Hello, this is Flower Jem.
It has been about a month and a half since I last posted an article.
In the past several weeks, I have been pouring almost all of my time into custom orders—mainly station necklaces and station bracelets. Those custom orders are finally entering their final stages, and now I have a little room to breathe.
So I thought it might be a good moment to write something again, since I haven’t posted in a while.
I haven’t yet decided what exactly I am going to write here.
Today is Saturday, November 22nd, 2025.
For my weekday job, I have both Saturday and Sunday off this week.
Ideally, I would like to say, “Great, then I can devote the whole weekend to pearls!”
But my motorcycle was due for an oil change, so this morning I rode to Kyoto.
My goal was to leave at 9 a.m., but I ended up leaving at 10.
Doing laundry took a little longer than expected.
I arrived in Kyoto around 11:30, and the oil change was finished in about fifteen minutes.
Normally I would head straight back to Kobe, but today I decided to visit the Philosopher’s Path, one of Kyoto’s famous sightseeing spots. One of my customers visited Japan last month and told me that she had walked the Philosopher’s Path.
She found a woodblock print she wanted to buy at a shop there, but the shop did not accept credit cards.
In the end, she had to give up on purchasing it.
Yes—this is the reason why I visited the Philosopher’s Path today.
However, the shop was closed.
And more fundamentally, my customer never actually needed me to purchase anything on her behalf.
From what I remembered of our conversation last month, I thought she had agreed when I said,
“If I go to Kyoto, I can pick up the print you wanted,”
and she replied, “Thank you, I appreciate your kind offer.”
I assumed that meant she wanted me to buy it for her.
But in reality, it was something more like this:
“Would you like some coffee?”
“Thank you for your kindness, but I’m fine.”
That was the nuance.
I visit Kyoto every two to three months for motorcycle maintenance.
But I always return to Kobe immediately after taking care of my errands.
I’ve often felt it was a waste, coming all the way to Kyoto and going straight home.
So this time, having a “purpose”—to buy something at a certain shop along the Philosopher’s Path—gave me a good excuse to enjoy Kyoto a little.
Even though my misunderstanding meant there was no need to purchase anything,
I still enjoyed visiting the Philosopher’s Path for the first time in about six years.
On both sides of the small stream—more like an irrigation canal—there are walking paths lined with beautiful autumn-colored trees.
It is a wonderful place for a relaxing stroll.
I noticed many Western tourists. I hardly saw any Chinese tourists, who used to make up the majority.
I have studied a little Chinese, so I am always interested when I hear tourists speaking it. The pronunciation is difficult, but sometimes it sounds like a beautiful melody to me.
After walking the Philosopher’s Path, I walked along a nearby street filled with shops and ate a matcha ice cream on the way.
Eighty percent of the people walking along that street were international visitors.
On my way back, I decided to buy yatsuhashi, a famous Kyoto sweet.
I went to university in Kyoto, so yatsuhashi had once been a completely over-familiar souvenir for me.
But after more than twenty years since graduating, I suddenly felt ready to buy it again.
I entered a traditional yatsuhashi shop run by the cutest elderly woman—she must have been well over eighty.
“I’m afraid the fresh yatsuhashi is sold out today,” she said. “Today it sold out unusually early. Would you like the baked one instead?”
So I bought the baked version.
Then she said, “We’re closing for the day. If you’re not in a hurry, please have some warm tea.”
We chatted for a while as I drank the tea.
“You sold out by two o’clock? That’s amazing.”
“Well, I only make as much as one person can manage.”
“Even so, selling everything is impressive.”
“Yes, I’m very grateful. Today especially—it’s the start of a three-day weekend, so it sold out early.”
“Is it usually sold out?”
“Sometimes a few pieces remain, but only a few days a month.”
“That’s incredible.”
“Thank you. And where are you from?”
“Kobe.”
“Kobe is close. A day trip?”
“Yes.”
“Was the train crowded?”
“I came by motorcycle.”
“By motorcycle!? My goodness! You must be tired!”
“I come to Kyoto every few months, so it’s fine.”
“Oh my… well, please be careful going home.”
Wrapped in her warmth and kindness, I left the shop in a very good mood.
I left Kyoto at around 2:30, and returned to Kobe via the highway around 4 p.m.
Recently the days have been cold, but today was sunny and warm.
Even so, riding a motorcycle on the highway was a little chilly.
When I got home, I immediately began working on the six-millimeter natural-blue necklace.
These pearls were grown at the Akoya pearl farm owned by the company I previously worked for.
