‘I love men’: how geisha celebrate Lunar New Year in Kyoto

The stunningly attired geisha opens the folds of her kimono to reveal a message stitched on the inside. It reads, “I love men”. With a deft flick, she reveals another message hidden within the opposite side of her fantastically expensive clothing, declaring “I love money”. This is not the sort of behaviour for which Kyoto’s legendary geisha are known. Typically, these elegant and graceful women are demure and skilled at pouring guests’ drinks, or engaging in conversation before they perform time-honoured dances accompanied by traditional music on shamisen or flute. They smile, they compliment, they are dignified. 6 Japanese cafes that turn coffee into 3D latte art But they do have another side, and it is one that is largely unknown beyond insiders to Kyoto’s hanamachi, or flower towns. On one night of the year, the February 3 transition into the new year under the traditional lunar calendar that is known as Setsubun, they let their painted masks slip and the entertainment is quite different. 10 great Hong Kong Lunar New Year menus for the Year of the Pig Setsubun is marked at ordinary homes across Japan on the same evening, with children encouraged to hurl roasted soybeans at a member of the family who wears a demon mask and shout “Demons out! Good luck in!” Geisha in Gion have been marking this occasion in a similarly playful manner, in skits and performances that are sometimes risqué and always contrary to their image, for about 300 years. Dozens of tea houses line the stone-flagged backstreets of Gion, the most famous and important hanamachi in Japan’s ancient capital, with maiko apprentice geisha and their geisha “big sisters” to be found clip-clopping between venues in their wooden sandals virtually every night of the year. Obtaining a seat at a tea house for an evening in the company of a geisha is difficult and expensive on other nights of the year — a tourist “experience” will be brief and limited in scope — and on this one night of the year it is virtually impossible without the right connections. How to ‘lou sang’ the right way for more fortune and love this year While tea houses can be reserved years in advance, for Setsubun they are booked generations in advance. Because this happens on just one night of the year and regular patrons are disinclined to give up their seats, this well-kept Kyoto secret is virtually impossible to attend without the right sort of introduction. Yoshitaka Mameta heads a kimono company with long links to Kyoto’s “flower world” and he is a regular visitors to Gion’s tea houses — and has the personal connections that serve to open doors. “Gion is a special, unique place and much of its history is built upon the long-standing relationships that have grown up between traditional companies, such as ours, and the geisha houses,” he says. “And tonight is special.” Along with a dozen other guests — including a senior politician from Japan’s ruling Liberal Democratic Party — I enter the tea house by passing through a traditional wooden gateway and along a stone path flanked with bamboo. We are greeted at the door and ushered into a large tatami-mat room with a low wooden ceiling that looks out across a small garden of moss, a Japanese maple tree, bamboo and a small pond. It is quintessentially Japanese. What will your kids wear this Lunar New Year? As soon as we are seated, Katsuharu enters the room, drops to her knees and performs a lingering bow with her forehead a fraction above the tatami. At 17, Katsuharu is a maiko, and still learning her trade. But she is stunning. She wears a kimono in a delicate pink and white check design with a colourful sash around her waist and an obi at the back. Her face is flawless white all the way around to the back of her exposed neck, although her eyebrows and the corner of her eyes is picked out in a daring red. Her hair is piled high in the traditional manner for a maiko, with ornaments and branches of flowering cherry blossom carefully held in place. Katsuharu’s long kimono trails behind her when she walks, making it appear that she is gliding across the floor. With a quick smile and a practised hand, she hands out her name card and pours beer, exchanging pleasantries with her guests while the first course of the full kaiseki meal is served. Lunar New Year campaigns: who’s got it right and who’s making a pig’s ear of things? And with the food comes the entertainment. Two geisha have shed their traditional working attire to perform a comic sketch that starts with them dressed as a couple from the 1920s but ends up in the female character in a schoolgirl’s sailor-style uniform and performing a song from a popular recent television advert for glasses. The geisha move from one tea house to another during the course of the evening, mingling with their guests after they have put on their little show – all of which are elicit enthusiastic applause from the onlookers. Where to eat vegan in Hong Kong this Lunar New Year In another routine, a samurai who is trying to prevent a rogue in a colourful outfit from reaching his elegant lady friend eventually finds himself fighting off the amorous advances of the man, while later in the evening a robot dog makes an appearance. The last thimble-size glasses of sake are consumed and the guests are escorted to the front door by the performers and the more traditionally attired maiko, where we are waved on our way to a chorus of okini, the Kyoto term for “thank you”. Then the entertainers set out for their next appointment as they will be performing until 2am or later. Want more stories like this? Sign up here. Follow STYLE on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter Julian Ryall travelled courtesy of Luxurique – www.luxurique.com

‘I love men’: how geisha celebrate Lunar New Year in Kyoto

.css-1c6uqr6{color:inherit;font-weight:inherit;font-size:inherit;font-family:inherit;line-height:inherit;overflow-wrap:break-word;}Usually demure women let their painted masks slip for one night of the year – on February 3, or ‘Setsubun’ – when the entertainment is quite different

Usually demure women let their painted masks slip for one night of the year – on February 3, or ‘Setsubun’ – when the entertainment is quite different