The Blonde Geisha KIMONO

Geisha spend hours getting ready to entertain at banquets. How do they put their kimonos together?

Like Hatsumomo in "Memoirs of a Geisha," they have a male "dresser" fit their elaborate kimono on them because the process requires great strength.

I studied the art of kimono with a sensei, teacher, whose family has been in the kimono business in Kyoto for many years.

Here are the basic steps to wearing kimono:

Dressing up like a geisha in kimono is a lot of fun and also an art. There are no safety pins, zippers, or buttons. It's all done with long silken ties and a lot of maneuvering.

It's performed like a ceremony, as in the drinking of tea, and requires certain steps that must be followed precisely to achieve the desired effect.

Here I am wearing my kimono underwear, nagajuban; to my left are my ties, cummerbunds, and obi, sash.

I was the only gaijin or foreigner in the class and my sensei was constantly amused at my desire to be more daring and wear my kimono like a geisha (e.g., geisha wear their obi or sash slung low over the hips).

The back of the neck is considered to be a woman's most erotic feature and geisha wear their collars very low in the back, like Western women wear cleavage. Japanese women in years past, including geisha, didn't wear underwear with their kimono (no panty lines).

Kimono and all the pieces that go with it can be quite expensive. An obi or sash can cost anywhere from a few hundred to a few thousand dollars, not to mention the kimono itself.

When I was studying kimono, I couldn't afford the obi (average price: $1,500 at that time in the school), so I bought remnants of kimono fabric (beautifully embroidered satin and silk pieces) and made my own obi (with cho cho, butterfly, back view).

My sensei found this very disturbing since it was against tradition. She said nothing until I was about to graduate and make my first public appearance in kimono.

I'll never forget how sensei insisted on checking me over, fixing my collar, making sure my waist cord was tied perfectly, then she told me that though it was not considered proper to make your own obi, it was okay for me to do so because I was a Westerner. In that way, she decided, the school would not lose face.

This is how the kimono looks before it is pulled, tugged, and fastened into place with many ties, cummerbunds, and folds.

A kimono is "one size fits all." The length and width are adjusted by the wearer; when it's washed, it's taken apart and re-sewn (the parallel seams are basted and hand-sewn).

There are different sleeve styles (the longer the sleeves, the younger the wearer), and colors for different seasons in a woman's life.

Here I'm wearing a formal black kimono with family crests (kamon) on the sleeves and back. (A geisha's formal kimono is called desho, meaning "going out wear.")

We all like to think of Japan as a fairy-tale land with geishas standing on arched bridges, holding paper parasols and with delicate flowers in their hair. As you can see, learning to wear kimono requires illusion. It is often the illusion that pleases most in the art of seduction.

When you study kimono, you learn the difference between illusion and reality. That's what makes you strong and resilient, and flexible like the bamboo that bends in the wind.

And sexy.

Photo: Mike Elderman

Here I am wearing my formal kimono with all the pieces carefully fastened into place. You can see my cho cho, butterfly, in the back. This isn't worn with this type of kimono as a rule. [I wore this kimono as a costume for a show rather than as a representation of traditional kimono.]

The obi, sash, can be styled in the back in many different shapes, including taiko, drum. [not shown]

I'm holding a paper fan with a red and gold design. You never let your thumb show when you're holding a fan. (I often made this mistake--my sensei gently remind with a hand gesture until I learned.)

In my hair are kanzashi, pink "rice" ornaments and silver pins, though the ones geisha wear are more styliized; mine are a smaller version.

Learning to wear kimono taught me more than how to wear the elegant garment with grace. I also learned about the art of seduction.

The first stage is learning about what's inside or underneath our outer layer, who we are; how to put everything together in our lives, making mistakes, then trying again.

Next, fastening the outer garment and its accessories. That's the part of our lives when we push forward with trying to find that special man. Trying to make it all come together without falling apart. It's quite a trick. And rewarding, too.

And lastly, when we've found that special man, we're ready to go forward with the rest of our lives with the confidence that we do know the art of seduction.

Best,
Jina