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. 

Michiyuki means 'goes over everything'. Since at this time I was aiming in my collection to have an example of every type of kimono, I bought this one, attracted by its busy floral print of stylised chrysanthemums and its gorgeous water-colour dyed lining. However, I wasn't sure the shape would suit me. 

  Although the outer silk is dyed, it copies a Yuzen technique in leaving white areas around the motifs and also has applied gold surihaku dots in the middle of the flowers, while the lining is a startling rainbow of yellow, jade and salmon pink dyed in a gradated technique.

On arrival, I simply loved the print and the gorgeous figured Rinzu silk, as well as the lining (also Rinzu) but oh - the style. It was awful. I am quite a busty girl and when closed this garment looked terribly frumpy. The depth of the neckline is huge, because it's designed to go over a full kimono and juban, and show the han-eri.

  I decided to salvage it if I could. Firstly I took off the front overlap, stitched the side sections closed and made a long collar out of the front section. This didn't work. The garment was still too narrow at hip level. So I opened up the seams and created side vents. Sadly, this didn't work either, so I decided to take the garment apart for the fabric.

It proved to render up quite a lot of fabric, because michiyuki's are self-lined to the shoulder, and the fabric simply wraps around the bottom hem and straight back up.

A couple of years later I used the fabric to make a lovely neck scarf, which remains one of my favourites, and a lingerie top cut on the bias. I also used the lining fabric to make a similar top. Michiyukis are cheap and plentiful but I won't, obviously, be buying one again except for the fabric.

I was feeling rather disillusioned by my recent failture with kimono number 5, but my next kimono was a resounding success. This pink Rinzu kimono uses three separate techniques - Bokashi watercolour dyeing to give the background silk a shimmer, plus kanoko shibori and boshi shibori to create the pattern.

I fell in love with the sugar-pink colour of this kimono and didn't know at the time that it was Rinzu. It was also my first purchase from a new vendor, Ryujapan. When it arrived, I realised it was the 'feel' of kimono I'd been searching for - very negligee like and feminine. The lining was also beautiful, with the hakkake (bottom section) dyed in an ombre style. 

Kanoko (deer-dot) shibori is a technique in which small sections of fabric are looped with threads and pulled tight, which acts as a resist. It produces a white ring on the fabric similar to the markings on a young fawn.  Boshi shibori uses an item such as a cork or a coin to provide an area of resist or which can be dipped into dye - in this kimono, this is how the red 'flowers' are created. 

It is part of the Japanese aesthetic that the design of the Rinzu should oppose the pattern applied to it - hence leaves and streams in the silk itself, and flowers applied on top.  

I shortened this kimono to ankle-length and took up the ombre lining from the doura (top lining) rather than the hakkake (bottom lining) in order to preserve the ombre shading. I find this kimono very pleasing and feminine to wear.

This haori was my first purchase after deciding to start collecting kimono in 2005.

It is a silk haori from Yamatoku which I bought for both its beautiful lining, and its urushi outer layer.

Urushi is brocade weaving with lacquered threads and is my favourite technique in kimono. Sometimes the lacquered threads are coloured, but most often they are in shades of gold, copper and silver. In older kimono they are made of actual metal wrapped around a core thread of linen, but in this more modern garment, they are simply lame.

The black background silk is rinzu - a kind of silk damask used only for women's kimono. Here it is woven with a background pattern of waves. The urushi appears in 'karabana' - Chinese flower-shaped rondels, which are further enhanced with landscape motifs in black, gold and copper lamé. These landscape motifs are called Chaya-Tsuji and date from Heian court literature or Japanese Noh plays.

  The lining of this haori is particularly beautiful and when it was for sale, it was photographed mainly inside-out. It is a yellow print silk with applied gold paint, with a design of maple leaves in red and brown. I wanted a black haori and it was very nice to get such a beautiful example, especially as my first online purchase.

On arrival, the haori was quite different from what I was expecting. I had expected more texture in the urushi and a matter, crepe-like fabric, but this haori was very fine and silky, and the urushi was not very prominent. However once over the surprise, I began to appreciate that it was very beautiful. The rinzu silk is fine quality with a beautiful drape, and the flowers in the rondels are copper-coloured, not red, as I had thought.

Because I had never seen a haori before, I also didn't expect the lower back of the garment to be lined, which haoris always are unless otherwise indicated - this gives the garment better weight and drape. Because it is rinzu, this haori is light weight and is very softly ‘tailored', so it is very comfortable to wear - a great contrast with hitokoshi chirimen haoris, as I would later discover. The lining glimpsed through the sleeve openings is very enticing and when wearing a haori of this type, you feel that it is definitely the equivalent of the Western black evening jacket.

The first time I wore this haori was for Scrabble night at friends and I hardly knew I had it on - this is one of the characteristics of Japanese clothing - because it wraps, it is incredibly comfortable. One of my friends said I looked like I should be wearing a mortar board, but I remained undeterred. The second time I wore it was to a party at a restaurant and I felt equally comfortable and was more heartened by several people commenting how pretty it was.

Over the past few years I've worn this haori a lot for evening, mainly over black knitted pants, black silk pants or a long black velvet skirt. It remains one of my favourites.