An Inside Peek at Kyoto’s Secretive Geisha Culture

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One after another, they round the corner and shuffle into the room swiftly and quietly, only creating the slightest of sound as their tiny steps meet the tatami mat. The moment they enter, the atmosphere changes; their presence raises hairs on arms, and everyone immediately goes quiet, in awe of the beauty that has just arrived. On this particular evening, we are honored with the presence of two geiko and one maiko.

In Kyoto dialect, geisha are referred to as geiko (gei means “art” while sha translates to “person” and ko to “child”) or maiko. The former must be older than 20 while the latter is between the ages of 15 and 20. Some even go through the stage of shikomi for about six months to a year prior to ascending to maiko status, in which training begins only after completing junior high school. There are five hanamachi or kagai (geisha districts) in the Ancient City—Gion Kobu (the largest), Miyagawa-chō, Ponto-chō, Kamishichiken (the oldest), and Gion Higashi. These are home to what is currently estimated to be around 73 maiko, 186 geiko, and 132 ochaya (teahouses used for entertainment by geisha), according to the Kyoto Traditional Musical Art Foundation. To clear the air before we dive in a little deeper, the misconception that geishas are the equivalent to prostitutes should be immediately thrown out. When the culture first came into existence in the Edo period, women in “pleasure quarters” called themselves geishas, but those behaviors are no longer practiced—this includes the concept of selling one’s virginity for a maiko’s mizuage ceremony.

Traditionally, one is unable to enter an ochaya to be entertained by geiko or maiko unless an existing client has referred them and they’ve built up a rapport with the okaasan (meaning “mother,” but which also refers to the owner of an ochaya or okiya, a lodging house for geisha). It was previously unheard of for foreigners to enter an ochaya unaccompanied, but due to economic difficulties some establishments have loosened their restrictions for the sake of keeping their business alive.

If you’ve ever had friends travel to Japan, you’ve probably heard their laments of how impossible it was to secure dinner reservations at sought-after restaurants. So imagine trying to break into the guarded, secret society of geiko. A mystery to even the Japanese, here, the ultimate form of currency is not how much you have, but rather who you know, and making the acquaintance of an ochaya patron is like hitting the jackpot. Lucky for me, I was staying at the Four Seasons Hotel Kyoto, a property that’s just as breathtaking as it is connected. The staff eventually put me in touch with Kenji Sawada, the CEO of Exclusive Kyoto, who is a patron of Man and visits ochaya three to four times a month in the summer and winter and two to three times a week during spring and fall.

Masami-san, the owner of Man ochaya

Photo: Courtesy of Christina Liao

Man is owned by a fourth-generation geiko known as Masami. Consisting of five floors—in which the first three form the ochaya and are used to entertain while the top two floors are for her two understudies (geiko Masaki and maiko Masano) and herself to live in, making up the okiya half of her business—the 11-year-old establishment is an atypical build given that such teahouses are usually no more than two stories. Only one dinner is held per floor at any given moment, despite all three having multiple rooms, and sometimes they are able to squeeze in a group after supper for a drinks-only affair (there’s even a karaoke room on the second floor for such occasions).

Geiko Masaki, 26

Photo: Courtesy of Christina Liao

We are seated in the largest room on the second level, dispersed along a long table with a sunken floor for leg space. One by one the geiko and maiko introduce themselves and hand me their hanameishi, a business card in the form of a narrow rectangular sticker with their moniker (given to them by their okaasan) printed on it. The first woman I meet goes by the name of Masaki. She is beautiful, needless to say, in a navy blue kimono with a silver obi belt. Her face and neck, like the other two, are covered in white makeup, and her lips are painted a deep crimson red, with the same hue marking the outer corners of her eyes. But unlike the other two, she was never a maiko. Formerly at university studying business and media, she worked at Man part-time as a bartender and admired Masami—who she adoringly refers to as her sister—so much that she decided she wanted to become a geiko and began her training at 20 (she is now 26). Throughout the night she makes small talk with me—in addition to laying a linen napkin over my lap when the first course arrives and making sure my glass is never empty—and patiently answers, often in English, my questions. The moments that a translator needs to assist I can hear her repeating the linguist’s words in an attempt to improve her vocabulary and pronunciation—her voracious desire to learn is admirable and endearing.

I next meet Masano, a young maiko at the age of 16 in her first year of training (signified by having only her bottom lip painted red), who just joined the okiya last year and debuted in December. She had been invited to a teahouse as a guest when she was 14 and was so impressed by the maiko that evening that she had set her mind on becoming one. Her impressively symmetrical hair, which is done every week and takes about two hours to do, is adorned with a number of pins and an elaborate floral ornament known as hana kanzashi (another sign of her first year in training), while the back of her neck is only partially covered in white—herein lies two distinctive features that distinguish a geiko from a maiko: The former are allowed to wear wigs, which often cover the nape and thereby do not need to reveal strips of unpainted skin, which is meant to provide the illusion of elongation, and they also tend to have fewer and simpler accessories in their hair. Kyoto-born, her parents understood what the life of a maiko entailed and gave their blessing for her to pursue her wish. When asked if she plans on becoming a geiko (only about half of maiko proceed with furthering their career), her face instantly lights up, an earnest smile spreads across her face, and she enthusiastically says yes. She goes to school or has private lessons one to four times a week and spends her other days self-practicing or cleaning the okiya. With two days off a month, no cell phone, maybe TV once a week, and only getting the chance to see her family and friends two to three times a year during special holidays, it makes me wonder what her proclivities for such a lifestyle are. But then again, I suppose certain decisions that I, or anyone else, have chosen to make could also be similarly scrutinized.

