Cultural Immersion and Pop Culture: Costuming and Cosplay While Traveling

I once relegated cosplay—defined as “the practice of dressing up as a character from a movie, book, or video game”—to the realm of sci-fi and comic book conventions or to the live-action role-playing (LARPing) club that enacted mock battles in the courtyard at my university. That limited view changed when I first went to a cherry blossom festival.

In Japan, the sakura or blooming cherry trees have a great cultural significance. For centuries, they have been planted and admired for their ephemeral beauty, reminiscent of our mortality. Picnicking under the trees, a tradition known as hanami, was once reserved for royalty. Now, practically every city and town in Japan has a cherry blossom park, and the entire nation—along with an annual influx of tourists—eagerly awaits the forecast of peak bloom.

Cherry blossom festivals are also held around the world. The National Cherry Blossom Festival in Washington, D.C. commemorates the 3,000 cherry trees gifted to the city by Tokyo’s mayor in 1912. In Nashville, Tennessee, over 1,000 cherry trees have been planted. These events are not just about the trees, however; they are also showcases of Japanese culture.

When I stepped into the festive atmosphere of Nashville’s Public Square Park, I was surrounded by two distinct yet related forms of costuming: traditional garments and pop culture cosplay. Here’s what I learned.

Kimono with Cherry Blossoms in Nashville Photo: Cara Siera

Cultural Immersion Through Clothing

What we wear is deeply connected with our identity. Clothes have long been considered a means of self-expression.

I’ve written before that food is one of the most intimate ways to connect with another culture. Donning the traditional clothing of a region can likewise be immersive and educational.

At the Cherry Blossom Festival’s Ginza Marketplace, I found a booth selling beautiful floral-patterned kimonos. Two elderly women of Japanese descent explained each part and helped shoppers fold and tie the kimonos in the traditional way. They explained that, unlike most Western styles, an hourglass figure isn’t the goal. Instead, the dress and belt should form a rectangle or cylinder around the body.

I wanted to wear a kimono, too. I wanted in this special way to be a part of the fleeting cultural environment that the festival created—one of Japanese street food, the pounding of the Taiko drums, and the distillation of thousands of years of culture.

But I wanted to do it right. I didn’t just want to wear a kimono as a costume, a caricature of the culture. I wanted to understand where it came from and all its parts.

How to Wear a Kimono

Originally, the word kimono simply meant “clothing,” but in modern times, it has come to refer to a specific robe-like garment that is still used as formal dress for special occasions. I learned that women wear a kimono undergarment called nagajuban or juban. It’s a white garment that looks much like a kimono or similar yukata robe and ties at the waist. It forms the white collar seen beneath the neck of the kimono.

Then, you place the kimono on top. Most are long, so you raise the middle until the hem is above the floor. Then, you fold it around yourself with the right-hand panel closest to your body. This is important because according to funeral traditions, only corpses are wrapped with the left-hand side first.

Next, you tie a ropelike sash called a koshihomo or himo around the waist to hold the kimono in place. Fold the extra material from the top of the kimono over the himo. Finally, you finish the look with an obi sash. The bow or knot on the back also has significance, denoting the age of the wearer or the formality of the event. Fortunately, many modern obis come pre-tied, much like a clip-on bow tie. Then the braided obijime cord is tied around the sash to help support the bow.

Kimonos are often worn with geta sandals. These wooden sandals are a bit like flip-flops, though some have short wooden platforms on the bottom. Unlike, flip-flops, you wear socks with your geta. These are called tabi socks. Glovelike, they have separate sections for the big toe and the other toes so that the thong of the flip-flop can slip between the toes.

What About Cultural Appropriation?

Decked in juban, kimono, himo, obi, obijime, tabi, and geta, I attended the festival once again. Was the learning curve worth it? Yes! The kimono became a talking point with many fellow festival-goers, both Japanese expats and local cultural enthusiasts. As I ate, looked, and listened, I felt more a part of what was going on than I had on the first occasion.

What, though, about the dangers of cultural appropriation? Some fear that adopting the cultural imagery of a foreign land might be seen as inappropriate or disrespectful. In my experience, the opposite has been true—most people are delighted to see your enthusiasm for their culture.

