Modern Kyoto, Modern Geisha

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The Modern Odori

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Undated. Personal collection of the author

This scene would have stirred the pride of any interwar-era Kyoto booster. This was no old city stuck in a receding past. Here were all the elements of a modern city on the make.

There was the imposing concrete Shijo Bridge, finished in 1913, designed to shoulder the city's new fleet of streetcars. Rolling along the river's east bank were yet more tracks, these for the Keihan commuter line, which clattered into Kyoto from Osaka in 1910, and which by 1915 had extended its terminus right into the heart of the city. On the river's opposite bank stood a remarkable Spanish Revival confection of concrete and steel. Completed in 1926, this restaurant, called Yaomasa, was four tantalizing floors of oysters, beefsteak, and chicken hotpot, accompanied by cocktails and beer. Yaomasa anchored the northern end of a whole fleet of fashionable new restaurants trailing southward along the riverbank that in the interwar years became a trendy spot for fashionable dining (Katō 2021). Finally, snaking north from the bridge, nestled the tiled roofs of the Pontocho geisha district, punctuated at the end by a large, chunky, three-story building of brick, concrete and steel that opened in 1927. The Pontocho theater (kaburenjō) housed the Kamogawa Odori and the classrooms for the Pontocho geisha school. In a thoroughly modern style, it was not what most would expect in a geisha district as old and venerable as Pontocho. But then again, it was a powerful symbol of a district determined to be out front.

Between the Shijo Bridge (1913) and the Pontocho Theater (1927), this one scene had taken the city a mere fourteen years to assemble. And it did not even include two startling additions right across the Shijo Bridge: a brand new building for the Minamiza kabuki theater (1929) and a surprising Expressionist-style building in stone housing a Western-style restaurant named Kikusui (1926).

Gion and Pontocho therefore sat near the heart of Kyoto's modern, electric-lit, playground of dining, shopping and theaters. This not only gave geisha the opportunity to taste modern urban leisure for themselves, it also made it easier to weave their work into the landscape of Kyoto's popular modern amusements.

Another image of Yaomasa restaurant, this time showing off its glittering glamour by night. A walk out the restaurant's door to the other side of the street brought customers to the southern entrance of the Pontocho geisha district

Undated. Personal collection of the author

Miyako Odori program cover (1934). Personal collection of the author

Waiting for the curtain to rise, Odori audiences could pass the time leafing through their program which included a potted history of the Odori, descriptions of each dance scene, and photos of all the performers. But the bulk of the pages were advertisements.

Given that geisha entertainment so frequently centered on alcohol, beer and sake ads were yearly staples. But the range of businesses buying space in the program is striking, and many of the products for sale were aggressively modern: beer halls and photography studios, pianos and radios, western umbrellas and phonograph records, cosmetics and hats. There were also fashionable new restaurants, movie theaters and nightclubs. Even at a snail's pace, the vast majority of these products and services were less than a ten-minute walk from the Odori theaters. Gion and Pontocho were therefore ideally situated to participate in Kyoto's emerging culture of middle-class leisure.

Below are a small sample of advertisements in the interwar Miyako Odori and Kamogawa Odori programs that show how audiences and merchants integrated geisha and their annual Odori performance into the broader stream of popular middle-class modern entertainments, including fashion, shopping, dining, and the popular theater.

Fashion

Using the Pontocho Theater's brick exterior as a stylish backdrop, two geisha model the latest "Western umbrellas, shawls, and high class goods" available at the Ishikawa shop, just 250 meters west of Pontocho.

1930 Kamogawa Odori program. Personal collection of the author

Department Stores

The Flowers of spring! The Odori of Spring! For spring items, head to Daimaru.

Daimaru department store began as a dry goods shop in the Edo period, but in 1908 transitioned to a department store. Every year its advertisements lured Odori fans to browse the latest seasonal fashions. Marubutsu department store, close to Kyoto station, also reminded out-of-town Odori visitors to take in its high-quality, modern consumer goods before boarding the train for home.

