À la recherche du temps perdu / Arimatsu-Narumi Shibori Yukata and Japanese Tailoring Culture | Early Showa Cotton Indigo

An everyday shibori yukata worn by my grandmother, carrying time through washing.

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In the early Shōwa period, my grandmother wore this yukata.From the early Meiji era onward, chemical dyes became widespread, and labor-intensive natural indigo gradually declined. This piece is no exception. A deep navy dyed with synthetic pigments. Not a garment for outings, but everyday wear. She put it on after her bath.

Around the collar was an astonishingly thick cotton sweat guard — something unimaginable today. It was truly part of daily life.

Cotton yukata became common among townspeople in the late Edo period. Cotton and indigo were an ideal pairing: durable, washable, suited to summer. Silk was a dream fabric. For ordinary people, clothing meant hemp or cotton. By adding the technique of shibori (tie-dye resist), artisans introduced both beauty and a visible sign of labor — pride embedded in cloth.

Why is shibori so often associated with yukata?

The most celebrated example is Arimatsu-Narumi shibori. In the Edo period, travelers along the Tōkaidō road purchased tie-dyed hand towels there. Records at the Takeda Kahei Shoten note that Tokugawa Iemochi once bought shibori as a gift for his wife, Princess Kazu, on her return to Kyoto. The technique itself dates back to ancient Yamato times.

When wearing a shibori yukata, the skin feels its subtle texture. Air flows between body and cloth. In Japan’s humid summer, it does not cling. This is one practical reason.

But there is more.

For a garment worn only in a limited season, artisans bind the fabric knot by knot, forming intricate patterns — as if absorbing each drop of sweat. What extraordinary devotion for summer clothing.

In Arimatsu-Narumi production, one artisan masters one technique. If a piece combines four techniques, four specialists are involved. A collective artwork.

Japanese tailoring is designed to be undone and remade. Garments are unstitched, washed, and sewn again. Because they are cut in straight lines, their form does not change. A design one hundred years old never becomes obsolete.

Shibori gradually flattens with repeated washing. What seems like deterioration is, in fact, evidence of love over time.

When I put it on, I connect to the time my grandmother loved.

That is why I will not stop. À la recherche du temps perdu — Structure of Clothing, ongoing

When worn again, the garment does not return to the past. It continues forward, carrying every moment it has lived.

You may never wear a kimono.

But you can wear the art of Wasai.

Discover the pieces that continue this journey →