hello! i have been trying to find some research on sarashi, but couldn't exactly find out if sarashi was still used in the 2000s in japan. would you happen to know if they still used sarashi or was the 2000s modern enough for women to switch to sports bras and other alternatives?
alternatively, would you also know if chest binders were a thing in japan in the 2000s as another alternative?
sorry if this question is weird :,] thank you tho if you answer it!
Hi! Technically you could still use sarashi nowadays, some people do! In fact, it depends what you refers to as sarashi: the long piece of cotton which can be used to cut diapers, towels etc? Or the undergarment?
Sarashi as undergarment probably fell out of fashion because kimono fell out of fashion - and in both case were mostly replaced by Western style garments. Tbh, I only can fathom sarashi in the 2000's being used by veeery old people, during traditional events like festivals.. or by yankee delinquants wanted to look like yakuza xD
Nowadays, modern undergarments are far more easier to put on and wash + often comfier (think tech fabrics like breathable/heat textile for ex.).
Women who often wear kimono have been using kimono bra (着物ブラジャー or キモノブラ) which look something like this:
You can see how the shape is quite similar to sport bra and binders, though material is much less constrictive.
The main point of those bra is that they have inner "pockets" you can pad to fill out your figure in order to achieve a clean kimono silhouette. Pads are for ex. often added to collarbones area, see the half moons shapes on this model:
This is just part of aaaaaall the padding which can be used in kimono fashion:
Note that extreme padding was not as much of a thing before kitsuke dressing schools rose (=after kimono stopped being worn everyday by the majority of people).
Personally, I (and most of tiddy owners kimono wearers I know) use sport bra or bralette + ditch most padding* - even if it means getting a "messier" kimono line.
*I usually only pad my spine area which is pretty curved, but even then padding is not as dramatic as this one ^^;
So, keep in mind that using padding or not is pretty much up to you and depending on your body type and how confortable you are with not looking like a perfect tube (=the "dream" shape in kitsuke school kimono fashion).
Hope this helps!
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Luke Castellan and his team of godkillers but they don't kill with weapons stained with ichor, but with the illusive Mist that warps the mind of mortals so easily, it shakes their faith.
In eons past, these mortals revered the Olympians with offerings and prayers daily, told their stories that inspired fear and awe all the same. It was something the pantheon had gotten hooked on, something more addicting than the ambrosia and nectar the texts had waxed poetry over. And the council of twelve did their damn best to keep it around. After all, there was no other high out there that can compare to the feeling of being in control, of being powerful.
But like any high, it wears off, sooner or later.
So that's exactly what happens.
Alabaster C. Torrington, with the help of Dr. Claymore, "discovers" new texts that discuss Greek gods that have never been heard of before; gods who are kinder, wiser, more trustworthy, than the ones everyone has come to know in this era.
It's interesting, how the origins of these gods and their lives seem to have no relevance or connection to the other pantheon and its history. No Titanomachy or Gigantomachy to speak of. There are a few parallels, but they are pleasant, like the love stories of Dionysus and Ariadne or Pygmalion and Galatea. Otherwise, it's like an alternate timeline of its own, where every god present is named a god for a reason.
It's fake.
But the mortals don't need to know that. For what's false, if persisted in, would become true anyways. Furthermore, it isn't like a new pantheon will harm any of them. The lucky ones with clear sight may win the heart of a deity who would actually see them beyond their fleeting mortality, who would care for them.
It takes a while, though, for the mortals to adjust to this suddenly newfound information. They are stubborn creatures, Luke knows, who tend to fear the unknown and new. Yet the youth crave it like bears after a beehive laden with honey. With time, they'll come around, he knows. Maybe he might not be there to see if the plans work out for himself, but someone would, and that's all that matters to him. He just needed to be the one to start the movement.
Luckily for him, he doesn't have to wait too long.
The faith spreads through idealized modernized takes on the mythology, as silly as it sounds. It's very of the era, isn't it? Books are being published on these gods who endure hardships and come out irrevocably changed but for the better. Ethan flips through one by an author under the pen name S.J and devours it in three hours. It reads nicely and he wonders when he'll get a chance to meet the main character of the story, and ask her if the myth holds true. It is, obviously, but it's different hearing it from a god. The fanfictions are even better, but Lou Ellen Blackstone gets drowned out by Alabaster's "lalalalala" before she can start talking about the recent one that was updated a few hours ago. Eh, so what if it's a little spicy?
Nonetheless, the new band of believers grows, and it's like a sucker punch to the gut for the Greek pantheon.
Apollo comes to camp and drops to his knees before his own cabin, surprising the campers. He looks terrible. Dionysus had already looked miserable, but the children attributed that to his sour personality. And, as usual, no one noticed the girl by the hearth who had disappeared weeks ago. But Apollo, golden boy Apollo, well, he has eyes that are sunken and sickly yellow, matted hair, muscles shrunk, and hands that shake as if they are beyond his control.
"They're killing us," he whispers to Lee Fletcher, "all of us."
"What do you want us to do?" Lee asks. Apollo coughs into his fist and looks down to see a smear of gold staining it.
A nosebleed. Gods don't get nosebleeds.
His children, gods bless them, are trying to heal him, but to no avail. It's kind of funny, how on any other occasion, such an act would have been annoying. If the solution was to simply heal, don't you think he would have tried that? But, weak as he was, he felt touched. Loved, even.
But love wasn't always enough to save another. He, of all gods, should know that.
"Can you write?" he asks. Lee scratches his head.
"Write?"
"Stories. Poems. Songs. Anything."
"Um, no, not really. Dyslexia kicks my ass, and you know archery is more my thing. But Will does sometimes. Healing is his forte, but I always see him writing something in a notebook, though that could just be medical notes, now that I think about it-"
Apollo disregards that last part and begs Will Solace to take up the pen and fight back. It's their last hope. If nothing is done, this camp and its children will become all that is left of the Greek Pantheon, for textbooks and website links are not enough to keep the faith going, especially if left to collect dust or rot in an archive.
"Write us new myths. Stories that can happen now, that we can make happen. Redeem us, so that we can live. We'll do it. We'll do any of it," Apollo begs.
"Anything?" Will asks. Apollo nods.
"Anything."
The Fates looked at each other from above. How time has changed. In the past, battles were fought with swords. Now, they had to be fought with words.
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