1931 Miyako Odori program. Personal collection of the author

Radios

Katō radio shop showed off its latest radios vacuum tubes next to a scene (left) from that year's Odori. Customers could then listen in at home as Gion geisha broadcast a tokiwazu music recital (below), or tune into a live broadcast of the Miyako Odori.

1931 Miyako Odori program, and Gigei Kurabu (January 1936). Personal collection of the author

Fabric and School Uniforms

Marusan specialized in fabric and school uniforms for girls. The stylish mannequins with bobbed hair, and the sleek Art Deco typography sent a clear message that Marusan would keep you and your children at the cutting edge of fashion.

1933 Miyako Odori program. Personal collection of the author

Nightlife

Simple, reasonably priced and glamorous.

The Kyoto branch of the Ginza Palace cabaret and cafe suggested Odori audiences might finish off the day amidst the glamor of its spectacular lighting and international atmosphere. Located on Shinkyōgoku street, the cafe sat at the heart of the city's premier destination for fashionable shopping, dining, dancing, and theaters. Pontocho and Gion were mere minutes away by trolley or a simple stroll.

1936 Kamogawa Odori program. Personal collection of the author

Cosmetics

No matter the color of your complexion, we have a face powder to match it perfectly.

Kagashi Cosmetics sold their face powder in seven tones, including pale yellow (a natural color perfect for the average Japanese woman, and recommended for having one's picture taken), and a rather daring light blue-green (for an amazing up-to-date look, just right for evening). This advertisement is a reminder that women formed a large part of every Odori audience.

1933 Kamogawa Odori program. Personal collection of the author

While men were the geisha's standard clientele, the Odori had many female fans. Advertisers pushed products specifically designed to appeal to women, including children's clothes and toys, handbags, cosmetics, interior design, and women's fashion accessories.

Photos of Odori performances that also include the audience are rare. However, in this early 1900s image of the Miyako Odori, we can see a considerable number of women enjoying the show. Along with advertisements for products aimed specifically at women, this photo also suggests that women were enthusiastic Odori fans, too.

Undated Miyako Odori postcard. Personal collection of the author

Movies

Tomorrow to the famed movie theater Kabukiza to spend half-a-day in pleasure...

Businesses along Shinkyōgoku street were particularly active advertisers in the annual Odori programs. The area was known for its heavy concentration of theaters and movie houses, and this 1928 advertisement suggests that the day following the Odori, fans might enjoy ogling two superstars of the early screen: Hayashi Chōjirō (right; later known under the name Hasegawa Kazuo) and Bandō Tsumasaburō.

1928 Miyako Odori program. Personal collection of the author

Phonograph Records

A cheerful spring means Polydor dance records.

Jūjiya — Kyoto's first shop to sell Western musical instruments — promoted (left) its wide selection of phonograph records, and (right) often reminded Kamogawa Odori fans that they could purchase a recording of the year's main Odori theme song on the Polydor label.

1933 and 1934 Kamogawa Odori programs

Personal collection of the author

1939 Miyako Odori program. Personal collection of the author

1934 Kamogawa Odori program. Personal collection of the author

Fashionable Dining

Kyoto's most popular Japanese-Western dining hall.

Yaomasa (see above) might be the king of fashionable dining in Kyoto, but many places advertised their own novel menus and modern decor. With its exciting mixture of Western and Japanese food, for instance, Itoya (right) beckoned diners with an a la carte menu on the first floor, a large dining hall on the second, and a beer hall on the third.

Meanwhile, a rival restaurant named Mimatsu (left) showed off its elegant interior where it, too, served a mixture of Japanese and Western dishes.

Photographs

For photos, it's Bijindō.

Sandwiched between Gion and Pontocho, Bijindō photo studio advertised frequently in the Odori programs. Not only could clients get their picture made, it was also the city's premier destination for geisha bromides: postcard-sized souvenir portraits of Kyoto's top geisha and legends on the Odori stage. On the right, for example, is a Bijindō maiko bromide from the 1930s.

