Threads of Edo: The 150-Year Craft of Asakusa's Kumihimo Artisans

Braided cords known as kumihimo are made by diagonally interlacing multiple threads, creating something at once strong, thick, and intricately patterned. For centuries, they have brought subtle beauty to Japanese dress, from sageo cords that fasten a sword at the waist to obijime cords that secure the obi in place.

Kiryudo, a venerable Asakusa shop that marks its 150th anniversary in 2026, has spent generations weaving the Edo period (1600-1868) essence of iki, a refined, quietly confident sense of chic, into its cords. Through their hands, that spirit continues to breathe in the modern day.

Like a Stringed Instrument

On a wooden stand, silk threads fan out in every direction, pulled tight like the strings of a finely tuned instrument.

Yuji Haneda, the sixth-generation craftsman at age 46, smiles as he gathers a handful of them.

"When I was a kid, this was my secret hideout," he recalls.

A white thread hooked around his left thumb meets a blue one in his right, slipping gracefully beneath a strand of purple. Every movement is economical, fluid, and sure — pure muscle memory.

"It may sound like boasting, but I've always been good with my hands," he says with a laugh.

The small weights dangling from the ends of the threads click together now and then with a soft clink, punctuating the quiet rhythm of his work.

From Samurai Decline to Tokyo Chic

Kiryudo first opened its doors in 1876 in Kiryu, Gunma Prefecture, then a thriving center of raw silk production. But that same year, the government issued the Haitorei Edict banning the wearing of swords, causing demand for sageo cords to collapse almost overnight. Seeking a future beyond the fading samurai world, the shop moved to Tokyo, where the energy of Westernization was reshaping fashion and consumer life at a breathtaking pace.

By the mid-Meiji period (late 1880s to early 1900s), kumihimo obijime cords had become popular among the geisha of Fukagawa, one of Tokyo's bustling pleasure quarters.

*Yuji Haneda of Kiryudo braiding threads. (©Sankei by Momoka Nagae)*

"Japanese people love to tie things," Haneda remarks with a smile.

Braided diagonally, kumihimo has a softly three-dimensional structure that flexes with each breath. As haori jackets spread among ordinary townspeople, the market for haori-himo, the cords that fasten them at the front, grew rapidly as well.

Four Basic Structures

Braided cords fall into four main structural families.

When threads cross diagonally, the result is kumihimo, the classic braided cord.

When they are woven vertically and horizontally, it becomes orihimo.

Twisted and bound threads form yorihimo, while loops linked together create amihimo.

Haneda illustrates each category with quick, confident sketches.

"In this craft, the beginning determines everything," he explains. "Before I touch the threads, I always jot down the kumiaji, the texture I'm aiming for, the color balance, the firmness, just rough notes on paper."

Once the design takes shape, he bundles together dozens of fine silk threads, sometimes as many as 400, to form a single thicker strand called goshi. After preparing several of these bundles, he fastens a weight to each end, and the slow, deliberate rhythm of braiding begins.

*Many threads intertwine to become a cord. (©Sankei by Momoka Nagae)*

Infinite Possibilities and Postwar Survival

Three weighted bobbins can create something as simple as a child's three-strand braid, but when the number rises into the hundreds, the result becomes astonishingly intricate.

By adjusting both the number of threads and the number of bundles, a craftsman can produce an almost limitless range of patterns and textures. During wartime, kumihimo cords found unexpected demand among soldiers, who used them for uniforms, sabers, and decorative fittings on pipes.

After the war, however, Western clothing quickly became the norm, and many kumihimo workshops, especially those focused on obijime, were forced to close. Kiryudo survived only because its artisans shouldered bundles of cords and traveled the country, visiting department stores and supplying kimono shops wherever they could.

"We're not the sort of shop that clings rigidly to 'tradition,'" Haneda says. "We've always tried to move with the times rather than fight them."

A Distinctive Palette

The colors vary widely, yet few of them are "vivid" in the modern sense. Instead, they carry a subdued, quietly elegant depth.

"I want to make things that hold the fragrance of Edo," Haneda explains.

When he hand-dyes silk, he deliberately tempers brightness.

To create red, he adds a touch of green, its complementary color, to take the edge off.

He chooses indigo over a loud blue, enji (deep crimson) over a playful pink.

This subtractive way of thinking about color, paring back rather than adding on, produces the crisp, understated palette that defines true Edo style.

Orders From Across the Globe

In recent years, orders have begun arriving from around the world through the shop's online store. Foreign students of iai, a traditional Japanese martial art, sometimes drop by in person, seeking out sageo cords for their practice.

Kumihimo has shifted shape with each era, yet it retains a quietly nostalgic charm, something that seems to resonate with the Japanese spirit at a deep, almost instinctive level.

"It's really nothing complicated," Haneda says. "I just want to make things that feel truly stylish."

And on a calm weekday afternoon, the stream of customers stepping through the door keeps growing.

(Read the article in Japanese.)

Author: The Sankei Shimbun