Translator: Mai Iida Reviewer: Toko Takao
What is your hometown like?
Do you really know what it has?
Watari town, Miyagi prefecture.
40 minutes south from Sendai by train.
It's a small town of about 30 thousand people.
It's also famous for its strawberries.
I was born and raised here.
When I started high school in Sendai,
I was surprised at the large buildings and pretty stores,
and I thought, "Watari is so rural!"
Even at school, I couldn't hide my Watari dialect,
so my friends started calling me "Watari girl."
Watari wasn't cool. I wasn't cool.
I didn't like my hometown nor myself that much.
In February 2011, I was a Watari city official.
As a folk museum curator, I was involved in ethnographic research,
and I interviewed people about the history of Watari's kimono culture.
One 80-year-old woman opened her drawer and said,
"When I was about to get married,
my mother made this kimono for me,
sewing and tailoring it using homemade silk.
I don't wear it anymore, but it's still my good-luck charm."
And she showed me her beautiful kimono.
The history of a town famous for its silk industry
and a mother's love of her daughter
both touched my heart, reaching through across time.
But now, no one will wear them.
What will become of these kimonos?
March 11, 2011.
The massive earthquake struck.
The tsunami swept away many lives and precious items,
even that old woman's house and her lucky kimono.
I was in charge of distributing relief supplies.
I was extremely busy every day.
It was then that my father passed away from an illness.
All those years of our lives,
all our sources of joy, like that kimono,
our jobs, our communities, all of that vanished, just like that.
My father was no more than just a memory, and even that fades away day by day.
I can't get them back. I can't blame anyone.
Rationally, I understood all of that.
But I couldn't stifle my feelings.
Everyday, I felt sorrow and anger rise up,
and they weren't going to leave me anytime soon.
I didn't know how to deal with them.
That summer, I returned to my ethnographic research.
I learned that, until the mid-Showa period in Watari,
the clothes that families wore were all made by the town's women.
Sewing was a part of those women's lives.
That was when I visited a farmer's house, and discovered a drawstring bag.
The women of Watari used to use old kimono fabric to make these bags,
put rice inside, and give them to people as gifts.
Even the smallest piece of fabric was preciously sewn and stored,
so that they could share it to express their gratitude at any time.
These pouches had a lining to keep the rice from getting in the seams,
and could be shut firmly with the drawstrings.
They created these bags out of their care for the receiver.
The Japanese word for bag, "fukuro," is "fuguro" in the Watari dialect.
The fuguro taught me a new way of living:
"Show gratitude to people in your daily life."
Until I lost my father after the disaster,
I had taken safety, convenience and health for granted.
Losing them made me realize how grateful we should be to have them.
I thought I could tell my father anytime, so I never bothered to thank him.
Now that I can't see him anymore, and I can't thank him anymore,
I realized how important it is to express your feelings to others.
That's why the story of fuguro deeply moved me.
In the old Watari lifestyle,
there is a way of life worth passing down.
There are so many values buried here.
My faded hometown seemed to glimmer again.
I had found a treasure in an unexpected place.
I wanted to pass down the values of the Watari women.
To do that, I wanted to revive the fuguro in a completely new form,
and send it out into the world.
That's how "FUGURO" was born.
I made the fuguro into a product so that many people could use it,
and thus pass on the story of Watari to a larger audience.
I received kimono fabric from a boutique,
and started sewing with my sister and my friends.
To remake the old-fashioned fuguro into a modern fashionable item,
we brainstormed many ideas.
First, we wrote the brand name in English.
We wanted to give it a new, fresh image,
while keeping its story intact.
Next, the design.
We went with a combination of bright colors for the lining.
We attached a cute pom-pom at the end of the drawstring,
to match the modern tastes.
Take a closer look at the stitching.
There is not even a 0.5 mm error.
Our sewing instructor told us,
"The seam will tell you who sewed it.
It reflects the way they live their life."
This perfectly straight line reflects our determination
to make products with confidence.
From time to time, our customers would compliment us, saying,
"It's so neatly and beautifully made."
They notice how we use various kimono fabric,
and how we match the colors of the thread with the fabric.
It makes me very happy when they notice such details.
After 2.5 years of making FUGURO,
we have created three good "cycles" in the region.
First, culture and skills are passed down.
In the past, it was normal to exchange the fuguro,
but now, not many people make them.
Watari's culture of giving and sewing seemed to be in danger.
But here, local mothers would teach young women,
"If it's enough fabric to wrap three adzuki beans, don't throw it away."
By cherishing the value of fabric, the women learn how to sew.
This is how we pass on the local culture and skills.
Second, we now have a new community, after the disaster.
After that harrowing experience,
many women wish to work near their children,
so that they can rush to them in an emergency.
If one wishes to balance housework, childcare and nursing care,
it's important to have flexible working hours.
The old fuguro used to be made by women at home during their free time.
This was the key to flexible working conditions for women.
By sewing at home when they wished to,
and gathering to prepare the deliveries or for sewing classes,
a community once lost was becoming re-shaped.
Now, it has transformed into a place that brings together many people.
Third, we have cultivated an upcycling culture,
by adding value to the kimono fabric and sending it out to the world.
The original fuguro bags re-used leftover kimono fabric.
We also recycle kimono fabric from all over Japan.
In Japan, the recycling rate for clothes is below 20%.
Over the course of last year,
we received 315 boxes, about 2.3 tons of kimonos that were no longer used.
We revived the fabric through the hands of the Watari women.
FUGURO was used by the Swiss watch brand Girard-Perregaux
in a limited-edition package.
We also collaborated with the American apparel brand Thomas Wylde,
and sold the products in the fashion magazine "25ans."
FUGURO's design and its story are now gaining reputation abroad.
Originally, "fuguro" was no more than just a local custom,
but in it lies a warm heart that connects people.
This is a treasure to be proud of in the world.
Looking back,
the threads of the new good "cycles" and solutions in our community
all lead back to that one old "fuguro" I found at that farmer's house.
The indigenous values within local tradition and culture
may actually be the key to solving many issues.
We can find unexpected dimensions even in familiar things.
Our perceptions can transform.
After encountering the fuguro, I began to see the good in my hometown.
Though I used to hate the "Watari-ness"
that had permeated me,
now I acknowledge it as a unique trait of mine.
With this change of perspective,
I think I, and the world around me, went through a profound transformation.
At the WATALIS office, children always stop by after school.
Growing up with your hometown's traditions and culture
not only allows you to take pride in your hometown,
but it may eventually bring us to decide to keep living there.
The mothers also teach us the importance of hard work,
an attitude which will be passed on to future generations.
By sewing the local treasures of tradition and culture into FUGURO,
I hope to pass on this town's treasure, "showing gratitude in life,"
as a good luck charm, to many, many people,
to the world, and to the future.
Thank you very much.
(Applause)