Hoshino: Yes, when I traveled abroad during the New Year. I had fun choosing clothes that would suit the local atmosphere, feeling a sense of being away from my daily life.

Traveling is a special time, and you take more photos than usual. So, beyond just comfort, I also wanted to choose outfits that would make me think, "I want to remember myself on this day" when I look back later. I think I chose them with the hope that when I look back at the photos with my daughter and husband, my memories from that time would be clearly preserved.

—It's striking that you care about how your daughter sees you as a mother.

Hoshino: My mother was someone who really valued proper attire for different occasions (TPO). When I was a child, it sometimes felt a bit bothersome, but looking back now, that sensibility has definitely remained within me.

I don't think it's necessary to be overly conscious of how others see you, but there's also the idea of dressing in a way that allows you to feel confident wherever you are, and to be comfortable.

While there are days when I dress casually in sweats, when I meet people, it's like showing them, "I have this side too," as a possibility. Clothing can be something you play with, and it can also be a way to express yourself. Perhaps I'm unconsciously demonstrating that to my daughter.

—How does your daughter react when she sees you like that, Ms. Hoshino?

Hoshino: She might say, "What happened today?" or "You look different." If I'm wearing accessories, she sometimes asks, "You had that? Can I borrow it next time?" (laughs). It makes me happy to feel that she sees me not just as a mother, but as a woman too.

The changing relationship with clothing as one ages

—Have there been any changes in your feelings about clothing as you've gotten older or as your children have grown?

Hoshino: Honestly, I've always wanted to resist the idea of "how things should be." I believe that just because you're older, you can still show your legs if you want to, and even as a mother and a woman, it's okay to dress a certain way sometimes. On the other hand, there's a part of me that wants to tell my daughter, "This kind of attire is generally appropriate for this occasion." I feel like I'm constantly oscillating between these two perspectives.

When I'm by myself, I dress as I please. However, when I'm in public with my daughter, I naturally become conscious of my "motherly appearance." As someone in a position to teach, if I contradict what I say, I feel I wouldn't be a good role model. So, I might be consciously trying to set an example as a mother, like "for this kind of occasion, this kind of outfit is also an option."

But now, I've come to think that while that's okay, it's also not bad to just go with the flow. Instead of searching for the "right answer," I try to trust what I've chosen in the moment. It's much easier now.

Time with my daughter became an opportunity to re-examine "normal."

—What led to this flexible way of thinking?

Hoshino: I think the time I spend with my daughter is a big factor. What I was resisting was the "normal" and "ordinary" that I had created in my own mind. I felt like I had been constantly swaying between having to be a certain way and not wanting to be that way.

My daughter has a physical disability, and her growth pattern is different from what is considered typical. As I observed her day after day, I started to wonder, "What is normal?" and "Whose standard is 'ordinary'?"

I realized that even if I let go of what I used to consider "normal," nothing was really wrong. When I discovered that, I felt a sense of the unconscious boundaries I had drawn suddenly loosening. So now, wherever I am, I feel like I can be a little more free.

—Does that change manifest in your attire as well?

Hoshino: I think it's connected. My daughter uses a wheelchair, so there are certain clothes that are difficult for her to wear, like hoods getting caught or short lengths making movement difficult. Because I experience those limitations firsthand, it made me think differently. I started to ask myself, "What limitations am I imposing on myself right now?"

There was a time when, because I had a job that involved being in public, I would choose my clothes based on "how I would be perceived." I even chose outfits based on the saying, "The clothes you want to wear and the clothes that suit you are different."

But now, I prioritize the comfort when I wear something, how I feel when I see myself in the mirror, and how my daughter perceives me. I value that close, comfortable feeling within a one-meter radius. More than how others see me, it's about whether I can be natural myself. That's my current standard for clothing.

Wearing art means contemplating the people behind it.

On this day, Ms. Hoshino chose a scarf featuring the work of artist Ryo Nakao, who belongs to Yamanami Kobo in Shiga Prefecture. His style is characterized by numerical motifs, with numbers up to "14" appearing in many of his works. The inspiration for this came from the fact that the CDs he listened to while driving with his grandmother when he was young had up to 14 tracks.

Silk Scarf "Title Unknown"
Scarf Attachment One-Piece Dress

—What were your thoughts on wearing the scarf attachment dress?

Hoshino: It felt like art, which I usually perceive as something to be appreciated from a distance, suddenly became incredibly close. The existence that I thought was far away was transforming and existing on my skin. That sensation felt very fresh.

The scarf paired with the black dress can dramatically change its impression depending on how it's wrapped or how the colors are displayed. You can gather it around your face, or tie it around your waist. Even though it's just one item, I felt like there were so many ways to enjoy it.

—How did you feel about wearing the art scarf?

Hoshino: What I strongly felt was that "behind things, there are people." Art is something that creators present to the world with the resolve that "this is our work." I thought it was a great luxury to be able to wear it in daily life and enjoy it as part of our lives.

Hearing Mr. Nakao's story deepened that feeling even further. Even if it's the memory of someone no longer with us, it is certainly connected to the present through their work. I felt that art has the power to connect people across time and emotions.

Thinking about future occasions with her daughter

—What are you looking forward to about the upcoming occasions you'll share with your daughter?

Hoshino: The most recent major occasion was her entrance ceremony, but at that point, we weren't really at the stage where we could "discuss it together." However, when I imagine future graduation and entrance ceremonies, where we can think about things together, it excites me. I hope that clothing can spark another conversation, and we can learn about each other's feelings at different times. That would be wonderful, and I'm really looking forward to the future.

More than finding the right answer, I value the act of "deciding."

—Does the change in how you choose your clothes overlap with your way of life?

Hoshino: Yes, it does. In the first place, I don't think there's such an easy thing as a "right answer." For example, with this book we're making, there wasn't a "right answer" path from the beginning. Instead, we discussed it each time and decided, "Let's make this the completion for now." I feel that the act of "deciding" itself was very important. It's the same with clothing; even if you're hesitant, it's important to decide, "This is it for today," and go out. Rather than constantly searching for the right answer, it's about trying to choose for yourself. If someone says something and you think, "Maybe they're right," then you can change it then. I feel it's much healthier to make a choice and stand by it, rather than hiding without deciding anything.

For me, dressing up is a small declaration of intent, showing myself, "This is who I am right now."

 "Finally, I'll laugh with you ~Fuka and the ordinary days and extraordinary happiness we weave together~" (by Mari Hoshino / Shogakukan). Her eldest daughter, Fuka, lives in an electric wheelchair, suffering from a nationally designated intractable disease called "congenital myopathy." This essay, written from the perspective of her mother Mari, tells slightly difficult but somewhat enjoyable anecdotes about living with an intractable disease.

"Knowing" changes the outline of the world.

—Your values and daily choices are also reflected in your book, "Finally, I'll Laugh with You." What message do you hope to convey through this book?

Hoshino: The most important thing I wanted to convey was the importance of "knowing." For about 40 years before I met my daughter, I had never deeply considered disability, welfare, or intractable diseases. Even though we shared the same society, I somehow perceived them as belonging to a different world.

However, knowing changed my perception of the world dramatically, and as a result, I found it easier to live. That's why I hope that putting this experience into words can be an opportunity for someone else to realize something.

I believe that an inclusive society isn't something that happens all at once with a major event, but rather something built on a積み重ね (accumulation) of small understandings in daily life. More than wanting to convey a special message, I want people to see our family's very ordinary ten years as they are. Whether people feel it's "different" or "the same," both are important first steps, I believe.

First and foremost, I hope people can feel a little closer to it. I'd be happy if this book could serve as that entry point.