Dyed Again: Yuzen-zome with the Shonan Ladies

Last week it was shibori in my back yard, this week it was yuzen-zome high on a hill above Kamakura. No, I am not pursuing a graduate degree in textile dyeing. I'm just a girl who likes to have fun.

Izumi and Reiko took the Shonan Ladies to Mr. Haruki's charming studio a few doors down from Rin Rin Chinese restaurant. Mr. Haruki designs and paints fabric that is stitched into one-of-a-kind $40,000 kimono. He spends three years on each of his creations so this is not a terribly lucrative craft but Haruki-san does not seem to regret his career choice. On the contrary, he struck me as a walking advertisement for one of the most thought-provoking books I've read this year, Shop Class as Soulcraft: An Inquiry into the Value of Work. How much more satisfying it must be to shepherd a project from idea to finished product than to be a replaceable-every-two-years cog in the U.S. military machine.


Each kimono panel features Haruki's original drawings. He brought out a box of drawings used on previous kimono and let each of us select one as a memento of our visit. Some favored sketches of bamboo, plum branches, camellias, onions, and peonies but I chose irises to remind me of both my day at Haruki's studio and my day with Maeve and Jen at Shomyo-ji. Efficiently sentimental, if I do say so myself.


After Haruki completes his drawings and sketches them on a paper pattern, he paints them on silk panels coated with a paste of mashed soy beans that heightens the effect of the dye. There's really no way to ignore the amazing versatility of soy beans in this part of the world.

Upstairs, Meagan tried on a kimono-in-process and we met the adorable Mrs. Haruki who was sporting a jaunty beige beret and a handknit checkerboard vest similar to her husband's. Between Haruki's white hair - a rare sight in Japan - and that beret, I nearly drowned in a tsunami of nostalgia. If you're wondering why, please contact my prematurely grey brother and the third of his adoring goddaughters. I'm much too choked up right now to attempt an explanation.

Exploring Recycled Kimono and Obis

Twice a year, in the spring and fall, the community center near Yokohama station hosts a recycled kimono sale. Used kimono and obis are dirt cheap, and old kimono deemed unfit for resale are cut into strips and sold as fabric for craft projects.

If you want to get the attention of a certain category of Navy spouse, just stand in the center of a commissary parking lot and yell, "Kimono! Obi! Fabric!" Add "Dirt cheap!" and they'll follow you anywhere. Like a herd of stampeding buffalo so be sure to stay on your toes.

The sale begins at 10:00 am but we were standing in line by 8:45 to get entry numbers. Only the first 100 customers are allowed to enter the sale room when the doors open. As the sale progresses, smaller groups are admitted every fifteen minutes.

After landing numbers in the upper twenties, we had time for coffee before reassembling in our original order. We were as giddy as a troop of Girl Scouts on their first trip to Disney World.

Katie demonstrated the various properties of her Amazing Tote Bag for the ladies behind her while I showed a pair of sneaky ladies who were trying to edge in ahead of me the quickest route to the back of the line. They were trying to pull the old "I will chat with my good friend who is standing in front of you and then just slip through the door behind her" trick but I made my point by tapping on a shoulder and flicking my thumb toward the back of the room. If they had not immediately scurried back to their proper places in line, I was prepared to try my throat-slitting pantomime.

My role in this expedition was simply to get my companions to the community center and show them the ropes once we arrived. I was certainly not interested in buying any kimono or obis - I still haven't figured out what to do with the stuff I bought two years ago - but standing around watching other people fondle textiles is not my idea of fun so before long I was pawing through fabric scraps and stuffing the more delectable finds into my trash bag.

Still, I left Yokohama only $18 poorer and that's certainly less than any of my pals can say.