tenugui

I’ve been wanting to post about tenugui, which I discovered while we were in Japan. I saw these mysterious little pieces of fabric all over Tokyo, often in the Japanese craft/souvenir section of department stores. They were long and narrow, looked like scarves, and had beautiful prints on them. I try to keep souvenir-ish purchases to a minimum since I hate clutter, but I couldn’t resist buying just a few of them.

I asked one of the cheerful salesladies what these things were for. “Kitchen towel. Cleaning.” What? These amazing things? For cleaning? You mean I can use something this beautiful instead of F’s old boxer shorts? It seems crazy, obscene, and somehow so Japanese. Even the act of cleaning should still have beauty. Yes, yes, I’m showing my embarassing fetish for all things japonesque again. I can’t help it. Look at these things. F got me the best ones, the cherry and the train.

I definitely think the designers of train/cherry/flower pattern has some of the best designs I saw. You can see them at Raak. Actually, many beautiful things are actually made with these fabrics, so it’s not all just scrubbing the toilet. We bought this for Fifth Aunt Grandma K:

We spent a lot of our precious time in Tokyo in the bookstores since I am obsessed with Japanese craft books. I found two books on tenugui that not only show some beautiful examples of the craft, but also lots of helpful suggestions on what to do with them:

Maybe you want to use them to help exercise. Lord knows I really need a tool to help me when I stretch and squat. Maybe you’re enjoying a cold beer and you need something around your neck to help keep it warm. Maybe you want to dress your daughter up like a Japanese Daisy Duke.

Or maybe you find yourself outdoors and you find yourself in need of a hat. That doesn’t cover your face. And that you have to hold together with both your hands.

I’m afraid this one doesn’t pass the Shiso Standards Test. When we were kids, we used to fold our dinner napkins this way when we got bored, but we would hold them up to our chests and pretend they were bras.