¨God was fair to the Japanese. He gave them no oil, no coal, no diamonds, no gold, no natural resources – nothing! Nothing comes from the island that you can sustain a civilization on. What God gave the Japanese was a sense of style – maintained through the centuries through hard work and the disciplines of ambition.¨

Diana Vreeland

Diana Vreeland, former editor of Harper’s Bazaar and Vogue US, was equally provocative and insightful when she described her understanding of Japanese aesthetics.

The scarce natural resources of Japan created very special for the Japanese community. She claimed that the barren Japanese landscape helped to create a distinct sense of style, not only in terms of design but also from a philosophical viewpoint. 

The practice of boro dates back to Japanese medieval times.

The concept refers to rags and textiles, most often dyed in shades of indigo and used for as long as possible.

Boro was a resistance to wastefulness and a reminder that natural resources are limited. To know the usefulness of a piece of fabric, one could simply measure it.

If it was big enough to wrap around a coffee bean, it was still useful and should not be wasted.

Boro was not only used for garments but also for other kinds of everyday textile objects,, such as diapers, rugs and bedlinen.

Through boro, these items would often last more than three or four generations before being too worn out to be of use. For centuries, the boro practice was a shameful sign of poverty, but today, it is considered by experts and collectors to be an interesting example of local textile practices and fascinating craftsmanship, often praised for its faded beauty and sensible understanding of textiles as a valuable resource. 

What makes boro relevant today is its strong resistance to the fast pace and high speed of the contemporary fashion and textile industries.

By necessity, boro made use of scraps of textiles, making them useful not only for one single person but for their children, grandchildren and even great-grandchildren. Even though it was based in the lack of surplus and the opposite of abundance – in Japan at this time, textiles were a luxury item and difficult to produce – today it is known for the way that the history of several generations over time became intertwined with one another through the worn threads of the fabric.

However, boro is not only a material practice but also an expression of a Japanese philosophy, summarized by the term “mottainai”, loosely translated as “do not waste”. Boro holds the values of frugality and modesty, but is also a sign of respect and gratitude for nature’s gifts.

“Mottainai” should be understood as a negation, an expression of sorrow that something of value has been recklessly wasted instead of cherished. 

Boro is based in a belief system praising circularity, ensuring that everything is put to good use in a way that benefits several generations and not just the one living at the moment. In the decades following WWII, garments and textiles made in the boro-tradition were often hidden, considered as shameful mementos not suited for the modern consumer society that was emerging.

At that time, the ideal was to buy more than you could use, to throw away garments before they had even the slightest sign of wear.

Today, the view on consumption has begun to shift and boro-textiles are now considered an important cultural treasure and Japanese heritage. Boro can also be understood as a symbol for life itself, slowly moving through the stages of birth, aging and death, but also as a window through time, materializing in this very moment the culture and belief systems of the past.