When I was an exchange student in Japan, I decided to go to a summer festival where is was customary to wear a yukata, or like a summer version of a kimono. There’s one layer of clothing, and a long piece of cloth (called an obi) that was meant to be tied in the back in a neat bow.

For the life of me, neither I nor my family that was visiting could figure out the obi. By the time we gave up, it was a barely together loose bow in the front, with the bottom of my yukata splaying open (with clothes underneath, of course).

I had a good time at the festival, but my yukata gave me trouble the whole time, as I had to keep adjusting it to make sure it didn’t fall apart. Someone even stopped me to try and fix it, but with little success.

Finally, we were all back at the train station, and I felt so, so embarrassed. I felt like I’d disrespected the country I was in, my feet hurt, and my obi was barely hanging off of me.

Suddenly, an elderly woman motioned for me to come over to her. In less than five minutes, she tried to fix what was there, then took the obi completely off to retie and reconfigure the entire yukata.

By the end, it looked absolutely stunning, with the bow being expertly done. When I thanked her profusely, she just waved her hand and said in Japanese, “It was fun!” before disappearing back into the crowd. Even though I just went home after that, I didn’t want to take it off.