Muromachi kosode

I belong to the Society for Creative Anachronism, a historical reenactment society that covers all places and periods up to 1600 CE. In this area, almost no one does anything Japanese. I know one guy who has a Japanese persona, and have seen two women wandering around events in modern kimono–very pretty, but it’s like wearing your prom dress in a Shakespeare play. So I’ve decided to experiment with putting together a late 16th century kosode ensemble following the instructions in this excellent tutorial: http://www.wodefordhall.com/kosode.htm

Over the weekend I bought the fabric, and last night I started sewing. Issues I’ve already run into:

Finding the right fabric. In the 16th century, no print was too large or too loud. NOT ENOUGH RED, they would say. MAKE IT MORE RED. BUT IT’S ALREADY ENTIRELY RED, you say, I CAN’T MAKE IT ANY REDDER. THEN ADD ORANGE AND GOLD UNTIL THE RED POPS SO MUCH IT PUNCHES YOU IN THE EYE, they reply. WHAT, YOU MEAN, LIKE, GOLD-COLORED FABRIC? you reply. LOL NO, WHAT ARE YOU, POOR? ADD REAL GOLD, they say. So you do. And then you add a lining of another color and an obi in a clashing color, and you’re almost fit to be seen in public.

The patterns on modern clothing-weight fabrics are usually way too small. The large patterns arealmost large enough to be small 16th-century patterns. And once modern patterns get that large, they’re usually either in a glaringly non-Japanese style, or designed to appeal to 8-year-olds and printed in acid colors that 16th-century Japanese people would have adored if they could produce them, which they couldn’t. The only pattern that’s consistently acceptable is stripes, which in the 16th century were horizontal, so just… no. The upholstery section, OTOH, is full of patterns and colors that would work… if they weren’t on canvas or tapestry.

I settled on a batik cotton with a brown-and-russet ground, covered with a hand-stamped pattern of leafy spirals. The lining will be flame-orange cotton with irregular dots of aquamarine, because matching is for yabo. The fabric isn’t even vaguely Japanese, especially with the mottled background, but the largeish hand-stamped pattern has the same organic quality of some of the Edo-period ukiyo-e prints I admire. The obi is a slate-blue batik cotton stamped with abstract blue patterns.

My reasoning is that if I like the look, this kosode will be the underrobe, and the peek of fabric that will be visible around the edges will be good enough to pass. I’ll find proper fabric for the overrobe. OTOH, if I decide the kosode makes me look like a poorly stuffed mound of laundry, I’ll use it as a bathrobe, and the pattern has to be something I like on its own.

Muromachi kosode are voluminous. The panels are 16″ or 17″, not the modern 14″, and the body uses the entire width of the fabric. The sleeves are little tacked-on things maybe 9″ from shoulder seam to cuff, with 18″ or less of hang. The obi doesn’t absorb much of this excess volume because it’s only 3″ wide. I tried the kosode on last night after I had the body assembled, and I’m no sylph, but dang, that’s a lot of extra everything. And yet…

I can’t walk in it. All the extra fabric was folded across the front, leaving the back hem snugging up to my ankles. I’ve never had a garment try to trip me from behind before. Help me, kimono-wearers! What am I doing wrong?

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