Free The Bride's Kimono by Sujata Massey

about needing to cover for another employee who’d be away on vacation. They were so terribly vague, and I couldn’t get anything more out of them. Did you hear something else?” She looked as if she’d pounce on me if I had.
    “No, I didn’t. And I’m going to have to disappoint you about my wearing a kimono. I didn’t bring any of my own kimono to wear, just a suit for the daytime lecture and a little black dress for the VIP reception.”
    “Oh, that won’t work at all.” Allison clucked her tongue. “The reason I wanted a young Japanese woman lecturer is that you can actually be what you’re talking about. Could you borrow a kimono from a relative?”
    So she wanted me to present the stereotyped image of a proper Japanese lady—even though it was the twenty-first century, and only a small fraction of Japanese women wore kimono. Now I was starting to realize what I was being paid for. And if I wanted the money, I had to be agreeable. “I’ll check if I can have something sent from Japan. But it will take at least two days to get here, even with express mail.”
    “Since the party’s in two days, you’d better call right away,” Allison said. “Please use my phone; we’ll happily take care of the long-distance charges, too. I’ll just call Jamie to check the condition of the kimono herself before putting them in the freezer.”
    It was almost midnight in Japan, but that was no deterrent to telephoning. Everyone there seemed to stay up past midnight. Since there was a strong chance my friend Richard hadn’t made it home from the clubs yet, I decided to try my aunt Norie. She would be more reliable at putting together a kimono outfit that matched, and getting it quickly into the mail.
    “Hai?” Yes, my aunt answered on the second ring.
    “I hope I’m not waking you.” I explained the situation, including that I would reimburse her for all the overnight mailing charges.
    “What a lovely idea for you to dress in a kimono! But why don’t you wear some of my kimono? I have more than fifty resting in perfect condition in my tansu . Some of them haven’t been worn since I was a young woman, and the colors are just right for you—splendid purples and greens and reds. I have obi, underrobes, petticoats, everything you need. I think you left a pair of zori here after a tea party last summer. If they don’t match the kimono that I choose, I’ll buy you new ones. I remember you take the largest size.” My aunt sounded as if she were rummaging through her tansu full of kimono as we spoke.
    I paused, deciding. My kimono collection dated primarily from the 1920s; all were historically interesting. However, these kimono had mostly been bought without coordinating sashes. When I wore them in public, with the various obi I’d bought at the flea markets, I’d occasionally get compliments on the rare mix of fibers and patterns, but I knew the Japanese thought my kimono were extremely odd. Buying a new set with everything coordinating cost upwards of $12,000, which was out of the question for my budget.
    “That is really, really kind of you,” I said to my aunt. “If it’s not too much hassle, could you send me more than one kimono, just to be sure I have a backup? I’llpay whatever it costs for overnight shipment, plus insurance. And please be sure that what you send is formal—”
    “Rei-chan, do not have a moment of worry. I even own a few uchikake robes formal enough for you to wear for your wedding with Takeo Kayama.”
    “Um, isn’t it best to tap a stone bridge before crossing it?” I reminded my aunt of the popular proverb that urged Japanese to proceed with caution.
    “Flowers on a high peak are still nice to pick,” Norie said, answering me with a favorite of her own. “Dearest niece, don’t imagine for a minute that I’ll send you a wedding kimono. Instead, I’ll send you three long-sleeved robes— furisode —suitable for formal occasions. How I wish I could see you dress like this