“…I turned to find myself looking into the entryway of another okyia. On a shelf inside the door sat a miniature Shinto shrine with an offering of a sweet-rice cake. I wondered if this could be whar Pumpkin had seen; but her eyes were pointed toward the ground…”
Archivi tag: photo
Shijo Avenue and Narrow Street in Gion
“…We had reached Shijo Avenue by now and crossed it in silence. This was the same avenue that had been so crowded the day Mr. Bekku had brought Satsu and me from the station. Now so early in the morning, I could see only a single streetcar in the distance and a few bicylists here and there. When we reached the other side, we continued up a narrow street, and then Pumpkin stopped for the first time since we’d left the okiya…”
Memoirs of a Geisha
“China Clay”
“…I almost fekt sick the first time she unfastened her robe and pulled it down from her shoulders, because the skin there and on her neck was bumpy and yellow like an uncooked chickens’s. The problem, as I later learned, was that in her geisha days she’d used a kind of white makeup we call “China Clay”, made with a base of lead. China Clay turned out to be poisonous, to begin with, which probably accounted in part for Granny’s foul disposition…”
Memoirs of a Geisha
Traditional KISERU Smoking Pipe
“…I felt certain she was going to say something more to me after I’d approached her, but instead she took from her obi, where she kept it tucked, a pipe with a metal bowl and a long stem made of bamboo. She set it down beside her on the walkway and then brought from the pocket of her sleeve a drawstring bag of silk, from which she removed a big pinch of tobacco. She packed the tobacco with her little finger, stained the burnt orange color of a roasted yam, and then put the pipe into her mouth and lit it with a match from a tiny metal box…”
“…Whenever she put her pipe down onto the table with a click, flecks of ash and tobacco flew out of it, and she left them wherever they lay…”
Memoirs of a Geisha
Okiya and its mysteries
“…The buildings in the courtyard, though they gave the impression of another group of tiny houses, were just a small shed for the toilets and a storehouse of two levels with a ladder on the outside…”
“…But here the wood floors and beams gleamed with the yellow light of electric lamps. Opening off the front hallway were sliding doors with paper screens, as well as a staircase that seemed to climb straight up…”
Memoirs of a Geisha
Shimada (hairstyle)
Minamiza Theater
The magic of rickshaws
“… Back then, around 1930, a fair number of rickshaws still operated in Kyoto. In fact, so many were lined up before the station that I imagined no one went anywhere in this big city unless it was in a rickshaw – which couldn’t have been further from the truth…”
“… We climbed into a rickshaw, with Mr. Bekku squeezed tightly on the bench between us. he was a good deal bonier under that kimono even than I suspected. We pitched back as driver raised the poles, and then Mr. Bekku said : Tominaga-cho, in Gion…”
Memoirs of a Geisha
Obi Sash – Nishijin
“… Her hair was ornamented with the dangling green bloom of a willow, and she wore a soft pink kimono with white flowers like cutouts all over it. The broad obi tied around her middle was orange and yellow. I’d never seen such elegant clothing…”
“…I had no doubt the gown was woven of pure silk, and so was the obi, embroidered in pale greens and yellows…”
“…Most people who know nothing of kimono seem to think the obi is simply tied in the back as if it were a string; but nothing could be further from the truth. A half dozen cords and clasps are needed to keep it in place, and a certain amount of padding must be used as well to shape the knot. Mr Bekku took several minutes to tie Hatsumomo’s obi…”
Memoirs of Geisha
Zori’s versatility
“… Kuniko’s clothing was much more refined than mine, and she wore zori; but being the village girl I was, I chased her out into the woods barefoot until I caught up to her at a sort of playhouse made from the sawed-off branches of a dead tree…”
“…There on the step of the entryway, just slipping her feet into her lacquered zori, stood an exquisitely beautiful woman wearing a kimono lovelier than anything I’d ever imagined…”
Memoirs of a Geisha