Another Example in Papua New Guinea

This was especially evident on a trip to the island nation of Papua New Guinea. Women’s everyday wear consists of a shirt or dress called a meri blouse. It’s a colorful garment similar to the Hawaiian muumuu that can be worn on its own or over pants or a skirt.

When our guide took us to a local street market, I approached a woman with hundreds of rainbow-hued meri blouses swaying in the wind. She helped me find one that would fit, as they are handmade and not in standard sizes. She also explained that while older women usually wore them as-is, younger women sometimes cinched the waist with a belt. When I wore the meri blouse to an event later that week, many women approached me and expressed appreciation. Some who were not fluent in English simply touched the garment and smiled. These interactions wouldn’t have happened if not for the meri blouse.

Papua New Guinea Dancers Photo: Shutterstock

Connection Through Cosplay

At the Cherry Blossom Festival, many attendees dressed as their favorite anime characters. In the afternoon, they were brought center-stage for an anime costume contest.

At first glance, one might assume that these cosplayers were only interested in the imaginary worlds of Japanese animation. But those cartoons have also served as an introduction to Japanese culture. They contain references to Japanese foods, clothing styles, and mythology. Many of the cosplayers had learned words and phrases in Japanese and had bucket listed a visit to the country.

Cosplay, of course, is not limited to cartoons. When a film favorite returned to theaters, I decided to check it out for myself.

Trying Out Cosplay with Plausible Deniability

In 2022, NPR reported on a TikTok trend called “#gentleminions” in which teenage boys dressed up in suits to see the film Minions: The Rise of Gru. Another sequel, Jurassic World: Dominion had been released a month prior. It was still in theaters, so I decided to give cosplay a try.

The Jurassic Park franchise held a zoo full of childhood memories for me, and the casting of actors from the original film brought that feeling full circle. So, I decided to dress up as my childhood hero Ellie Sattler (Laura Dern). The costume was simple enough—a salmon-colored button-down shirt over a blue tank top, khaki shorts, and brown hiking boots.

It was so simple, in fact, that no one noticed I was cosplaying. I wore it to the movie theater. I wore it to view animatronic dinosaurs at night at the Nashville Zoo’s Dino Trek.  And, I wore it to ride the Jurassic Park-themed rides at Universal Orlando and to view the fossil exhibit at the Orlando Science Center.

No one noticed, but I enjoyed it. Dressing like a fictional paleontologist reconnected me with childhood dreams of becoming a paleontologist that I’d given up on long ago.

But this cosplay experience didn’t invoke the connection with other people that I had previously observed. So I tried again.

Disney Bound with Minnie Mouse Photo: Cara Siera

#DisneyBound

During the pandemic, I occasionally passed the time watching videos of influencers who contrived Disney-inspired outfits using things they already had in their wardrobes. A pair of yellow shorts and a blue shirt conjured images of Snow White; a blue shirt, nitrile gloves, and face paint represented the Genie from Aladdin.

 Then I discovered the term for this: #disneybound. Since adults aren’t allowed to wear full costumes at Disney parks, many get into the spirit by wearing ordinary clothes that still call to mind the characters’ famous outfits.

While taking friends and family members on a tour of the best free things around Disney, I decided to dial up the fun by wearing #disneybound inspired by Minnie Mouse—a vintage dress, red with white polka-dots, and a set of Minnie Mouse ears. I was surprised to observe more engagement with the resort staff. One cast member pushing a cart of linens called out, “Hello, Minnie, welcome. I didn’t know we were expecting a celebrity today.”

The same was true when I wore a Jedi robe to explore Galaxy’s Edge at Disney’s Hollywood Studios. Cast members—those in character costumes and those working the shops and restaurants—smiled in surprise when greeted with “Bright suns” or “May the Spires keep you,” lingo created for the fictional planet of Batuu. This “in character” interchange provided fun photo opportunities, as many of the costumed characters stopped to chat—a relatively rare experience in Galaxy’s Edge.

Conclusion

When worn with an attitude of curiosity and respect, cultural clothing can serve as a segue for interaction and engagement with another culture. It’s been said that to understand another person you should ‘walk a mile in their shoes.’ You can foster immersive and educational experiences by literally wrapping yourself in the cloths and colors others hold dear. I’ve made it a custom to seek out culturally relevant clothing and learn about it each time I travel.

In a similar way, cosplay helps you connect with other people in imaginative environments and the real-world cultures that inspired them. And in the end, it’s simply fun.

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