It all started when Mina Nishimura—my Japanese host parents’ niece—told me she was going on an exchange program to Australia. I had shared some meals with her when she came to visit her uncle’s house in Hirakata, the city where I lived and studied. Meanwhile, she was studying in Kyoto, twenty minutes away by train.
One day, Mina invited me for lunch and told me she had to leave the apartment she was renting. I offered to help her and, the following weekend, we were down to work. It was a productive morning without many complications because, in the Japanese minimalist style, she had few things. At noon, his father arrived with a truck to take a couple of pieces of furniture, and that was it.
Once the hustle and bustle was over, Mina told me that, as a farewell, she wanted to dress as a geisha in Kyoto and that her father was inviting me to thank me for the help. I explained to her that I was not expecting any payment, especially when I learned that it would cost 150 dollars for each one, but she insisted so much that she ended up convincing me.
That same day we went to a store that rented kimonos and offered the experience of dressing as a geisha for forty minutes. Our appointment was at four in the afternoon. The first thing was to choose our favorite kimono; I was delighted with the colored fabrics, very soft to the touch. Mina chose a blue one and I chose a red one. Then, the ladies from the store showed us the different accessories that matched the chosen fabrics. The fact is that to wear a kimono, you need more than one garment.
Once everything was decided (hair, purse, getas, inner dress, extra fabrics, etc.), the makeup and hairstyle began, which would last no more and no less than two long hours. The first phase was to cover the face and neck with white paint, a characteristic of the geishas. At that moment, in front of the mirror, I felt ghostly. Little by little, the makeup artist marked my features. The first thing she drew was straight eyebrows above mine; I found it amazing that my abundant eyebrows were completely hidden behind the layer of white makeup.
Then she continued to outline the eyes with different pencils, some black and others red, which gave depth to my look. I also found it interesting that she didn’t pay much attention to the eyelashes. In fact, mine turned out exactly as they are: mainly straight, with a downward trend. Next came the red lipstick, which the makeup artist applied with great concentration, first marking the shape of the mouth. All of this took almost an hour, before moving on to the hair styling, which lasted another forty minutes. They placed, with great care and precision, fake hair—identical to mine and previously shaped—to finish off with a headdress of plastic flowers that looked like real ones. Finally, two store clerks helped me put on the rest of the clothes that make up a geisha kimono in approximately twenty more minutes. I was fascinated. It felt like traveling in a time machine to Edo times. I wanted to emulate real geishas who sing and play shamisen, or serve green tea with great grace.
Then the photo sessions followed: one individually and another with Mina, which would last another fifteen minutes. After that, finally, we went for a walk around the neighborhood. All of those activities were included in the package. The shop clerks showed us on a map the way to follow, which was basically a walk around the block. In the photo session we were barefoot, but to go for a walk we had to put on getas, which are traditional Japanese wooden slippers—in the old times, they were used by men and women; those of the geishas are a little higher than those of the rest. I don’t usually wear high heels so it was quite a challenge. When I put them on I thought: “I have to do it” and, with that spirit, we began the longest around-the-block walk of my life.
The last rays of the sun were visible in the sky. Since it was early fall, it wasn’t that cold yet, and, although the weather was pleasant, after the first block I already started sweating. I had to concentrate really hard not to fall; In fact, they even explained to us what to do in those cases. At one point I staggered, but I knew how to get around that mishap.
There weren’t many people on the street. Dressed like that, we attracted the attention of the few who were passing by at that time. When we got to the second corner, there was a bridge and a park. On that short journey, I enjoyed the architecture of the traditional Gion neighborhood, with its temples and wooden houses. A family watched us from a distance and came up to take photos with us. Mina socialized with people who thought we were real geishas because it is not unusual in Kyoto to see them walking around—although there are fewer nowadays—while she explained that we had only dressed up. In any case, I didn’t open my mouth so as not to disappoint them and I limited myself to smiling for the photo and thanking them. Later, a man passed by and approached us and said something. Mina later told me that he had requested our services and she had to clarify that we were not real geishas.
Within the world of geishas (who still exist and live in the same way as they did several centuries ago), their education goes through different stages, and beginners are called maiko, who are geisha apprentices. The difference between their styles is in the colors they use to dress, the decorations, and the makeup. While the geishas paint both lips, the maiko only paint the lower lip. Likewise, the geishas wear sober decorations on their heads and costumes, while the maikos are filled with hanging flowers and bright colors, although always according to the season. For those who know these differences, our two painted lips and the flowers on our heads revealed us as false geishas.
When we finished going around, my feet hurt a lot, so the first thing I did was take off my shoes. We thanked the ladies and, after giving us the photos in an envelope, they proceeded to help us change our clothes. This was much faster. For a moment, I thought of keeping the makeup on, but I knew that it would look weird without the kimono, so I let go of that idea and removed my makeup with a powerful liquid that they gave us.
When reflecting on this experience, I realized that the concept of fun varies from person to person, it is an individual taste. But also, it varies between different cultures. In Japan, people don’t usually go out dancing like we Latinos normally do, but they do go out to sing karaoke, for example. They also don’t celebrate their birthdays with a crowd of people and bite into a cake, nor do they organize big parties to say goodbye to friends. On this occasion, Mina wanted to celebrate her farewell by dressing as a geisha with me.
It was an almost surreal experience. Being a geisha (or maiko) for forty minutes in Kyoto is one of the most fun memories I have of my life in Japan, thanks to my friend Mina. I felt so comfortable that I thought that maybe I was a geisha in a past life, who knows.
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