Haori Girlie

Silk dupioni? Sews like champ. Silk charmeuse? Fussy. But drapes like a dream. Denim? Ol’ reliable.

It’s always a process. And no two are ever alike.

That’s really the whole point, I think. All these little pieces tying together to form the finished project.

All for people to ask in the end, “Can you sew this for me?”.

The answer is no, but I digress.

I’m not entirely sure why I sew and paint kimono haoris so often. My closet, currently holding 46 and counting of said creations, also waits for an explanation.

Kimono. The Japanese word for garment. Literally translated means “thing to wear”.

But for Westerners, we usually associate the word with the long, beautiful overlapping robe style dress worn by elegant Japanese women.

Or with the bohemian shawl jacket things worn by festival goers at Burning Man. Peep that fringe and floppy hat, bruh.

So technically, I make haoris. A traditional Japanese jacket, loose fitting with square sleeves. But, no one has any idea what I’m talking about when I say ‘haori’. So I say it’s a kimono. Hopefully that won’t cause issues down the road, fingers crossed. Thankfully, most seem to be pretty cool with it so far.

Back to my story.

Blame it on all the anime watched as a kid. My nerdy interest in other cultures and their traditional clothing. Or maybe some latent weaboo-ness bubbling up.

Growing up, a close family friend, who was like an aunt, was Japanese. She very kindly taught us kids so much about her culture. A talented singer, piano player, artist and drop dead gorgeous to boot. Even to this day, she’s a Queen. Asian doesn’t age, as she jokes.

For special occasions, she would wear a furisode, a type of formal kimono. It was a treat to see her so dressed up. She would explain the subtleties of the colors and patterns. The meanings and levels of formality for each. Great memories. The beauty of the furisode kimono was from then on, imprinted on my teensy, gaijin Latinx brain.

It was fascinating for a small kid to see a culture so distinct from my own. Learning more about the culture, I learned more about her. Her background was rich, complicated and colorful. But she was still just a person? Who did regular normal stuff too, like other people? Shocking, I know.

And that is how fashion closed the gap betwixt a skinny Hispanic child and graceful, elegant Japanese honorary ‘Tia’ many moons ago.

This introduction to Japanese art and clothing would later unconsciously influence my own catalog of visual work. As I was searching for my visual voice, I noticed that I illustrated in a style that blended both East and West.

Somewhere in the middle of American and Japanese. ( With some Texan, Tex-Mex and España flavors thrown in. Lest my Grandparents feel snubbed, and smack me.)

My work included both visual art and fashion. Both an art in my mind, but up until fairly recently didn’t do much mixin’. A clear divide between the two existed. One side, goth. And one side, punk. And the two rarely interact, according to teen movies.

So, began the question. What would happen if you mixed both together? Blended the classic Americana with the traditional Japanese? Enter the haori.

I decided to make a haori jacket, out of denim. Crop it, and paint a design on the back with my own art style. My bookworm self takes it a step further, by assigning back stories and characters to each jacket. All original ones, of course. Because I’m so “cool”.

They aren’t authentically either American or Japanese. The silhouette. The painted design. The look. It all feels familiar. But it’s new. To some, it’s a fresh take on existing aesthetics.

To others, a Frankenstein fusion, of which I should be ashamed of myself.

Though mostly, I get a “Hey, that’s pretty cool. Can you make me one for free?”

I recognize it’s just a jacket at first glance. And that’s fine.

But for an artistic freak with her head in the clouds, it means so much more.

It’s a bridge between two polar opposites. A new creation, creating a neutral ground to examine the roots of both. East and West. Art and Fashion.

It’s a creative process, where you are able to contribute some good energy back into the world.

The intolerance fades away. Your inner darkness, insecurity and problems don’t exist in this space. A new positive force takes over.

You take them scissors, grab an unorthodox fabric, and cut through the cloth like buttah.

And in those moments, only happiness is allowed. Naïve childhood memories. Japanese Aunties. A desire to connect with people in a good way.

And in the midst of a hateful world, everything is going to be ok.