1937 Miyako Odori program. Personal collection of the author

Undated Bijindō maiko bromide. Personal collection of the author

In short, advertisements in the Miyako Odori and Kamogawa Odori programs reveal how both the audience and local merchants viewed the Odori as part of a broader range of popular entertainment. The proprietor of Kojunsha Cafe (left), for instance, assumed Odori fans would also be interested in trying his Arabian Mocha coffee on the first floor, and his "bright, cheerful Grand Cabaret" in the basement.

These advertisements therefore demonstrate that few considered the Odori a "traditional" entertainment in conflict with the countless modern amusements crowding around the Odori theaters. The annual Odori were seamlessly integrated into a modern culture of urban play and leisure.

1933 Miyako Odori program. Personal collection of the author

Geisha Odori Take Japan by Storm

The Odori's popularity in Kyoto helped inspired geisha all across Japan to craft their own local performances, making Odori a fixture of modern entertainment in both cities and provincial towns.

In 1925, for instance, the geisha of Shinbashi in Tokyo announced the first “Azuma Odori,” which they produced at least in part so that Kyoto geisha would no longer “laugh at Tokyo geisha for not having a distinctly Tokyo-odori” (“Tokyo Geisha Build Theater” 1925).

Meanwhile, geisha at hot springs resorts (onsen) entertained overnight guests with original Odori spectaculars celebrating nearby scenery and the region’s local charms. The Miyako and Kamogawa Odori were therefore a significant contribution not just to Kyoto's interwar modern entertainment landscape, but to the development of amusements in many parts of Japan.

Performers at the inaugural Azuma Odori in Shinbashi in 1925. Personal collection of the author

The Sparrow Dance from the 1928 Date Odori in Fukuoka Prefecture (above), and geisha advertising their Ina Odori (right, undated) in Nagano Prefecture suggest the popularity of the Odori format among geisha working throughout Japan in the 1920s and 1930s.

Personal collection of the author

The Battle of Tsushima

In 1930, to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the major Japanese naval victory against the Russians at the Battle of Tsushima, the geisha of Yokosuka took off their kimono and threw on sailors' togs.

Personal collection of the author

Obako Odori

The geisha of Tsuruoka, Yamagata Prefecture, show off their homegrown Obako Odori while wearing special kimono with “Obako” (おば古) written down the front.

Personal collection of the author

Haru Odori

The geisha of Nagaoka, Niigata Prefecture, practicing for their Haru Odori.

Personal collection of the author

Ōgaki Geisha Revue

Geisha in Ōgaki, Gifu Prefecture, went so far as to put on, not an “Odori” but a “revue,” borrowing the term — and the modern glamor — from popular revues like Takarazuka and the OSK.

Personal collection of the author

Cosmetics Odori program (ca. 1932). Personal collection of the author

The Odori format became so popular that beginning around 1926, the Nagoya branch of Matsuzakaya department store even hired local geisha to put on an annual Cosmetics Odori in the store's main hall. Promoting domestically-produced makeup, the Odori celebrated "the cheerful, healthy and chic Japanese classics getting a modern taste!"

Like Pontocho's Kamogawa Odori, the Cosmetics Odori featured two Western-style musical numbers to spice up the performance.

Even as geisha across Japan expermineted with their own Odori, Kyoto’s Kamogawa Odori and Miyako Odori remained the gold standard. Live radio broadcasts, gramophone recordings, and printed media coverage all helped spread the fame of Pontocho and Gion across the nation.

Even Tokyo residents invited Gion and Pontocho geisha to perform limited engagements in the capital. This postcard (left) shows the Miyako Odori being performed at Tokyo’s Kokugikan stadium, almost certainly in October 1939 at the Grand Chrysanthemum Festival (菊花大会).

Personal collection of the author

Likewise, in 1918 Pontocho geisha were invited to perform the Kamogawa Odori for ten days at Tokyo's Kabukiza Theater. This postcard (right) gushes about the famed "Kyoto beauties" forming a ricksha parade outside the theater decorated with Pontocho's famous plover lanterns.

