A Five-Year Drying Process, Tended to Every Few Hours

During the Edo period, Nagoya flourished as the premier castle town of the Owari-Tokugawa clan. From the Meiji Restoration to today, it has remained one of Japan's three major metropolitan hubs. In this bustling city, a crossroads for people and culture, Kusitome Shoten has been crafting combs for 120 years. Today, the legacy is carried on by third-generation master Shingo and his son, fourth-generation artisan Hideaki, who meticulously uphold the traditions established by the founder.

'The founder was originally from Mie Prefecture,' Shingo explains. 'After apprenticing as a comb maker there, he moved to Nagoya in 1903. He initially set up his workshop in Higuchi-cho, right by the castle. But the workshop was destroyed in an air raid, forcing him to evacuate to Ichinomiya, a city just north of Nagoya, for about a year. Afterward, he relocated here to Kita Ward, which is quite close to the original spot.'

The process of handcrafting a comb at Kusitome Shoten requires an almost unbelievable amount of time and dedication. They start with domestically sourced boxwood—an expensive but ideal material for combs. After the raw wood is milled into planks, it undergoes a five-year process of air-drying and smoking. This involves slowly smoking the wood, adding fresh wood shavings to the kiln every two to three hours, day in and day out. 'We can't really take trips together as a family,' chuckles Hideaki. 'If one of us leaves, the other has to stay behind to tend to the kiln. We have to take turns.'

They showed me the kiln just outside the workshop. Inside, rows of pitch-black planks were enveloped in a thick, white smoke. As Shingo opened the door, the smoke billowed out, swirling around me as it mixed with the cool air. 'Most people would probably think the raw, clean planks are more beautiful. You've never seen anything like this, have you?' he asks. While Kusitome Shoten painstakingly smokes their wood for years, mass-producers might only do it once for a week or ten days. The deep, jet-black stain on these planks is a testament to the immense time and tireless effort poured into them.

The Anti-Static Comb Cherished by Professional Hairstylists

Once the five-year preparation of the wood is complete, the artisans begin a process called kidori, where they mark out the dimensions for each comb. Next comes the planing. They shave a thin layer from the surface of the smoked plank to reveal its unique grain. This is a crucial step, as the pattern of the grain determines the final form of the comb.

'As I work the wood, ideas just spring to mind about how to finish it,' says Shingo. 'It's like having a conversation with nature—a dialogue between the wood's unique character on that particular day and my own creative impulse. I'll suddenly picture the kind of person or hairstyle this specific comb would be perfect for.'

Then comes hazuri, the process of polishing the teeth. Each side of a single tooth is filed around 50 times, meaning 100 passes per tooth. For a comb with 50 teeth, that's 5,000 strokes in total. The artisans meticulously shape every single tooth, using a succession of tools from files and sandpaper to the traditional tokusa (horsetail plant), moving to progressively finer grits.

While many modern comb makers use electric polishers, Shingo insists, 'We don't do that here.' This painstaking manual labor is what makes all the difference in the final product. The result is a comb that generates virtually no static electricity. The meticulous polishing minimizes friction between the comb's teeth and the hair, preventing the static buildup that causes frizz.

'Think about sumo wrestlers and kabuki actors—their hairstyles are so intricate and perfect,' Shingo notes. 'You can't create those styles if the hair gets frizzy with static every time you comb it. The same goes for our everyday customers. People are always amazed, saying, "So *this* is what a real boxwood comb feels like!" and they become devoted users.'

This is precisely why Kusitome Shoten's combs are the tool of choice for tokoyama—the specialized hairstylists for the worlds of sumo and kabuki.

The Pride of Supporting Traditional Japanese Hairstyles

Shingo is 79 this year. He has been involved in the family business for over 60 years, starting with helping with deliveries when he was in elementary school. In junior high, he began learning how to polish the teeth of the combs for a few hours each day, and after graduating from high school, he fully immersed himself in the world of comb making.

"I took it over because it was there, like climbing a mountain. I was clumsy, you know," says Shingo.

He speaks with humility, but one doesn't win the Medal with Yellow Ribbon, as he did in 2017, simply by 'climbing the mountain that was there.' He is an undeniable master craftsman. He describes the rewarding nature of comb making as, "the pride of supporting traditional Japanese hairstyles, and the artisan’s honor in doing what others won't—in going above and beyond."

Combs were once a daily necessity. It's said that Nagoya alone used to have 30 comb shops. Today, however, only Kusitome Shoten remains. Across the entire country, only a handful of artisans who insist on handmade techniques are left. Speaking about the dwindling traditional craft, Shingo's expression darkens. "As long as Japan exists, I hope the craft continues, even on a small scale. We live in the age of AI. It can create imitations, and most people are satisfied with that." However, there is still an insurmountable gap between what machines can do and what human hands can achieve.

"I go to department stores and events in Tokyo, Osaka, and other cities for live demonstrations and sales," Shingo explains. "I'll hand a comb to a customer and say, ‘Go ahead, try it.’ The look on their face is incredible. Every single person gasps in surprise. After a few strokes, their expression melts into an indescribable smile as they realize, ‘So *this* is a real comb.’ Seeing that reaction is my greatest joy these days."

Hideaki emerges from the back of the workshop with a selection of combs. He spreads them out on a scarlet rug laid over the workshop’s wooden floor. Combs of all different shapes appear, each with unique teeth spacing, size, and thickness. Through conversation with a customer, letting them feel the combs, the perfect one is chosen and 'married off' to its new owner.

"Comb making is my life’s purpose," Shingo reflects. "I always strive for a perfect score of 100, but achieving perfection is impossible. However, if a customer tells me, ‘I truly treasure this comb,’ then for that person, I feel I might have delivered a 100-point product. I believe my work will only truly be judged after I’m gone."