By looking at the sizes of these pearls, I was able to tell which of the several farms they were grown at.
I know the manager of that farm well.
He is someone who talks for a very long time.
Since I also keep listening without stopping him, our phone calls always exceeded two hours.
That is why recently I haven’t contacted him—because I simply do not have that kind of time.
This six-millimeter natural-blue baroque necklace was something I had just purchased, and I had not yet decided how to sell it.
While exchanging messages with a certain customer, I showed her a picture of the necklace I had just purchased.
Then she said she wanted it.
This time, I purchased three strands of natural-blue Akoya baroque pearls.
Those three were chosen from about one hundred strands.
My wholesale client had purchased around one hundred strands of six-millimeter natural-blue baroque pearls from the company I used to work for, and I was allowed to see them all.
I planned to buy only a few strands from that client, so I examined all one hundred carefully.
I found the best three in my personal opinion, and purchased those three.
S-san told me that he had bought all one hundred strands at the same price.
But when I looked at the tags attached to each necklace, I could see that the hundred strands consisted of dozens of different lots.
And each tag had a coded notation.
That code represents the assessed value of each strand, and since I had worked at that pearl company for about ten years, decoding it was very easy for me.
For moral reasons, I did not tell S-san, but I checked the assessed value of every lot.
It turned out that the three strands I chose had the highest assessed values.
This may be obvious to pearl dealers, but it still made me happy.
For your information, the lowest assessed value among the hundred strands was thirty-three percent lower than the price S-san had paid.
And the three strands I chose were forty-six percent higher in assessed value than the price he had paid.
I should add that the price he paid was basically the average of the hundred strands.
The next day, I went to another pearl dealer and looked at several pearl necklaces.
I was looking at a lot of about eight strands of eight-millimeter necklaces.
Casually, I pointed to the one I felt was the most beautiful and asked, “How much is this one?”
The dealer said, “That one is ●● dollars. The one you picked is the most expensive.”
I said, “My eye for pearls hasn’t dulled yet. I’m glad.”
He laughed and said, “Of course it hasn’t. Don’t get too pleased with yourself.”
Just to let you know—my ability to evaluate Flower Jem pearls is still alive and well.
Recently, something interesting has been happening.
Sometimes I look at other pearl shops on Instagram.
And I often see pearls that, in my view, clearly have kabure (which means that when an Akoya oyster is unhealthy or dies during cultivation, a white layer is secreted and covers the pearl’s surface), but they are introduced as “pearls with beautiful luster.”
If you remove unnecessary professional knowledge and preconceived notions, even such pearls with kabure might be seen as beautiful.
However, within the pearl industry, promoting pearls with kabure as “beautiful” is discouraged because it lowers the overall value of pearls.
A long time ago, the founder of Mikimoto, the famous Japanese pearl company, also conducted campaigns to raise the quality of pearls distributed in the market by discarding low-quality pearls.
There were even occasions when he publicly burned large amounts of low-quality pearls as a performance.
From that perspective, seeing kabure pearls marketed as “beautiful pearls” leaves me with complex feelings.
If someone understands what kabure is, then it is fine.
But people who are not very familiar with pearls may misunderstand and think, “So this is what a beautiful pearl looks like.”
The Japan Pearl Promotion Society has defined six elements that make up the beauty of a pearl:
Shape, color, size, nacre thickness, luster, and the degree of wounds.
Among these, shape, color, and size are personal preferences.
Color, shape, and size do not determine the quality of a pearl.
The elements that affect quality are luster, nacre thickness, and the degree of wounds.
I am sure some people like pearls with more wounds. That is a matter of personal preference. But in that case, wounds become an element where personal taste influences perceived quality.
I tried to explain these six elements by comparing them to us humans, but of course, I realized that defining the “quality” of human beings is impossible.
It would be terrifying to go too deep into that idea.
For you, an Akoya pearl enthusiast, I hope you will take time—slowly and thoroughly—to understand these six elements that define pearl beauty.
If you understand how each of these six elements influences taste, quality, and price—or does not influence them—it becomes extremely helpful when selecting pearls.
Specifically, it allows you to find the best pearls within your budget.
For example, let’s say you want to buy pearls within a certain budget.
First, you need to bring to light what you find most attractive in pearls.
Among color, shape, size, luster, the degree of wounds, and nacre thickness—identify which is most important to you.
For me, it is luster.
Second most important is nacre thickness.
Conversely, among the six elements that compose pearl beauty, identify the ones with the lowest priority.
For me, those are shape and wounds.
The price of pearls becomes higher the rounder they are, and lower the more baroque they are.
