Why kimono now ?

There are fabrics that are simply made to be worn.
And then, there are fabrics created for something more.

Kimono belongs to the latter.

For centuries in Japan, kimono were not everyday clothing in the modern sense.
They were garments prepared for moments that carried meaning —
a wedding, a ceremony, a transition in life.

Each piece was made with intention.
Threads woven not only for beauty, but for symbolism, for wishes, for quiet prayers.

And yet, many of these textiles are now left unseen.
Carefully folded, stored away, or passed on without a place in today’s life.

I often wonder —
what happens to beauty when it is no longer used?

To me, these fabrics do not feel like something that has “finished its role.”
They feel as though they are waiting.

Waiting for a new context.
Waiting to be seen again.
Waiting to exist, not in storage, but in daily life.

This is where my work begins.

I do not see kimono as something to preserve unchanged.
Nor do I see them as materials to simply cut and reshape.

I see them as stories.

Stories that once belonged to a specific moment in time,
now finding their way into a different kind of life.

From ceremony to everyday.

Not to replace their past,
but to quietly continue it.