Spring at Union Square Tokyo
Spring 2008

I used the first of my two trips to Tokyo this year to check in on our “cousins” at Union Square Tokyo, and to introduce Christopher Russell, Union Square Cafe’s General Manager, who had from its inception expressed a strong interest in visiting Union Square Tokyo. We agreed that this was an excellent idea, insofar as I generally spend the preponderance of my time there in the kitchen, less able than – and not as capable as – Christopher to help bring the level and “feel” of the UST service and hospitality closer to what we have learned (in nearly 23 years!) to offer in NYC. A two-pronged approach was put into play.

In this first phase, Christopher would accompany me to Tokyo for a one week trip, wherein he would get to meet the people involved and see first hand what the strengths and weaknesses of UST’s service and wine program might be. Phase two would be to invite Paolo Rotelli, a dining room Captain at UST, (who, serendipitously, is half Italian and half Japanese!) to spend a month with us here, learning first hand the ins and outs of our service and our hospitality.

The first evening there, valiantly fighting jet-lag, we dined at Union Square Tokyo along with our Japanese colleagues, Yoshitaka Hayashi, Michio Akimoto, Hideo Mogi, and Chef Yoshi. The staff was thrilled to meet Christopher, the service (by Paolo) was outstanding and the food was delicious. I felt very proud of the progress the restaurant had made since my previous visit!

After a good night’s sleep, Christopher and I got to work—each to his own station. For my part, the work consisted, as always, in checking the food quality, and introducing seasonal menu changes to carry the winter menu over until early spring. Christopher took his place on the floor, attending to guests and focusing his keen powers of observation on the fine details of service. After our shift, we would confer on what he had seen. I marveled at how concisely Christopher was able to define what was working, and what needed improvement.

A high point of our stay was Christopher’s “seminar” on hospitality which he presented to the staff members from both dining room and kitchen. Once again, I had to admire Christopher’s skill in articulating the essence of what we feel hospitality is and how to put it into practice. I feel confident that as a result of this visit, and Paolo’s subsequent sojourn at USC, both restaurants will continue to enrich one another, improve, and grow.

For me, there was another memorable aspect of this most recent trip to Tokyo. Over the course of my travels to Japan, I have become fascinated by the exquisite beauty of the traditional Japanese kimono, worn by both men and women. A small number of middle-aged women still wear the kimono on a daily basis (and they look fabulous!) but nowadays there are very few men doing so outside of festive or formal occasions such as weddings, or for practicing martial arts such as kendo and aikido. Nonetheless one does see the occasional fellow done up quite stylishly in the traditional garb. Interestingly, just as men here can rent a tuxedo for that once or twice in a lifetime event, kimonos, and a “dresser” who comes to help one don the garment correctly, can be rented.

Now, I readily confess to being a “clothes-horse” with a life-long passion for the “hand” of a fine piece of cloth, the joy of wearing a well-cut, perfectly fitted suit. Seeing Japanese people wear the kimono, and talking to them about it, I became fascinated with the garment, with its multiple layers and subtle matching of textures and colors, and so I took the plunge.

After having bought a used kimono and haori (the jacket-like over-garment) at a charming Akasaka second-hand shop, my interest was piqued about the “proper” way to wear the garment. My research took me to a very exclusive and very handsome shop in Ginza called Motoji, (www.motoji.co.jp) which specializes in bespoke men’s kimonos. I knew I was in trouble as soon as I crossed the store’s threshold! The very attentive and polite sales staff ushered me through the process of fitting (using a very old system which is neither metric nor Western, but exclusive to the measuring and cutting of kimono cloth), and selecting fabric and accessories for the entire outfit. I marveled as bolt after bolt of exquisite silk was brought forth from behind the sliding doors of discreet cabinets, and my own unique, personal kimono began to take shape. There was a point in the process, just after the fabrics had been selected, when the fitter asked me if I’d like to “try on” the kimono. A bit baffled, I replied yes, of course. I was asked to stand in the fitting area, after removing my shoes. Three sales attendants approached with the bolts of silk in hand. They first attached a kind of mock collar over my shoulders, which simulated the first layer of undergarment, and then proceeded to drape the fabric in such an artful way that the overall effect was to be dressed in the actual kimono I would one day own!

