Amami Oshima, Japan — September 2026
Eight hours of traveling, just to stand in the mud.
That’s how our recent journey to Amami Oshima began.
Mimi, our daughter Tatiana, and I traveled to this beautiful island in southern Japan to discover the story behind Oshima Tsumugi, one of Japan’s most remarkable traditional textiles.
And yes, we actually got into the mud.
But there was a reason for it.
Why mud?
Oshima Tsumugi is a traditional silk textile with a history stretching back centuries.
One of the most fascinating parts of its creation is Dorozome, or mud dyeing.
The process involves repeatedly dyeing threads with natural plant extracts and treating them in iron-rich mud. Through this reaction, the silk gradually develops its beautiful, deep, almost-black color.
Mimi went first, and then it was my turn.
Our craftsman was surprisingly funny, and we had such a great time.
But behind all the laughter, I couldn’t stop thinking about something.
Why would anyone go through the trouble of dyeing threads over and over, instead of simply dyeing the finished fabric?
To be honest, I still don’t completely understand it.
But I do know this: without these traditional processes, Oshima Tsumugi wouldn’t be what it is today.
The luster, the depth of color, the remarkable character of the textile ; all of it comes from generations of knowledge and patience.
Today, modern technology can produce almost any color.
Yet there are still people dedicating their lives to preserving these techniques.
The people behind the fabric
During our visit, we met local weavers.
One elderly woman told us she continues weaving simply because she loves doing it.
We also learned how dramatically the industry has declined.
At its peak, annual production was around 29,000 rolls of fabric. Today, it’s only a fraction of that.
That stayed with me.
Because when a craft disappears, we don’t just lose a beautiful piece of fabric.
We lose the knowledge, patience, and stories of the people who created it.
A little moment at a café
Something else happened during our trip.
At a small café, an elderly woman, probably around seventy, noticed Mimi’s Etsuka jacket made from Oshima Tsumugi.
She leaned back and exclaimed,
“Kawaiiiiiiii!” — “So cute!”
It was such a wonderfully enthusiastic reaction.
It turned out her mother had worked with Oshima Tsumugi herself.
For some reason, that little moment made me incredibly happy.
A traditional textile, made into something new, being called cute by someone whose family had a connection to the craft.
Maybe that’s one way these traditions can continue to live.
Not necessarily by preserving them in exactly the same form, but by bringing them into the lives of people today.
I still don’t fully understand why the process has to be so complicated.
But I’m beginning to understand why it’s worth preserving.
And I hope to keep traveling, meeting the people behind these remarkable textiles, and sharing what we discover along the way.
