Silkworm farmers and the sound of looms—My memories of growing up in Isesaki

I (MEISENNE producer and designer) was born in Isesaki City, Gunma Prefecture. Upon entering university, I moved to the city center and enjoyed Tokyo life, but after various twists and turns in life, I returned to my hometown of Isesaki about 10 years ago. Now, I thoroughly enjoy my life in Isesaki. It was after returning to Isesaki that I started to pay attention to its history and regional resources and became interested in them.

I talked about the history of how Isesaki's textile culture flourished and then declined in a previous article. This time, I would like to talk about the memories of the women who lived through the continuation of that history.
I'm talking about my grandmother and myself.

The landscape of Isesaki, where mulberry fields stretched as far as the eye could see

I heard that the entire Isesaki area was once covered in mulberry fields. Even places that have completely turned into residential areas were once filled with mulberry leaves for silkworms. This is a remnant of the era when Isesaki as a whole was built for silk weaving.

My grandmother's house also used to raise silkworms. The second floor of the old Japanese house still retains the unique structure of a sericulture farmhouse. It features a large, undivided space, big windows for light and ventilation, and a high ceiling. It is a functional yet open structure designed to efficiently raise silkworms. That space, which was used as a silkworm room, still quietly tells the story of how closely daily life was connected to textiles at that time.

That house still stands, but it has become quite old and is now like a ruin. Even if one can imagine the former bustle in the uninhabited silkworm room, the voices are no longer heard.

The sound of weaving echoing in the backyard

In the backyard of my grandmother's house, there was a weaving workshop. An elderly couple who lived nearby did their weaving there. As I recall, it wasn't so much hand-weaving on a high loom as two weaving machines operating.

When I went to the workshop, the machines were moving at high speed, weaving cloth. In my memory, that place was enveloped in the loud clanking sound of the machines, and the sound of weaving always echoed whenever I passed by. For me as a child, it was a little scary, yet it was distinctly the sound of "this land."

My grandmother and her navy blue tsumugi

My grandmother, who passed away seven years ago at the ripe old age of 99, used to wear kimonos as part of her daily life until her legs and back weakened and she could no longer tie her obi sash. She favored navy blue tsumugi, and I believe it was Oshima Tsumugi. She would wear kimonos not just on special occasions, but as a matter of course in her everyday life.

Interestingly, my grandmother didn't wear Isesaki Meisen. Perhaps the bold and vibrant patterns of Isesaki Meisen were a bit too flashy for the people living in Isesaki. Meisen was probably more of a business kimono, meant to be sold outside the town, in places like Kyoto and Tokyo, rather than something local people wore daily. While calm tsumugi and striped patterns were preferred locally, vibrant Meisen was loved elsewhere—such a twisted relationship might be one of the interesting aspects unique to a production area.

When my grandmother passed away, that kimono was placed in her coffin with her. I believe she is still wearing it in heaven.

A life with kimonos close at hand

I myself am not someone who wears kimonos often, only occasionally. However, having grown up in an environment with mulberry fields, a house structured for sericulture, a backyard echoing with the sound of weaving, and a grandmother who spent her days in kimonos—for me, kimonos were not something from a distant world, but always a familiar presence.

Even if I didn't wear kimonos myself, I knew a life where kimonos were a natural part of everyday. I believe this unknowingly became a significant foundation for me in creating the MEISENNE brand.

The ruined silkworm room and the navy blue tsumugi placed in the coffin. Things that are lost and things that remain in the heart. MEISENNE is born from both of these memories.