What interests me most is what people did within those limits. 徳永幾久氏『刺し子の研究』—Ikuhisa Tokunaga, A Study of Sashiko (working English translation)—describes かくれ刺し (kakure-zashi), or “hidden stitching,” in the Shōnai region of Yamagata.

Tokunaga gives an example of a work garment in which the stitched pattern is almost invisible from the outside. Turn the garment over, however, and the pattern can be seen clearly on the inside. The stitching is there, but it is hidden from view when the garment is worn.

He also records an oral tradition about another kind of hidden stitching. According to the story, ordinary people faced restrictions on the colors and patterns they could wear. Women stitched patterns in white cotton thread, then dyed the whole cloth in indigo. The white thread also turned blue, so the pattern almost disappeared. But as the garment was worn and washed again and again, the indigo gradually faded from the thread and the lighter pattern slowly appeared.

The two examples are slightly different, but both are easy to understand as ways of keeping decoration from being immediately visible: one hides the stitching on the inside; the other hides it under indigo until time and washing slowly bring it back. The second story is an oral tradition recorded by Tokunaga, not a surviving law explaining that people were told to hide patterns in this way.

Still, I find both examples fascinating. There were rules about clothing, but people still wanted to enjoy what they wore. Even when a pattern could not be shown openly, there were ways to put beauty into a garment and keep it there.

From here, this is canoha’s interpretation. When we look at old sashiko today, it is easy to focus on the stitches themselves: the technique, the pattern, the beauty of the finished cloth. But those stitches did not exist by themselves. Where did the person live? What were they allowed to wear? What materials could they obtain? What kind of work did they do? And within those limits, how did they want to dress?

For me, this has become an important way of looking at sashiko. Beyond the stitches, there was everyday life. A stitch may have made cloth stronger. It may have added warmth. And sometimes it may also have allowed someone to enjoy a little beauty within the limits of their life.

Seen this way, another question begins to appear. Were people always thinking, “I am doing sashiko,” when they put a needle through cloth? Or were they simply using the materials available to them—adding warmth, strengthening worn areas, and sometimes making clothing more beautiful because daily life required it?

If so, the next question is not only how people stitched cloth, but when those kinds of practices came to be called “sashiko.” Layering, reinforcing, and stitching cloth may be older than the name itself.

So what, exactly, are we calling sashiko?

Next: Part 7 | What Do We Call Sashiko?