Why Were Young Girls Called ‘Mezashi’?
When japanese people in modern society hear the word mezashi, nearly 100% of them would picture dried sardines sold in supermarkets. It literally translates to fish that are skewered through the eye and they are usually sold in bundles.
However, during the Heian and Kamakura periods, mezashi did not refer to fish.
Koyorogi no iso tachi narashi Isona tsumu mezashi nurasuna oki ni ore nami. (こよろぎの 磯たちならし 磯菜つむ めざしぬらすな 沖にをれ浪 : Do not splash the mezashi, running along the shores of koyorogi and gathering seaweed. Stay offshore, waves.)
This poem, recorded in Volume 20 of the Kokin Wakashu (古今和歌集), a poetry anthology compiled in the Heian period, was written by an anonymous poet from the eastern provinces—what is now the Kanto region and beyond. The phrase ‘koyorugi no Iso (こよるぎの磯)’ refers to the shores of Yorogi (余綾) District in Sagami (相模) Province (modern-day Kanagawa Prefecture), corresponding to the coastline stretching from Oiso (大磯) to Odawara (小田原).
The poem warns the waves to stay offshore so as not to splash the mezashi gathering seaweed along the shore of koyorogi. However, this does not mean that the poet was worried about seawater ruining dried fish. In this context, mezashi actually refers to young girls. The poet is calling upon the waves not to splash the maidens collecting seaweed on the shore.
But why were young girls called mezashi? The term originally referred to a particular hairstyle—hair that had grown long enough to fall over the forehead and nearly reach the eyes, as if ‘piercing’ them. From this, the word came to be used for girls with bangs of this length.
In the Heian period, women were expected to grow their hair long. Noblewomen who passed the mezashi stage and continued growing their hair would undergo the mogi (裳着, coming-of-age) ceremony at around the age of twelve or thirteen, during which they would don the mo (裳), a formal garment, for the first time. This ceremony also marked the moment when they would begin tying up their hair—until then, they had always worn it loose. Although they would continue to wear their hair down in everyday life, beauty in this era was strongly associated with long, flowing hair. Since noblewomen rarely showed their faces to men outside their own family, the beauty of their hair was considered one of the key aspects of their appearance—an idea that remains well known even today.
Praise for Suetsumuhana’s hair
Murasaki Shikibu (紫式部) ’s The Tale of Genji features many female characters, but one of the most uniquely depicted in terms of appearance is Suetsumuhana. Despite being of imperial lineage, she is portrayed as a secluded noblewoman who has fallen into decline. However, her strikingly large nose, elongated face, and overall thin physique contribute to her being described, quite frankly, as unattractive.
Yet, while Murasaki Shikibu is unsparing in her unflattering portrayal of Suetsumuhana’s features, she does not hold back in praising her hair:
Atamatsuki, kami no kakari wa shimo, utsukushige ni medetashi to omoi kikoyuru hitobito ni mo, osaosa otoru majiu, uchiki no suso ni tamarite hikaretaru hodo, isshaku bakari amari taramu to miyu.
(頭つき、髪のかかりはしも、うつくしげにめでたしと思ひきこゆる人びとにも、をさをさ劣るまじう、袿の裾にたまりて引かれたるほど、一尺ばかりあまりたらむと見ゆ。: Her head shape and the way her hair falls are in no way inferior to those of the most celebrated beauties. Her hair pools at the hem of her robes and extends about a foot beyond.)
However, given that this compliment comes after a rather harsh critique of her appearance, it almost reads as backhanded.
The Okagami (大鏡), a historical tale compiled in the late Heian period, mentions that Fujiwara no Hoshi (藤原芳子 or Yoshiko), a consort of Emperor Murakami (村上天皇) in the late tenth century, was renowned for her exceptionally beautiful hair. It is said that when she rode in an ox-drawn carriage, her hair was so long that while her body was already inside, the ends still trailed within the building. Additionally, when her hair was rolled up on paper, no white gaps were visible, indicating its remarkable thickness and length.
Although Okagami is a historical narrative rather than an official chronicle, and such extreme descriptions may not be entirely factual, there is often some truth behind legends. The text also praises Hoshi’s intelligence, beauty, and the deep affection the emperor held for her, suggesting that she was indeed blessed with extraordinarily beautiful hair.
Beautiful hair certainly attracts, however…
Many consorts entered Emperor Murakami’s court, but reigning as his empress (chugu, 中宮) was Fujiwara no Anshi (藤原安子 or Yasuko), who happened to be the cousin of the renowned beauty Fujiwara no Hoshi. Anshi’s elder brother, Kaneie (兼家), was the father of Fujiwara no Michinaga (藤原道長), making her Michinaga’s aunt.
The Okagami does not describe Anshi’s appearance, but if its accounts are to be believed, she and Hoshi lived in adjacent chambers within the imperial court. Unable to suppress her curiosity—and jealousy—over Hoshi’s famed beauty, Anshi supposedly went so far as to bore a hole in the partition between their rooms to catch a glimpse of her. Not stopping there, she even threw a shard of pottery through the opening in an act of petty harassment.
This angered the emperor, who assumed that Anshi’s brothers had encouraged her actions, leading to their temporary house arrest. Yet, despite his deep affection for Hoshi, when Anshi passed away at the age of thirty-eight, the emperor lamented, “Thinking of how much Anshi resented Hoshi, I cannot help but feel sorry for her. I now regret having favoured Hoshi so greatly,” and he ultimately distanced himself from her.
This tale reminds us that while beauty—hair included—can indeed captivate, what truly draws people in is the essence of a person themselves.
This article is translated from https://intojapanwaraku.com/culture/262032/