As I mentioned the outfit is a complex, multi-layered affair. It begins with a kind of double breasted undershirt, or Hadagi and long, below-the-knee boxer shorts or Suteteko.  This set seems most often to be white, and the finest ones are made of silk. Next is the Nagajuban, or long robe which serves to insulate the wearer and protect the outer garment from contact with the body. When one is fully-dressed, the only part of this robe that is seen is the outer edge of the collar as it crosses in front of the neck. This leads to two important features. The color of the nagajuban collar can be varied (by sewing on a different collar) to match the colors of the outer garments with which it is worn. In addition, as the nagajuban is not seen, it is often made with fabrics sporting very ornamental, elaborate or brightly colored patterns. I suppose the western equivalent would be wearing loud boxer shorts under a sober business suit! The nagajuban is held in place with a himo, or simple cloth “belt” which is tied in a precise double-twist knot.

Next comes the Nagagi, or full length kimono. For the well-dressed man, the fit of the kimono is of the utmost importance. The length of the robe and the sleeve correspond to trouser and jacket sleeve length on a western suit. The kimono should fall to the ankle, hitting precisely where the shin begins to curve away into the foot. The longest point of the sleeve should be just brushing the line where the wrist joins the hand. (To this point, when I tried on my second-hand kimono to show the folks at Motoji, there was a good deal of polite looking away and head shaking. Standing there with the robe ending somewhere well north of my ankles, and my elbows barely covered, I must have looked quite the country bumpkin to this very elegant group!)

Once the kimono is on and comfortably adjusted across the shoulders, it is always closed by folding the left side over the right. To do the opposite would signify that you were deceased, and in that event someone would most likely be doing the folding for you. It reminds me of that other cultural taboo in Japan of jamming one’s chopsticks directly into a bowl of rice, which also signifies death.  The kimono thus properly folded is first held in place by yet another himo, which keeps the garment from shifting while the more substantial Obi is attached. The obi is a 3 ½-inch or more-wide band of silk or cotton which is wrapped three times around the waist and finished in a complex knot. The knot is worn resting on the small of the back. Tying the obi is, as you may have guessed, a somewhat elaborate procedure (though much less so for men’s wear than the female counterpart, which only the most skilled women manage to do without assistance). I am happy to report that I have learned one way of tying the obi which I find quite attractive, though I’m sure there are many others to be mastered.

The Haori comes next. As previously noted, this is a ¾ length jacket worn over the kimono. It falls to just above the knees and can be made of material which, in color, texture or pattern, matches or contrasts with that of the kimono. I have often marveled at the incredible skill with which these two garments are paired and the spectacularly beautiful counterpoint of some of the combinations. There’s a lot more going on here than the suit-shirt-tie-pocket square combination we’re familiar with!

An interesting feature of the haori is that it remains open. The “lapels” or outer edges of the garment are folded back and the jacket is held in place by a haori himo, or decorative clasp which attaches to two small loops sewn into the hem of the jacket lapels at about the level of the breast bone. The haori himo varies in appearance depending on whether the occasion is casual or formal.  Another fascinating aspect of the haori is that the inside back panel, which no one sees unless you remove the garment, is traditionally decorated with an embroidered pattern or picture of the wearer’s choice. These can be quite elaborate and beautiful. For my haori, I chose a striking representation of three fierce-looking lions.

It is worth mentioning that each of the three garments, nagajuban, kimono and haori, have very full sleeves which fit one inside the other. If you were to stand with arms akimbo, the sleeves would reach down to your waist. These are very useful storage areas (aka pockets), but do take some getting used to when you are, for example, attempting to pass your dinner companion the mashed potatoes.

Of course, the kimono requires special footwear as well. There are the Tabi, or ankle-height socks which button up in back and split the toes 4-1 in front. That is, the big toe has its own little compartment, while the other four toes get to snuggle up together. This of course is to facilitate the wearing of the Zori, or traditional thronged sandals, which I find sheer torture to walk in.

There is one additional element to the traditional male (and sometimes female) dress, which is the Hakama. This is a divided or undivided pleated skirt which resembles a pair of very wide pants, and is tied around the waist and worn over the kimono. In addition to the pleats, the hakama has a stiff, padded back panel which rises up to the small of the back, and long ties with which it is attached around the body. I have studied diagrams of how to put on this garment and it does seem devilishly difficult. These days, hakama are seen at very formal occasions and in the martial arts.

As to the question I’m sure many of you are dying to ask, I have no idea when or where I’ll be wearing my kimono. More likely in Tokyo than New York City, is my guess! Drop me a line if you’d like to see it modeled, or just rent yourself an Akira Kurosawa samurai film and you’ll see everything described above!