ensemble arrived yesterday - this black wool number from Yamatoku (a spur-of-the-moment 99 cent bid).

The kimono is a classically unlined wool kimono, but has quite a high-end, cotton-lined collar with a press-stud (all my other wool kimono have sewn-down collars). The haori is lined with a pretty polyester lining and a very deep hem. 

Described as unused, both seem to be fairly modern, but since they had a musty smell from long storage and when I opened the kimono, a silverfish fell out, I decided to take a risk for once and wash them, as they will now be put away until winter. 

I've never washed a wool kimono before, nor a haori - I've always been too worried about the lining shrinking at a different rate from the main fabric, and the dyes leaking - but I popped them into a lingerie bag and washed them on zero degrees on wool wash and they've come out absolutely fine. I ironed them while still damp this morning, and they're now drying on racks, awaiting another pressing once fully dry.

Wool tsumugi is a very tough, slubby, slightly hairy weave (think Harris Tweed only thinner) that is very different from the fine 'moserin' (muslin) weaves you see in wool juban.

I got the DH a couple of wool jubans this summer that are very thin - one like a wool challis and the other so thin and fine that it's almost transparent. He wears both of them over pjs as a dressing gown. This wool kimono, in contrast, must never go anywhere near my skin, I think, or I would be itching like crazy. It is far more like suiting, and will go well over jeans and a sweater in winter.  I might put a black velvet collar on the haori, and possibly on the kimono too, to be on the safe side.

Kimono-haori ensembles nearly always seem to be wool. I don't know whether I'll be wearing this kimono and haori more together or more separately, but I can guess that they'll both get plenty of wear this coming season, for both their warmth and their dark, practical colours.  It is really nice to contemplate livening up my usual all-black and brown winter sweaters and jeans with some bright colours like this red, green and yellow.

This new kimono arrived yesterday from a favourite vendor, Kofudo.

In 'Taisho Roman' style, it probably dates from the early 1920s, or possibly the early Showa era, but retaining Taisho style. 

It has the typical hallmarks of a Taisho piece that I find the most attractive: long sleeves and a whisper-thin scarlet silk doura, and in addition has a beautifully subtle mint-green crepe hakkake - the same fabric is used to line the cuffs.

These incredibly thin linings are a characteristic of kimono from the 1920s to the end of the war and I feel mark the last time that the kimono was worn as everyday clothing. Modern kimono, from - say - the 1960s onwards feel much more like outer or dress-up garments.  

The outer fabric of this komon is what I might call tsumugi,or perhaps a chirimen, but however you define it, it's very textured, with the straw-coloured areas traversed by fine navy stripes and the navy stripes made up of hundreds of tiny beige vertical stripes.

There's also an incredibly fine gold thread in there, separating the blue and beige stripes, and the two shades of beigey-straw colour are different thicknesses.

Altogether, a really lovely and subtle kimono whose beauty is only apparent in close-up. 

Vintage striped kimono, and those with yabane, tatewaku or cross-hatching, are among my favourite kimono for everyday wear. I wore this one all day yesterday, over a silk satin tunic and it was lovely - light and drapey. A really good three-season komon. 

Hitoe are unlined kimono and they're a comparative rarity in modern kimono because the majority of people who now have kimono made only ever have one or two, so they tend to have the high-end type of furisode/tomesode with linings.

However, vintage hitoe kimonos are fairly readily available.  Nevertheless, searching for hitoe hasn't been high on my list of priorities. Perhaps I was put off by my first experience - a rare failing from Yamatoku. When it arrived, it was so filthy and faded that I had to take it apart for the fabric. Even then, it was mostly unsalvadgeable.

But back to this one. It's rare, says the vendor, Kofudo, and is either Taisho or Showa in the Taisho Roman style, and combines two of my favourite things: meisen silk and yabane pattern. Yabane is one of the most ancient patterns to be found in kimono, dating back to at least the Heian era (794-1195) and it's a stylised arrow feather or fletch. For centuries, it was equally to be found on men's kimono - it is, after all, a warrior symbol. Sometimes you find tiny yabane on garments, tightly packed, sometimes they're elongated to almost the length of the garment and sometimes, as here, they're just enormous.

I hadn't noticed until I'd already bought it and someone pointed it out, that the shading on the yabane is really pretty on this kimono. It's actually turquoise, not as blue as it seems in the pictures, and there are also lime-green bits that don't show up at all in photos. The combination of grey and black is also very subtle and attractive.   

When this kimono arrived I was made up - it's gorgeous. Really crisp, taffeta-like meisen (quite different from the pink one with cross-hatching) and only 390g, which is lighter than several of my yukata.

The juban, hardly visible, is just a sweet little polyester one that a vendor gave me with another purchase, and as an obi I'm wearing a length of rayon crepe kimono fabric with urushi chrysanthemums. 

The obi stay is my 5in deep one and it's very comfortable. Over it, I wrap the fabric front to back, then back to front, tie it in a knot, wrap it to the back again and knot it in a loose, floppy bow that lies flat enough that I can work at my desk. 

The kimono is very comfortable and smooth to wear, and the 18in-long sleeves stay well out of the way when you're typing.  

So this is me today in France in about 23 degrees and a high wind, having just taken off my tazuki cord and pinny (I was cooking lunch), and shod, although you can't see it, very inelegantly in Crocs (increasingly necessary after my foot operation last year). Time to invest in some tabi and zori, I think...

A couple of new kimono arrived today - both of them wool, which seems a bit weird in the middle of summer, but a girl likes to be prepared. 

This red one with a broken stripe is from KimonoBestBuy on Ebay, and was only a few cents. I'm guessing it dates from the 1950s from the colour, which in real life is rust-red shot through with black slubs, with additions of green in every other stripe. The fabric is the harsh, stiff kind of wool tsumugi that is practically bulletproof - very easy to wear.

I already have this same fabric in this purple wool komon, bought in 2004, and both are very different from my other wool komon - this navy one with Edo houses, which is much more like a gabardine in feel.

Throughout last winter I kept this navy one hanging up behind my desk as a popover, and it's really extraordinarily warm and comfortable - probably, overall, my most-worn kimono. 

I wear winter kimono over my thermals and a polo-neck sweater, and they're usually teamed - most unflatteringly - with Uggs, as our house is freezing in winter. 

The other kimono that arrived today was this man's one from KimonoBestBuy. Theoretically it's for me. I was so enamoured of the brown striped silk one that I bought for the DH recently, that I put in a one-dollar bid for this one just to make the most of the combined shipping from Japan.

I was the only bidder, which is madness really - this kimono is absolutely beautiful, pretty heavy at 980g, and very warm - the fabric feels something like a quality wool suiting. The DH's eyes lit up when he saw it and I can see I'm going to have to wrest it from him to have any chance of wearing it. My aim then is to hem it up by a couple of inches so that both of us can wear it.

Wool kimono are nearly always unlined, and although you're meant to dry-clean them, they're actually washable in the machine, in a lingerie bag - you need the lingerie bag to prevent the garment getting twisted and stressing the hand-done stitches. 

They are also always considered informal kimono. Wool was a late addition to the Japanese panoply of fibres, and is a western introduction, so cannot be considered as formal. Also, designs are always woven, which makes the garment inherently 'everyday'.

Geometrics and other kasuri-type weaves and abstract designs that look like solid colour from a distance are all common in wool, while multi-coloured pictorial designs like the Edo landscape are less common and considered a bit posher.