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| 布製カレンダー / Fabric Calendar |
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| 布製カレンダー / Fabric Calendar |
Since it's Sunday, I'm writing something gentle.
The other day, I bought a fabric calendar.
It's the kind of fabric calendar I'd occasionally spot at variety stores for ages.
Truth is, I write my schedule directly on the calendar with a marker, crossing off each day's number with a diagonal line as I go.
When I jotted things down elsewhere, I'd forget to carry or look at those notes during hectic times. After trying various methods, I settled on writing directly on the calendar.
Since then, I've never forgotten an appointment.
When I was young, I did this without thinking much of it, but later, I found I took notes and made appointments or reminders surprisingly often. I started using thick memo paper, which I still love to this day.
I distinctly remember using both the handmade memo pad and the calendar together until a little over ten years ago.
Given this selective lifestyle, I'd long wondered why fabric calendars even existed.
Since I write directly on calendars, fabric ones were unusable for writing. Even if I forced it, I could only manage to mark things with dots.
Still, the reason it stuck in my mind (I forget most things I don't understand, right?) was that fabric calendars often featured very intricate printing, with delicate designs from places like England, America, and France.
Some had overly cute characters, but overall, they were meticulously crafted.
I occasionally wondered if calendars were originally made of fabric. Then, in 2025, I spotted one and impulsively bought it.
When it arrived, it was absolutely lovely. Once the feeling of having made a secret splurge subsided, I realized the raw edges, the natural fabric color, the printed font, and the ink color were all so soft and intelligent—I was glad I bought it.
While writing today's Sunday edition, I searched online yesterday. While records exist of when they first appeared, I couldn't find an answer online for why calendars were printed or embroidered onto fabric.
I settled on an explanation for myself: perhaps it's a longstanding design convention, a combination of a numerical calendar and a design element.
Come to think of it, I distinctly remember seeing calendars attached to some kind of pattern when I was little.
Is it to add practicality? Or is the collection of twelve months' worth of numbers themselves exceptionally well-designed? Personally, I lean towards the latter.
I usually have nothing but harsh words for numbers—cold, dull, tasteless—as if I hold some grudge against them. But when viewed as images, they form incredibly stylish, cool, and sophisticated patterns, don't they?
Their stark simplicity is also highly avant-garde. The crisp lines of the numbers convey the cool, intense heat that HIP (cool and the best) possesses.
This type of fabric calendar apparently exploded in popularity in Japan several years ago and is also a familiar, popular style in Korea.
I don't know why they were made, but even now, centuries later, when I look at a fabric calendar hung on the wall with a nail, the only feeling that comes through clearly is, “This is a good thing.”
This might be the power of design.
Have you decided on next year's calendar?
They say autumn, or late autumn, suddenly begins today in my town and in Japan.
Stay warm and make plans for your autumn and winter preparations.
For me, autumn, winter, and early spring are finally seasons when I can go out without worry. How about you?
Staying indoors is also nice, wrapped up in those long, softly glowing nights that come with the dropping temperatures, like a Hakushu Kitahara-esque afternoon.
Well then, have a wonderful Sunday.
Translated with DeepL.com (free version)
