(This post carries a whiff of 'doctoral dissertation' so you might want to pause here long enough to grab a beer, brew a pot of coffee, or heat up a flagon of sake. Don't say I didn't warn you.)
Throughout Japan on November 15 - or the nearest Sunday - boys ages 3 and 5 and girls ages 3 and 7 are dressed in kimono and taken to Shinto shrines by their elders to express thanks and pray for their future. This is a milestone for Japanese children and commemorated with studio portraits, perhaps a little like a First Communion for 7-year old Roman Catholics.
Our hosts had decorated the vast living room with photographs of themselves and their children decked out in their Shichi-go-san finery. Some of the outfits seen in the pictures were displayed on nearby walls.
Hisayo's daughter (now a young adult) wore this kimono and matching jacket when she was three years old.
A 7-year old girl wore this outfit.
This is what a 5-year old boy wears. (I bought a pair of those pants at a recycle sale two years ago and am still working up the nerve to wear them in public. Maybe I need to come up with a new contest . . .).
Having taught us everything they know about Shichi-go-san, our hosts herded us outdoors for a group picture coordinated by a Japanese Navy photographer. As we exited Tadodai House at the conclusion of the program two hours later, we were each handed a copy of the photograph he took. (The turnaround time for pictures taken by official U.S. government photographers, back in 2003 at least, was about five months. In case you were wondering.)
Chigusa, who is a professional hairdresser like her mother before her, showed us how those "Geisha hairstyles" are created. Sally served as Chigusa's model. I thought it would be fun to see how Sally looked with a Sumo wrestler hairdo. Chigusa was having none of that nonsense.
One Japanese friend performed a dance that was simply amazing. Her single prop, a fan, was transformed right before our eyes into a river, a writing desk, a moon, and a badminton racquet I swear was so realistic I thought I heard a thwack followed by the swoosh of a birdie sailing over a net.I've read about these story-telling dancers in books and, frankly, thought I'd have a problem maintaining a straight face. Instead, I was totally mesmerized. This could be a fun thing to learn. The pantomime part is right up my alley. The fan, alas, is not.
When fans were distributed to the Americans and we were encouraged to imitate our teacher's smooth moves, tosses, and one-handed catches, my fan invariably ended up on the floor. (This might not come as much of a surprise to anyone who knew me during my five-minute career as a baton-twirler.)
Fans are not just for telling stories and creating a personal breeze. You can also use fans to play a game similar to horseshoes.Then it was off to the tatami room in the Japanese part of the house. We talked about the differences between the various types of kimono on display and then watched the Japanese ladies tie Sally and another young American into traditional attire. Kimono dressing involves a lot of cord-tugging, like that scene in Gone With the Wind when Scarlett is getting laced into a corset.
Some of the kimono have names I hope to be able to use in everyday conversation.
A Mother-of-the-Bride kimono.
An "I'm Single and Available" kimono.
A bride's kimono.
Then we ate lunch, then we came home, then I realized my tote bag (and car keys) were in the back seat of a van that had just exited the parking lot. This gave me the opportunity to use the name of one variety of kimono in an expletive form.
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