The art of Furoshiki – Using cloth to wrap packages

furoshiki - wrapping gifts in cloth I found this great visual explanation on how to use cloth to wrap gifts on a Japanese government website. You can use any square or rectangular cloth.

Furoshiki (???, furoshiki) are a type of traditional Japanese wrapping cloth that were frequently used to transport clothes, gifts, or other goods. Although possibly dating back as far as the Nara period, the name, meaning “bath spread”, derives from the Edo period practice of using them to bundle clothes while at the sent? (public baths;public furo). Before becoming associated with public baths, furoshiki was known as hirazutsumi (??), or flat folded bundle. Eventually, the furoshiki’s usage extended to serve as a means for merchants to transport their wares or to protect and decorate a gift.

Last weekend I was in a craft store and there was a display of gorgeous wrapping papers. I love a fancily wrapped gift. However, as we all know, it creates an absurd amount of waste for just a moment or two of beauty.

I’m about to make one using some soft cotton and some flannel. Basically I am going to make a small blanket and also wrap a gift in it. Two gifts in one and nothing is wasted!

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I’ll admit it—I’m a sucker for vintage craft books. There’s something about flipping through the words of long-gone authors who took stitching very seriously (and often a little poetically) that makes me feel like I’ve joined a timeless club of thread-wielding women. That’s exactly how I felt diving into Chats on Needlework by Emily Leigh Lowes.

Originally published in 1906, this book is part history lesson, part opinion piece, and part how-to guide—with plenty of Victorian flair. And while some parts definitely show their age (in both language and perspective), it’s a fascinating and surprisingly enjoyable read if you’re into embroidery, textiles, or the roots of decorative arts.

Lowes doesn’t just “chat” about needlework—she lectures in a charming, tea-time sort of way. You get insight into historical stitching traditions from various cultures, plus commentary on the evolution of embroidery, tapestry, lace, and even ecclesiastical needlework. It reads like a stitched-together tour of museums and manor houses, narrated by someone who’s passionate, particular, and a bit sassy at times.

If you’ve ever wondered how medieval embroidery compares to Renaissance techniques—or what 19th-century women thought about machine-made lace—this book is your jam.

What stood out to me was how much Chats on Needlework made me think about the meaning behind the stitches. Lowes reflects on craftsmanship, aesthetics, and the cultural importance of handwork with a kind of reverence that honestly made me put down my current WIP and just appreciate it for a moment.

It’s not a how-to book, so don’t expect stitch diagrams or patterns. But it will deepen your love of needlework, especially if you’re the type who likes to pair your stitching with a strong cup of tea and a deeper sense of purpose.

Fair warning: Some references feel dated (as expected from a book written over a century ago), and the writing style is formal, with long-winded passages that take their time. But if you love reading about the why behind the craft, and if historical context inspires your creativity, you’ll enjoy this as much as I did.

I especially loved how she emphasized that needlework should be both beautiful and useful—something I’ve been trying to keep in mind as I mend old clothes or embroider reusable linens.

Chats on Needlework isn’t a flashy how-to or a Pinterest-ready pattern book. It’s more like sitting down for a fireside chat with your great-great-grandmother—one who had strong opinions on silk floss and medieval tapestries.

If you love textile history, appreciate slow crafting, and want to understand how embroidery was viewed before it became a hobby, this book is a little gem. It’s also great for anyone researching historical needlework for reenactments, costume work, or just creative inspiration.

Would I recommend it?
Absolutely—for the thoughtful, curious stitcher who wants more than just pretty stitches. It’s not for everyone, but for the right reader, it’s pure gold (or at least goldwork).

4.5 out of 5 samplers.
(Minus half a point for the occasional archaic ramble—but honestly, that’s part of the charm.)

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Have you read?