Personal collection of the author

Dance! Dance! Dance!

Kyoto's modern entertainment culture did not just grow up around geisha and the places they worked. Many geisha actively threw themselves into this culture of leisure, striving to make their work both relevant and exciting. One especially striking example was a phenomenon known as the "dance geisha" (ダンス芸者).

In 1921 the owner of a geisha teahouse in Osaka’s Minami district concluded that Japanese dance was dead. It had nothing to say to the modern world. Kawai Kōshichirō (河合幸七郎) argued that geisha could only survive with a new repertoire, new costumes and new music. Gathering interested Minami district geisha, he assembled a dance troupe called Kawai Dance (河合ダンス). He told them to study ballet and modern dance, and to learn the saxophone and the xylophone. And he dressed them in costumes more suitable for the cabaret than the teahouse. By 1925 they had appeared on major stages in Osaka and Tokyo (“Kawai Dansu” 1928, 857–61; Hida 1991, 50–55; Watanabe 2002, 100–03; Nagai 2024, 102-11).

While media attention focused on the entrepreneur Kawai Kōshichirō, his success depended on star geisha like Komagiku (right), who in 1930 traveled to France to study ballet and modern dance for a year. She returned to stun audiences with signature numbers like her "Assyrian Dance." Komagiku and her colleagues were at the very cutting edge experimenting with what a modern geisha could do.

In fact, Kawai advised his dancers to quit geisha work and focus on their dance careers. But some geisha in Kyoto saw no tension between their work and the dance geisha trend. Why not try it?

Kawai Dance troupe's leading star, Komagiku, performing her "Assyrian Dance" (n.d.). Personal collection of the author

Inevitably, some geisha patrons were not impressed. The writer Kema Nanboku, for instance, complained about geisha “dancing naked," and he particularly disliked a performance where geisha danced a chorus line with others dressed as “modern girls” and “modern boys" (Kema Nanboku 1930, 15–17).

But many others were intrigued. The novelist Hirayama Rokō, for instance, was smitten by a "dance geisha" who arrived wearing Western clothes, screwed a red lightbulb into the socket, and danced to gramophone records. “It’s really sophisticated and artistic,” he wrote, and if the trend continues “dance geisha may become something quite interesting.” (Hirayama 1933, 44–45).

Tokyo Shinbashi Nanchi geisha Hanazono Utako featured in a 1930 magazine spread of "cutting-edge geisha." Fūzoku zasshi (July 1930). Personal collection of the author

To promote these efforts in Kansai, the dance master Umemoto Rikuhei (楳茂都陸平) made plans to open a school of modern dance and transform the geisha world by choreographing "revue-style" performances that would be, as he promised "1000% erotic," and whose daring would even be envied in Europe and Hollywood ("Dokusha kara" 1930, 26.)

Far from opposed, a group of geisha patrons in Kyoto gathered to discuss the issue argued that if some districts wanted to, "they should embrace it fully." Done right, one discussant argued, the dances might even become a new Kyoto local landmark (meibutsu) ("Mondai" 1931, 58). Another observed that while he thought more orthodox geisha entertainment should also continue, the new, modern style might fit women not particularly gifted at the traditional geisha arts (Kiyomizu 1931, 69).

Rather than condemning dance geisha as a betrayal, then, some patrons and many geisha themselves welcomed the idea as a promising possibility for integrating geisha entertainment into the broader scope of modern popular amusements.

