Considering how popular my post about repairing my 90-year-old fireman jacket is, it's been missed opportunity not making one about my very first indigo darling:
If I can't be a show-off when I'm alone in my studio, then what's the point of dressing up?
Yes, there's my vicious cycle of laziness and overthinking whenever I have an idea for a new article. But truth is: I haven't worn this kimono in over a year!
First there was lockdown; then it was Summer and it was too hot; then it got cold and I just wanted to be in fleecy pyjama pants all day, then lockdown again...
I don't know, I wasn't in the kimono mood, at least not my antiques since they're heavy, they're fragile, they require proper manners even when I wear them as jackets.
But all this practicality - fuelled not just by laziness, but also by necessity - was making me loose something way too important: I was losing that special affection for clothes.
Come to think about it, does anything beautiful works like that: you just get it and then you never have to care for it?
So I chose to do all this upkeep as a ritual: I'm not a vintage textile expert, neither did I grow up wearing kimonos
, but maintaining the ones I have connects me to my craft and a heritage that's just in my family's DNA after a hundred-something years of emigrating to Brazil.
I believe my ancestors would be okay with that, maybe they'll visit me in a dream. Maybe they'll tease me about not wearing it right, cause cheekiness is in our blood.
Keep the things that matter closer to your heart
If you got this far, I guess you like my stories :)
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