The scent of the sun and the shadow of the fold

In Japan, we have a collective obsession with hanging laundry outside. In some countries, I’ve heard that hanging clothes outdoors is seen as a sign of poverty, but in Japan, that perception doesn’t exist at all. Dosanko (Hokkaido locals) might have the strongest obsession of all. Have you ever seen the experiment where someone swings a wet towel outside in the middle of a Hokkaido winter? After a few rotations, the towel transforms into a “Hero’s Sword.” Because of this environment, we dry our laundry indoors during the winter. Since our stoves make the air so dry, clothes actually dry faster than in summer, while serving the vital role of maintaining indoor humidity.

Still, most of us crave that “scent of the sun” on our linens during the warmer months. But there is a dark side to this sun-drenched ritual that I simply cannot abide: folding. To me, folding laundry feels like a fundamental glitch in human logic. We spend precious minutes meticulously folding clothes, only to immediately unfold them the moment we need to put them on. Furthermore, it is not uncommon for minor disputes to arise between couples due to differences in folding rules inherited from their respective families. There is no doubt that this is casting a dark shadow over world peace, however slightly.

The KonMari epiphany

In search of a rational reason to convince myself to keep folding, I turned to the Internet. While some people proudly share high-speed folding hacks and others simply give up and live out of laundry baskets, it was Marie Kondo (KonMari) who finally offered a psychological lifeline.

Her Netflix-famous method isn’t really about “tidying” in the technical sense; it’s about the psychological effect of the act. Her philosophy suggests that folding isn’t a chore; it’s a reset. By smoothing the fabric and aligning the edges, we aren’t just organizing cotton—we are organizing our minds. It’s about the “spark of joy” that comes from a fresh start. It’s not about the efficiency of the closet; it’s about the state of the soul that opens it.

Welcoming the God of the new year

This idea of “cleaning for the soul” is deeply rooted in Japanese tradition. On the last working day of every year, we perform Osoji—a massive, top-to-bottom cleaning of our homes and workplaces to welcome the Toshigami (the god of the incoming year).

At the CondeHouse factory, our craftsmen spent their final hours of last year scrubbing every corner and organizing every tool. Logically, the machines don’t run better just because the floor is shiny. But mentally? We start the new year with a clarity and freshness that simply wouldn’t exist in a cluttered space. Perhaps folding laundry is our daily, mini-Osoji—a ritual to tell our brains that we are ready for a fresh start. So, I will keep folding my socks. Not because it’s rational, but because I’d rather face the day with a “neat soul” than a wrinkled one (or a family feud).

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In the spirit of KonMari, the Hatsune Miku Art Chair is a device designed to “Spark Joy” in your space. The meticulous polishing performed by our craftsmen is essentially the ultimate “folding” of wood—taking raw, chaotic nature and refining it with discipline and passion. On days when you feel defeated by the laundry pile, take a seat on this masterpiece. This perfectly ordered beauty will absorb your “entropy” and give you the courage to stand up and face those socks once more. It is a seat that brings the clarity of a New Year’s cleaning to your home, every single day.

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