Where I Landed

Exactly one year ago, my daughter had her elementary school graduation ceremony.

Six months prior, I had received several kimonos from my mother-in-law. Having long admired kimonos, I planned to wear one of them to the graduation.

Knowing I would need help with dressing and hair styling if I were to wear a kimono, I made an early reservation at my regular hair salon.
Although I had the kimono, I lacked accessories like the obi-age (sash bustle) and obi-jime (sash cord), so I searched for a nearby kimono shop to find items that would match the one I intended to wear. I found a shop that looked promising after checking its website.
The exterior of the shop didn't look like a traditional kimono store, and the items on display seemed quite stylish and modern. Even though I thought, "This is it!", I couldn't deny that it felt a bit intimidating.

After three days of hesitation, I told myself, "There's no point in just thinking about it, I'll just go!" and drove there.
When I nervously stepped into the shop saying, "Hello...", a refined lady in a kimono greeted me with a smile. In that moment, the thought, "I really am in the wrong place..." raced through my mind, but I couldn't turn back, so I explained what I needed and was shown to a room in the back.
I showed her a photo of the kimono and explained that I was looking for an obi-age and obi-jime to match it. We looked at what the shop had and compared them to the photo, but I couldn't quite get a clear image. We decided it would be better to match them with the actual garment, so I arranged to visit again later.

Two days later, I visited again, this time bringing the kimono and obi with me.
I took the kimono and obi out of their paper wrapping to show her and tried matching them with various obi-age and obi-jime. After trying several combinations with advice from the shop owner, we finally made a decision, and I tried the kimono on over my clothes. Seeing this, the lady looked thoughtful and said, "Oh, this isn't a visiting kimono (houmongi), it's a colored formal kimono (iro-tomesode). It's a bit too formal for a graduation ceremony..." Having very little knowledge of kimonos, I told her, "In that case, I'll bring all the kimonos I have," and immediately returned home to bring the entire kimono case back to the shop.

She looked at all of my kimonos, but I only had black formal kimonos (kuro-tomesode) for weddings or casual kimonos (komon) for light outings, and nothing suitable for a graduation ceremony.
Just as I was about to give up and think, "It can't be helped this time," the lady offered me a refined, pale green kimono, asking, "Would you like to try this on?"
When I put it on, the size was perfect, and I thought it suited me quite well. I learned that it was something she used to rent out. I was deeply touched when she said, "It would be such a shame if you couldn't wear a kimono after coming all this way wanting to wear one, so please, I'll lend it to you if you'd like."

On the day of the graduation, it had been a six-year journey with many ups and downs, but I think the reason I was able to face the day with such a bright spirit was partly due to the exhilaration of being able to attend in a kimono.

A year has passed since then, and I have learned how to dress myself in a kimono and have gradually increased my knowledge. I've made kimono-loving friends, and the lady's shop has become a comfortable place for me.

What I found after taking that leap were many wonderful encounters and a version of myself with a smile I never could have imagined.