We, the Machines | On the Obsession and Desires of a Certain Tailor

I want to become a machine.

One of those machines that runs on power.
That doesn't mean just any machine will do. I want to be a machine that makes thread or fabric. Those big, clanking, hardworking, lovable machines. Textile machines are cute.Textile machines are cute.

I wouldn't go so far as to say it has to be a steam engine, but I wish they were all connected by a single motor. That feeling of the machines being connected to one great, singular force.

Before I knew it, I had spent my whole career working with clothes. If you include my previous job in apparel product planning, it's been over 30 years now. Currently, I work making wedding dresses.

Because of my line of work, I've seen many textile machines. But it was only recently that I started thinking, "Machines that make fabric are cute." That started after I began going on learning journeys to visit fabric sites all over the country, which I call "Ito-hen Journeys." "Ito-hen" literally refers to the radical for kanji related to thread, but it also actually means the "textile industry."

While going on those "Ito-hen Journeys," a "question" was born within me. Wanting to unravel it, I ended up doing research at a correspondence graduate school.

Who would have thought that an "Ito-hen Journey" started on a whim would develop into research? 2025 became a year of struggling to compile that learning into the form of a "thesis."

3 Cute Textile Machines Chosen by a Dressmaker

Now, suddenly, here is my personal top 3!

Titled "3 Cute Machines Chosen by a Dressmaker"

Kurume Kasuri Loom

First, the Kurume Kasuri looms I saw at "Shimogawa Orimono" in Yame City, Fukuoka Prefecture.

When I entered the factory, there was a loud clanking sound and the somewhat nostalgic smell of machine oil. The machines, all connected to a single motor, were busily weaving beautiful Kasuri fabric. How beautiful and reliable they are.

Old machines were lined up in the factory. There was even an old TOYOTA loom. It is said that Japan's modernization and the automotive industry originally started from machines that wove fabric.

The third-generation owner I spoke with, Kyozo Shimogawa, said he grew up being carried on his grandmother's back since he was small, with the sound of the machines as his lullaby. That's why even now, he can tell when a machine's screw is loose just by the vibration in the air.

When I heard that, I felt envious. To grow up with machines and be able to understand their voices.

Machines in the Opening and Scutching Process

Next, I would like to introduce the machines for the opening and scutching process at the Toyota Commemorative Museum of Industry and Technology. These are clever machines that loosen clumps of cotton and perform the preliminary preparations until it becomes thread.

This series of machines, right down to the pulleys and gears, is unified in a classic color scheme of blue-gray with gold trim, making them very stylish.

This clockwork feel is exactly the world view of steampunk, inspired by the Industrial Revolution (Victorian era) of the late 19th century. Especially, look, isn't that little window for viewing the cotton just like something out of a near-future sci-fi movie?

Wooden machines at the Hataya Memorial Museum

The last ones I'd like to introduce are the wooden machines at the Hataya Memorial Museum, which was created from a former silk weaving factory in Katsuyama City, Fukui Prefecture.

Here, the thread-winding machines and tools are all made of wood, and they were very beautiful. Hardworking, beautiful machines.

Pure white silk thread is wound onto wooden frames, and they are in motion. The sound of the wooden thread-winding machines turning, a clattering and creaking, echoes throughout the entire factory.

They were like beloved living creatures with the purpose of 'creating beautiful silk fabrics.'

The thread wound onto wooden frames by the thread-winding machine is then lined up on a tiered stand, with only the warp threads that have been starched.

This thread is connected to a large machine. It is a machine that winds the warp threads to match the width of the fabric.

The wooden machines, along with the feel of the gears and motors, are irresistible to steampunk fans. Screws, gears, wooden machines—I find them all萌え (moe) in their own way.

These machines are powered by a single motor. It is said that in the past, a waterwheel was used to operate the motor.

They really are like a single living creature.

Being here, it felt like I was inside the belly of a giant clockwork dinosaur, and I felt enchanted.

The sewing machine and I

I have introduced many machines, but the machine I love and trust most of all is, without a doubt, the sewing machine.

The sewing machine and I are connected.

If it's not working well, I can tell by the sound. I know when the bobbin thread runs out, when the needle is getting worn down, and when it needs oil. I can also tell immediately when it's struggling with a certain fabric. It's easy to understand. At times like that, I renew our bond, thinking, 'Let's do our best together.'

It no longer feels like we are in separate categories of 'machine' and 'human.'

We are one.

Transcending the distinction between machine and human, we become clockwork creatures with a single will: 'to create a beautiful dress.'

Thinking about it that way, I feel enchanted.

Well, that's just a delusion I have when I'm busy, though.