Students of Umemoto Rikuhei. Gigei Kurabu (May 1930). Personal collection of the author

Not every Kyoto geisha district jumped on the fad. Gion Kōbu, Shimabara and Kamishichiken seemed especially wary. But, by 1930, five of the city's eight districts were experimenting with lessons, which were soon overcrowded with geisha students. Knowing its reputation for staying ahead of trends, one patron said "for Pontocho, it's a natural" ("Mondai" 1931, 57). After all, young daughters of geisha had already been organized into the Pontocho Girls Revue (先斗町少女レビュー団), which was freely experimenting with new costumes and dance styles, such as the "Spanish Gypsy Dance" they performed to open the year in 1931. "It was not a traditional opening ceremony," a report noted, "but given the situation in Pontocho, it's how things there are done" ("Pontocho yūkaku shin'nen shigyōshiki" 1931, 31). And it seemed to be helping: the number of geisha teahouses in Pontocho rose from 152 in 1910 to 172 in 1930. A geisha district willing to embrace the modern had hope.

So on January 1, 1934, when Fukitani Tsuneko (left) debuted as Pontocho's newest geisha, wearing in a long flowing dress and a ribbon in her bobbed hair, there was a ripple of excitement but hardly any surprise. This, after all, was Pontocho.

Announcement of the debut of a "dance geisha" in Pontocho

Gigei Kurabu (January 1934). Personal collection of the author

Conclusion: Kyoto's Modern Geisha

In 1928, a Kyoto magazine featured the Pontocho geisha Asada Ichiyo stepping out in the latest style. "No," the cheeky caption at the top reads, "I'm not traveling abroad"

Gigei Kurabu (July, 1928). Personal collection of the author

This 1926 advertisement for a Gion restaurant called Nōen shows that many saw no conflict between the geisha profession and the stylish new dining and entertainment options of the modern city

Gigei Kurabu (September 1926). Personal collection of the author

As early as the Meiji period, city elders grasped the commercial value of satisfying a growing tourist market eager to experience Kyoto as a city of tradition (see Andrew Elliott's Inbound Tourism page).

But in the interwar years residents — and that included the geisha themselves — did not want to live in a museum. They wanted movie theaters, night clubs, department stores, dance halls, cocktail lounges, and the whole panoply of electric pleasures enjoyed by their contemporaries in Osaka, Berlin, New York, and Shanghai. Interviewed in 1936 for a leading women's magazine, the Gion maiko Kosome insisted, “most people think Gion is a very traditional place, but it’s actually extremely modern, because everyone studies the women’s magazines” (“Utsukushii Gion no maiko" 1931, 101). Likewise, a Gion geisha named Karayū helped spark a new fad for billiards among her colleagues. “Karayū-san began bringing her geisha friends” a magazine profile reported, and when they also began escorting their young clients there, “things soon became quite lively” (“Kyō Gion no dōkyū geiko” 1936, 25). Geisha were just as eager as anyone else to embrace a cosmopolitan modernity.

In a landmark work of scholarship, the historian Naoko Shibusawa dismisses geisha as “a very marginal cultural institution in Japanese society” (Shibusawa 2006, 12). Yet throughout the first decades of the twentieth century, geisha in Kyoto and all across Japan made themselves conspicuous through a broad swath of popular culture. They were featured on postcards and collectible photos, some became recording artists and even movie stars. Civic leaders asked them to perform for countless events, magazines featured their beauty and style, and tourists flocked to catch a glimpse. And through their annual public Odori dances geisha made their mark on the civic calendar.

As this resource has shown, interwar geisha in Kyoto and elsewhere were not merely tending the dying embers of "traditional" culture. Nor were they hidden away from a modern society. Instead, both as consumers and as working women, many actively embraced an emerging mass consumer culture of entertainment, spectacle, and leisure. Others hitched their future to dreams of empire with a revitalized "Japanese culture" at its center. Whichever path they took, few interwar geisha thought that their primary responsibility was to preserve the habits of the Edo period.

Sadly, postwar stereotypes of geisha as Japan's premier cultural custodians has overshadowed their enormous creativity as they found their footing in the modern world of the 1920s and 1930s.

This resource, then, is a small start at restoring to geisha the full vibrancy of their history.

Two Osaka geisha work a party in the early 1930s. From a geisha's private photo album. Personal collection of the author

Modern Geisha Home

The Geisha in Crisis

The Modern Odori

Bibliography and Acknowledgments

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