Masano (left) and Tomitae. Here, two more differences between geiko and maiko are shown: The former’s under collar is solid white, and her obi is folded into a square-like shape, rather than hanging down her back.

Photo: Courtesy of Christina Liao

Lastly, Tomitae, a 21-year-old geiko in a royal purple kimono with an orange obi belt, comes around to introduce herself. She has been borrowed from another okiya in Gion Higashi and has gone through several years of training, firstly as a shikomi for six months before she became a maiko at 16. When one of the guests exasperates about how little time he had to do his hair, running his hands through his coif, she instantly whips out a pocket mirror from the folds of her obi. Along with the hand glass, she has also tucked away a fan, business card holder, powder compact, and loose memo paper wrapped around a pouch that’s adorned with a netsuke charm of her okiya’s family crest. (The last item is only carried by geiko, in which the papers are used to write a note or wrap a gift in.)

Masano and Tomitae demonstrate how to play konpira fune fune.

Courtesy of Christina Liao

The night is filled with lighthearted conversation and jovial drinking games, but the pinnacle of the evening are the performances. I’m so focused on Masaki and the shamisen that she is tuning that I don’t even notice when the lights dim. Tomitae comes out first to enact “Spring Rain,” a seasonal number, before Masano joins her to dance “Gion Kouta,” the most popular in Kyoto. The delicate gestures are minimal and subtle, but incredibly graceful with a deliberate precision. Knees always bent to some degree, there’s certainly a level of strength that is involved. Every so often they bend their necks and slightly tilt their heads; a fan unfurls and is slowly swayed back and forth; hands are tucked into the kimono armholes, putting the furi (the piece of fabric that hangs below the sleeves) on display—all the while Masaki strums her string instrument and sings in a soothing, low-pitched voice.

Masaki, Masano, and Tomitae perform “Gion Kouta.”

Courtesy of Christina Liao

I cap off the night with a brief talk with Masami. Before I’m even summoned to the head of the table, the air of sophistication and maturity she exudes is almost intimidating, paired with an indescribable allure. She has a firm tone but a calm and steady voice. I learn that she never had traditional training, but given that she grew up in a household where her grandmother and mom were geiko, there wasn’t a particular need for such schooling. For the lucky few, Masami will still perform as a geiko, although only two days in the summer and 10 days in the fall. Otherwise, she’s busy running Man and overseeing Masaki and Masano while searching for two more maiko to add to her family.

At the end, I can’t help but be astounded by how such an old tradition can still thrive in this modern day. And while the practice is often misunderstood and misconstrued, what these women do is a form of art, and they are a symbol of Japan—not just embodying its heritage and culture, but its incomparable hospitality as well. Unable to wed until they’ve chosen to retire, it takes unwavering determination and discipline to renounce what many deem as a “normal” lifestyle. It may not be entertainment that you or I are accustomed to, but it’s a practice that some women, like Masami, have dedicated their lives to. And while whether or not they’re laughing at your jokes because conviviality is their job or if they are genuinely charmed comes into question, you leave an ochaya in blithe spirit, and that’s really the point, isn’t it?

Dinners with geisha can cost upward of several hundreds of dollars. For those who aren’t quite willing to splurge, here are some other ways you can see geiko and maiko in Kyoto:

The lobby of Four Seasons Hotel Kyoto, where a maiko performs every Saturday and Sunday night.

Photo: Ken Seet / Courtesy of Four Seasons Hotel Kyoto

Weekend Maiko Performances at the Four Seasons Hotel Kyoto
Kyoto’s newest hotel and the chain’s second endeavor in the country (following Four Seasons Hotel Tokyo, Marunouchi) just opened last October and is making its mark in the Ancient City. Contemporary and chic, it’s the kind of place you want to see and be seen, as is evident when you spot all of the high-society women dining at its establishments at any given time of the day. Pushing its captivating beauty aside, Four Seasons Hotel Kyoto hosts weekly maiko performances on Saturday and Sunday nights, where she dances in the lobby for about 10 minutes before making her rounds through the restaurants to greet guests or proceeding to the teahouse ensconced in the hotel’s 800-year-old pond garden to play drinking games for the remainder of the hour. But if you do want to arrange for an ozashiki asobi, they can do that for you as well.

Attend Annual Dance Festivals
Each kagai puts on its own dance every year, along with a special performance that combines geiko and maiko from all five hanamachi. These six annual events are the perfect opportunities to experience a group of these masterful entertainers for a small fee—just make sure you time your trip accordingly.

One-Stop Shop at Gion Corner
Touristy? Yes. But if you’re on a time crunch and want to catch a glimpse of multiple traditional Japanese performing arts, then Gion Corner is the most convenient option.

Tourists often rent kimonos to wear around Kyoto. Here, three Japanese girls pose for a photo in Gion.

Photo: Courtesy of Christina Liao

Walk Around Gion
Lastly, if you have the time to spare, stroll around the five kagai around 5:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m., or late in the evenings around midnight, in an attempt to catch a glimpse of them as they head out to an ochaya or are heading back to their okiya, respectively. Given that the Gion district has two hanamachi, it’s probably your best bet of seeing geiko and maiko. If you’re lucky and really tuned-in, you might even notice one shopping on her day off at traditional stores like Kintakedo, but keep in mind that she won’t be in her expensive garb and full hair and makeup. Otherwise, weave your way in and out of the picturesque side streets and alleyways that are filled with machiya townhouses, but make sure you keep your eyes peeled, be patient, and have your camera at the ready.