The Bride's Kimono Read Online Free Page A

a pattern of books. “A woman’s juban, ” I said. “Not many have survived, so this is really special. First half of the nineteenth century?”
    “Why do you think that it belonged to a woman?” Mr. Shima asked me.
    I didn’t have a good answer for this, because although the books on the robe were dyed in attractive greens and purples, these colors could be worn by men as well as women. “The writing on the kimono is in hiragana . In the Edo period, not all women read kanji characters.”
    Mr. Nishio cleared his throat and said, “This juban, and the orchid-patterned kimono, were worn by Ryohei Tokugawa’s wife.”
    I knew, of course, about the Tokugawa clan, which was the last family dynasty that ruled Japan as Shoguns. But I hadn’t heard of Ryohei Tokugawa. There was no point in hiding my ignorance. “Are you talking about one of the Shogun’s relations?”
    “Yes, a cousin to Yoshinobu—the last Shogun,” Mr. Nishio added pointedly, as if I might not know.
    “Do you have a lot of Ryohei’s wife’s clothing?”
    “Some of it. Many kimono were given away to her courtiers. We have a full description in this diary photocopy we have prepared for you.”
    Photocopies that I’d have to have translated because my kanji knowledge was so poor, I thought ruefully. “If it’s not too much trouble—could you talk about this as we go along?”
    “Yes, please tell her. The lecture will only go more smoothly,” Mr. Shima said to his colleague.
    In a halting voice, as if he really couldn’t bear to share any secrets with me, Mr. Nishio talked. He showed me the various tiny places that showed signs of age and fragility on a formal black kimono with the Tokugawa crest, and the ancient soy-sauce stain on a girl-child’s kimono that was embroidered with cherry blossoms. It was believed that the girl who’d worn the kimono might have been the child of Ryohei and his wife.
    We moved on from the Tokugawa kimono to some others, which, I found to my surprise, were even lovelier. I sighed over a cool blue furisode patterned with images of palace curtains, and another striking long-sleeved robe dyed and embroidered with streams, flowers, and pavilions upon which rested bamboo cages holding crickets—the era’s favorite musical performers. Mr. Nishio said that these kimono came from the same source—a tea merchant’s wife who was alive at the same time as Mrs. Ryohei Tokugawa.
    It seemed bizarre to me that the more splendid kimono belonged to a tea merchant’s wife, not to the wife who was part of the Shogun’s family. I wanted to get the translations of the photocopies done so I could read them for myself.
    “Do you know the tea merchant’s name?” I asked.
    “Otani.” Mr. Shima mentioned one of the most common names in Japan. “The Otani heirs donated quite a collection, including a splendid uchikake we can guess Mrs. Otani wore at her own wedding.”
    “What a gorgeous piece that must be,” I said, wanting to hear more.
    “Yes. The Otanis became poor during the war, so they sold their collection of family textiles to an American officer living here during the occupation years. That American sold the kimono to our museum in the 1960s.”
    I paused. An idea was growing, but I was hesitant to express the whole thing before I’d thought it through. “If it’s not too much trouble, I would like to see the rest of the Otani collection. I’d like to learn as much as I can before speaking to Americans about your holdings.”
    Mr. Shima raised his eyebrows. “It would be easier for the library staff to show you the slides first; then, if you’re still interested, I shall bring the robe.”
    “That sounds fine.” I was glad for the chance to study something on my own, without either of the men standing like a black cloud over my shoulder.
    Inside the museum’s small library, a studious-looking young woman brought slides and accompanying notes to me within a few minutes. Since everything was all written in