We arrived in Osaka with a delegation of journalists and of American and French models. The airport security services were very nervous as a crowd has come to see the Paris Haute Couture landed in Osaka.
When suddenly, as in a Kurosawa film, a Japanese women dressed in a traditional kimono quietly passed the security line. Small and quite old, she walked as those Japanese women under the yoke of 2000 years of history.
For a moment time stopped, then he took off, when the security noticed that she was not part of the protocol. They stopped her two meters from me. She shouted something in Japanese that I did not understand.
« What does she say, » I asked my translator: « thank you for my son, Mr. Mouclier. »
I asked the security to let her free to move. She looked into her kimono while approaching and said: « That’s for you, Mr. Mouclier san, to whom we owe the gratitude of our family in the world of fashion as the name of my son is now famous » and she handed me a small Japanese pill box as a gift, and kept repeating « for my son, Mouclier San, domo aligato gosaïmass. For my son, Kenzo Takada. »
Jacques Mouclier