bookmark_borderShitozu, from Linen

The next step in the long running Bunkan Sokutai Sugata project, I’m working my way down to the feet. When wearing the sokutai, asagutsu shoes (really more like clogs) protect the feet from the ground, and shitozu socks protect the feet from the asagutsu (or is it the other way around?). Apparently, they pre-date the split-toe and the idea that walking on a seam all day will cause blisters.

Shitozu in Linen

Mine are based on this one in the Shoso-in Imperial Treasure Repository:

Sock of bast-fiber cloth, No. 53.

I traced the photo in a drawing package, scaled it up to the size of my foot, printed the pattern, cut two pieces from surplus cotton canvas, sewed them together, everted the sock, and tried it on. Too tight. Modify the pattern a bit and iterate. Still too tight. Iterate. Success! That was actually pretty rapid for this kind of thing.

Now that I had a working pattern, it was time to cut four pieces and make the final copy out of white linen. A couple of cuff hems, and some decoration with a fabric marker, and they are ready to wear once I finally make the asagutsu. According to the Shoso-in site, the original bears the seal of “Tōji-kōin”, and if you visit the page to view the back there appears to be writing up near the cuff. It’s probably something like “worn on the occasion of his birthday” or something. I wrote “Ishiyama 2 5” on mine. If I ever make a real seal I’ll stamp them.

Lefty and Righty Shitozu

bookmark_borderTabi for Tsukime

One of our friends in the SCA, Oribe Tsukime, received a writ for elevation to the Order of the Laurel. The writ was issued back in the Spring, but she was not able to have her actual elevation until this past weekend. This gave me plenty of time to make these white silk tabi for her to wear as part of her elevation garb.

Tabi in fine white silk

This was the first time I had ever made tabi for another person, the first time I had made tabi in a few years, and the process was complicated by Tsukime living somewhat far from my home. Footwear is always difficult to fit, and trying to do it by sending prototypes back and forth in the mail took a few months.

I was able to complete this project with days to spare, however, and she wore them during her vigil and elevation ceremony. They are all fine silk left over from the uenohakama project, sewn by hand with white silk thread. I don’t know how long they will last, and they probably never can be washed, but I was asked to make them and they were ready in time, so I am happy.

bookmark_borderBlogrolling

A few weeks ago, Gareth Branwyn of the Cool Tools blog posted a request for suggestions to include in a “Maker Sartorial” feature. I had a couple of ideas, so I sent in some email, and my suggestions were just posted as part of the June 11th post.

https://kk.org/cooltools/quick-molding-with-sugru/

I talked about my my Shop Coat (which does not get much use these days, in the heat) and my enthusiasm for Keen safety footwear.

Always good to feel that my opinions are sometimes considered valid enough to share.

bookmark_borderTabi 2019

I didn’t manage to get my tabi for last year finished until February of this year, but i’m now way ahead of last year when I didn’t finish my 2018 tabi until more than half way through the year.

Tabi 2019 in brown raw silk

The uppers and soles of these tabi are made from the same raw silk I used for this suoh. The ties are made from some green linen I had left over from this hapi that I made so long ago. I did save some time making this pair by just overcasting all four layers (two layers of upper, two layers of sole) together at once instead of sewing the inner and outer layers together separately and then joining them with the himo ties. This leaves a raw edge rubbing against the feet, but hiding this edge between layers is bulkier and actually less traditional. Anyway, as you can see in the photo, I usually wear socks inside my tabi.

Just in case you have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about here, tabi aretraditional Japanese footwear. Common tabi are made of two layers of fabric. Modern tabi have closures at the back, but historical tabi close in front and either tie at the top or are tall enough to be held shut by the kyahan. Since they are fabric and you walk on them, they tend to wear out pretty quickly. I try to make a new pair every year so that as old ones fall apart or get too dirty I have new clean ones to take their place. Since they don’t need very much fabric, I usually piece them together from bits of surplus fabric left over from other projects.