Boro

Something old made into something new,

Something "boro'd" is always blue.

And there you have it - BORO, Japanese folk fabric,

the orient's answer to western patchwork.

Boro stemmed from the almost forgotton value of "mottainai"

or too good to waste and sits comfortably in all it's indigo

shades with today's shabby street chic.

When literally translated the word means scraps of ragged

cloth and is associated with clothes and household items that

have been patched and repatched many times.  Generations of

family sagas are contained within the threads of many of the

older examples.  Garments were traditionally passed down within

families and the beauty of the hard wearing boro fabric lies in the

highly sophisticated sewing and weaving techniques employed 

by it's makers.  Japanese women would often create their own

individual designs in fierce competition with other family 

members and friends.

Donja's are the very large, heavy sleeping coats which all the

family used to pile into whilst a bodoko was a bed sheet.

The bodoko, or life cloth, was also used when a woman went

into labour.  She would be suspended from ropes fastened to

the ceiling whilst at the same time lightly kneeling on the bodoko.

This meant that these layers of rags worn by her ancestors would

be the first thing her new-born child would touch upon entry into

the world.  I think I'd prefer gas and air anytime but each to her own.

Boro is the tangible representation of "yuyo-no-bi" (the beauty

of practicality) as it uses everything and lets nothing go to waste.

Each and every piece of this cheap, utilitarian fabric is, by it's

very criteria, unique.  You'll never find two pieces alike and by

dint of it's beauty and history these wonderful examples of textile

art have now become highly valued and much sought after.

So I must make a start.  Where did I put those worn out old blue

jeans?  I hope no one's "boro'd" them.