Walking slowly while trying not to laugh—my first experience as a Kyoto maiko (apprentice geisha)!

Text and photos / Excerpted from the book "Pretentious Youthful Travels in Kyoto and Osaka," authored by Fanfanmao and Guo Yina, provided by Jinguan Publishing House.

I once watched a movie called "Maiko Hahaha," which tells the story of a protagonist who keeps trying to play rock-paper-scissors with maiko. The plot is hilarious and left HowToTrip’s feline reviewer, Fanfanmao, with a deep impression of the maiko attire. In fact, the biggest difference between a maiko and a geisha (geiko) is that "maiko" is actually the term for an apprentice geisha. In the past, girls would start training as maiko at age 10 and officially become geisha at 16. There’s a lot to learn during this period, including culture, etiquette, language, decoration, dance, singing, as well as how to bow and pour drinks.

Due to the requirements of writing the book, I booked a maiko experience at the Four Seasons. When it was finally my turn, Fanfanmao was quite confident at first—thinking that with my deep facial features, no matter how they painted me, I’d still be recognizable. But when I looked in the mirror after the makeup, my first thought was: “Huh?! Who’s this white turtle-faced person?” Because the white makeup has a swelling effect, my whole face looked puffy, almost like a slightly paler version of Anpanman (a Japanese bread superhero)! Even NANA, who was waiting nearby, didn’t recognize me. This just goes to show—once you’re done with maiko makeup, even your own mother wouldn’t know it’s you.

Finally, we moved to the dressing area. I have to admit, having a bit of extra padding came in handy. There were two assistants helping with the kimono dressing in the room, so I was getting dressed alongside another girl who was much slimmer. She had to stuff extra pillows inside her kimono because she was so thin, whereas Fanfanmao didn’t need any padding at all. Once I put on the kimono, my fuller figure really showed, giving off a rather commanding presence. I think in my past life, I must’ve been a top-tier geisha in Japan.

 

I turned quite a few heads along the way. I’d say my outfit was a success, because many tourists asked to take photos with me—including a blonde, blue-eyed foreigner who spoke fluent Japanese. All Fanfanmao could do was smile back, not wanting to hurt the feelings of such an enthusiastic friend from abroad. I felt a bit vain, but also couldn’t help thinking: why does dressing up as a maiko suddenly make me more attractive to the opposite sex?

We did the makeup at noon and went for a walk in the afternoon, leaving no time for a meal in between. But once the wig was on, I realized I had zero appetite—it felt like a heavy stone pressing on my head. I couldn’t move my head around too much either, or it would pull on my hair. That’s when I truly understood why maiko and geisha always walk with such grace. You also can’t smile widely with your mouth open—the white face and red lips make it look like you’re mimicking a comedian like Ken Shimura. So all I could do was move lightly and maintain the image. At first, I thought the 45-minute walk would fly by, but after 20 minutes, it started feeling like an eternity—like my head was about to get squashed. Eventually, we returned to the Four Seasons, where the staff led me to a changing room equipped with full makeup removal and skincare supplies. Only after everything was taken off and I was back to normal did this truly unique maiko debut experience come to an end.