Let me summarize this.
If we imagine a budget of 600 dollars and evenly distribute 100 dollars to each of the six elements—shape, color, size, luster, nacre thickness, and wounds—what would happen?
You may end up with a pearl that is round, with moderately thick nacre, reasonably good luster, few wounds, and with color and size chosen according to your preference.
But that pearl may be very average, with little distinctive character.
“It’s not that he’s a bad guy—he’s kind, polite, and good at conversation… but something feels missing.”
The reason is that your personal preferences and values are not reflected in the allocation of your budget.
For me, I wouldn’t give only 100 dollars each to nacre thickness and luster.
I would assign 150 dollars each to those two, and only 50 dollars each to shape and wounds, which are less important to me.
Then the pearl might have “a few wounds and a baroque shape… but the luster is strong and the nacre is thick—perfect!”
I repeat—this applies when you are choosing pearls within your own limited budget.
If someone is wealthy enough to buy an entire restaurant just because the food tastes good, they can always buy the world’s finest pearls.
Such people don’t need to study these six elements.
But most of us have budgets.
Within a limited budget, it is important to optimize how we allocate our resources to these six elements in a way that aligns with our values.
If everything in this world were infinite, human and material value might disappear.
If life were infinite, perhaps pearls wouldn’t interest us.
If money were infinite, it would lose its meaning.
Life is finite.
In one hundred twenty years, almost everyone alive today will have become gods or Buddhas.
Within our finite lives, and within our finite budgets, choosing the best pearls means first bringing our own values into focus, and then choosing pearls that align with those values.
Whether it is luster, size, or the degree of wounds—you must reflect on each one.
I am someone who acts on emotion, but in the past, while looking at pearls, I asked myself:
“Why do I love this kind of pearl?”
The process is interesting.
You project yourself onto the pearl, and then you look at that projection and re-examine your own values.
It feels like Zen in Buddhism.
It doesn’t have to be pearls—it could be dogs or vases.
But for me, this was a very meaningful time, allowing me to reconfirm my personal values and way of thinking about pearls.
Looking at it differently, it is similar to the reasons a woman may choose her husband.
“He may not be handsome, but he has stable income, and that’s why I liked him.”
“He has no job or income, and he’s unreliable, but he’s incredibly handsome. That’s why I love him. Don’t worry—I’m the one supporting him!”
“He earns an average income, does housework, and treats me kindly… I am generally satisfied.
But our tastes and values differ, and sometimes something feels missing.
My friends recommended him and things flowed that way.
Oh, but he is definitely a good person.”
At Flower Jem, I deal with Akoya pearls, so this discussion is about selecting pearls.
But the object could be anything—pearls, dogs, vases—anything that someone genuinely cares about.
To find something that truly matches your values—something you truly love—within your budget, you must first understand yourself.
When you clarify your preferences and values, the pearl you choose based on them becomes something that stays with you more deeply.
My thoughts started with something I saw on Instagram, and before I knew it, the story had become quite long.
Taking all of this into account, even if a pearl has kabure, as long as both the shop and the customer understand and agree, there is absolutely no problem.
If I act like a specialist and say, “That is a defective pearl,” then Flower Jem would become a very boring shop.
There is a Japanese historical novelist I admire named Shiba Ryotaro.
He has already passed away, but his words remain.
He left behind many sayings, and one of them is this:
“A specialist is an expert only up until that point in time.
When it comes to the future, specialists and amateurs stand on the same ground.”
He also wrote that if you cling too tightly to the things you studied in the past or the specialized knowledge you once handled, you turn yourself into a burden—an old obstruction.
Throughout history, amateurs have often created ideas and methods more innovative or effective than those of experts.
For someone like me—a perfectly ordinary person without any particularly exceptional skills—his words give me great courage.
And although I may know slightly more about Akoya pearls than the average person, this quote also serves as a reminder not to bind myself to the “expert version of my past self.”
In reality, during my conversations with customers, I often encounter new ways of viewing pearls or new design ideas—things I never would have come up with myself.
In that sense, my customers are like my pearl teachers.
“It’s like they’re telling me, ‘Look, there is also this way of seeing pearls, this way of showing them.’”
Sharing our values, knowledge, and preferences, and creating one pearl piece together—
That is simply fun.
When we were children, did you ever make a small mountain in the sandbox with a friend?
Did you ever dig tunnels from both sides of the mountain?
That moment when your hands touched in the middle—the surprise and excitement of it—
It is something I have never forgotten.
Creating a pearl piece together with a customer feels very similar.
It is simply enjoyable.
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