Why patchwork is the pattern this season.

Boro, the Japanese craft tradition of repairing textiles with overstitched patches of old clothing, got its big Hollywood moment in Mr Martin Scorsese’s 2017 opus Silence. Though it was this movie’s cinematography that earned it an Oscar nomination, it was costume designer Mr Dante Ferretti’s use of beautifully battered boro clothing that powerfully evoked the setting of 17th-century rural Japan.

Boro has been slowly filtering into the Western popular consciousness for a while now, most notably via Mr Kyoichi Tsuzuki’s 2009 book Boro: Rags And Tatters From The Far North Of Japan, and its offshoot exhibition at Somerset House, London, in 2014. But Silence really brought the clothing to life. It will have been a welcome sight for the numerous designers who, in recent years, have been turning more and more to boro (which roughly translates as castaway rag) for inspiration.

“Boro was created by the poorest peasants in the northern Japanese farmlands,” says Mr Tsuzuki, explaining the discipline’s 16th-century origins. “The climate was too cold to grow cotton and silk was too expensive, so the only material these peasants used to spin and weave was linen (hemp). Usually they only had one or two items of linen clothing each. And they were so poor, they used to keep the smallest pieces of old material, and even thread, then weave them on top of their worn-out clothes, futon blankets and so on.”

Throughout the Edo period (1603-1868), when southerners discarded their indigo-dyed clothing, seafaring traders would also sell the fabric to these impoverished peasants in the north. The woman of the villages would use intricate, stab-like sashiko stitching to create patchwork farmers’ jackets (noragi) and futon covers (futongawa) that became more elaborately layered as they were passed down through the generations. Not unlike the geometric quilts made by the African American craftswomen from the Gee’s Bend community in Alabama, boro clothing became like abstract works of art.

“For me, what is so great about boro is that originally the items were not at all made with any kind of design point of view,” says Mr Tsuzuki. “It was a pure survival tool.” Despite its inherent beauty, after WWII, boro was disowned by Japanese people. “Boro was hidden for a long time because it was a negative symbol of the poor northern district,” says Mr Tsuzuki. It has only been in the past few years, with the help of collectors such as ethnologist and author Mr Chuzaburo Tanaka (who has amassed more than 30,000 pieces of Japanese folk art and supplies Tokyo’s Amuse Museum), that boro has been introduced to a new generation who are reviving this ancient craft.

Fashion has always been keen on recycling, but boro first appeared in contemporary collections thanks to Japanese conceptualist designers. When Comme des Garçons’ boro-inspired patchwork shirts were stocked in stores such as Dover Street Market, it was a natural progression for one of the original 1980s deconstructionists. And while patchwork had been used before by Mr Junya Watanabe, in his SS15 Indigo collection, boro became a direct reference.

Folksy Japanese brand Kapital (which takes its name from Kojima, the “denim capital” of Japan) has continued this tradition with various boro pieces (think beautifully battered jackets, jeans and hats) as part of its Kountry remake collection. “We were not purposely trying to make boro initially,” says Mr Kiro Hirata, who works as head designer at Kapital alongside his father Mr Toshikiyo Hirata, who founded the company in 1984. “Because we were always experimenting and developing our denim processing techniques, what we were doing just became boro naturally over time. But I would say we mastered the skills and techniques to make boro about 10 years ago.” What was it that drew them to boro? “I get inspired by old things,” says Mr Hirata. “I especially found boro beautiful because of its patchwork and sashiko techniques, the beautiful blue gradation from the ageing indigo, and importantly the [sense of] mottainai [non-waste and re-appreciation].”

Plenty of other Japanese designers are rediscovering boro, from Mr Daiki Suzuki’s Needles, with its mismatched Rebuild flannel and camo shirts, to Sasquatchfabrix., which, last winter, fielded shirts and tees that were covered with quilt-like sashiko stitching. And Western brands seem to be referencing boro in their collections, too. As well as being an avid collector of deconstructionists such as Mr Christopher Nemeth, Louis Vuitton artistic director Mr Kim Jones gathers pieces of boro on his travels to Japan. So it was natural that for his SS13 collection, he collaborated with Kapital on several boro-inspired pieces. “I was really impressed with his interest and knowledge in Japanese culture, especially in boro,” says Mr Hirata. “He is always looking around the world for something fresh.”

Elsewhere, and more recently, the cut-and-paste aesthetic of Mr Jonathan Anderson at Loewe has resulted in a patched, overstitched jacket that owes an obvious debt to boro. Then there’s Dries Van Noten’s SS17 collection, in which richly coloured oversized patchwork parkas, such as this one, continued the designer’s deconstruction aesthetic. For SS17, even Valentino referenced boro with a patchwork indigo jacket and shirt. And By Walid’s artisanal bomber jackets used Mr Walid al Damirji’s collection of vintage textiles to bring a romantic twist on boro, complete with sashiko-like stitching.

Then there is the burgeoning secondary market for boro in the West. Set up in Shoreditch in 2009, Rospo Indigo specialises in Japanese and French vintage wear. Its boro scarves, in particular, have become increasingly in demand with clients who want to add a one-off accessory to their 1940s French chore jacket. Last winter, Vintage Showroom in London’s Covent Garden also acquired some beautiful boro scarves that were soon snapped up by the cult store’s customers.

So why is this ancient skill still relevant in the 21st century? “Boro is a rural craft, not an antique piece,” says Mr Hirata. “And as a rural craft it is carried on, simply for everyday use. I think we are just rediscovering its importance and beauty again in our generation.”