The Bride's Kimono Read Online Free Page B

Japanese, I did what I always do in such situations: photocopy, and arrange for translation later, on my own time. The slides were easier for me to appreciate. The tea merchant’s family had a vast assortment ofkimono that seemed to range in age from early nineteenth century to the 1920s. It was the early-nineteenth-century robes that I was interested in, and as I’d suspected, a number of them had images that would have been appropriate for a courtesan to wear: in addition to exquisite florals, there were vistas of teahouses and symbols of an incense-smelling game. These were not the kimono of a typical housewife—not even a rich one. I had a sense of the kind of woman they might have belonged to, but it would take a bit of independent research before I could confirm this fact for myself.
    The last slide I looked at was that of the uchikake I’d heard about. It was a scarlet silk satin robe decorated with pairs of mandarin ducks diving through a pond that rippled with tie-dyed shibori droplets of water. Blossoming cherry trees created with meticulous embroidery added to the charming picture. This kimono was not as grandly decadent as some Mr. Shima had shown me, but it was sweet, romantic, and amusing. It would serve beautifully as the highlight for my talk.
    “Mr. Shima says for you to return to the conference room. He has retrieved the uchikake you were waiting to view,” the library clerk said after I’d been looking at things for about a half hour.
    So he’d done it himself, and not waited for Mr. Nishio. That was kind, I thought, hurrying back to the office.
    Mr. Shima already had the bridal kimono spread out on the table when I went in. I saw him before he saw me; he was bent over, studying the fabric. I could see tension on his face for the first time that day, and a ripple of nervousness went through me. Maybe the kimono was damaged or fragile. Every single stain, break in a fiber, loose stitch, crease, spot, snag, or tear would be documented—and I’d be responsible to see that therewas not a single bit of extra damage. If the kimono was in bad shape to begin with, it would make the likelihood of my getting to travel with it quite slim.
    I coughed slightly so he would know I was there.
    “Here you are, Miss Shimura. Interesting—I haven’t looked at this robe for quite a few years.”
    I stood next to him and gazed down. Examining the robe in full, I could appreciate the details even more. The ducks were diving, playing, and flying over the water—almost all of them in pairs. Now I remembered the significance of mandarin ducks: they were symbols of marriage. That, paired with the good luck present in the cherry blossoms, made this a very auspicious robe for a woman to wear at a wedding. The condition looked excellent—colors were faded, here and there, but the stitches looked intact, and I didn’t see stains or any other obvious signs of damage.
    “It’s very special,” I said. “It gives me a feeling for the romanticism, and the joy the woman marrying the tea merchant must have felt when she wore it.”
    “We really can guess nothing of emotion,” Mr. Shima said. “And in my opinion, it’s a fine example, but not nearly as fine as some of the other garments.”
    “You know so much about textiles themselves, Shima-san. You could be more than a registrar, neh? Perhaps a museum director, someday,” I said, flattering him. It was true that he was more forthcoming, and perhaps even more knowledgeable, about textiles than Mr. Nishio.
    “It is kind of you to say, but my training is incomplete in that area,” he answered, but I could see he’d been pleased by my compliment.
    “I’m sure you’ve also noticed that an uchikake is the one thing that’s missing from the group of kimono I’ll take to America. If I could bring this bridal kimono, itwould perfectly illustrate the life cycle of a family of women in Edo-period Japan.”
    Mr. Shima looked at me as if I’d said something shocking.