The interior of a sento Japanese bathhouse, photo by Soyoung Han on Unsplash
A ritual bathed in years
Today, bath time often serves as a sanctuary from others — a private ritual of blissful solitude behind closed doors. It almost seems odd that the cleansing ritual actually has a long history of not just relaxation but also socialisation. Think of the rowdy Roman baths and the popular 18th-century healing spa towns.
In Japan, bathing takes many forms — in the private home tub, at local public bathhouses and, of course, at the nation’s famous onsen (hot spring) resorts. It’s still all about ultimate relaxation, mindfulness and leisure. Just with different history and differing customs.
Associated with Buddhist purification rituals, public baths were introduced as places to cleanse both body and spirit. They first appeared during the 6th century at Japanese temples, primarily for priest use, and by the Heian Period (794-1185) the first public bathhouses were established in the then-capital of Japan, Kyoto.
These bathhouses, however, were to promote Buddhism, hygiene and spiritual healing rather than for leisure. It wasn’t until the Kamakura Period (1185-1333) that yusen — commercial, fee-paying — public baths appeared and the idea of a restorative long soak became more accessible to the general public.
An illustration by the Edo Period artist Kiyonaga showing women preparing to bath at a bathhouse. Public Domain
By the Edo Period (1603-1868), when Tokyo (then Edo) flourished as the new capital, sento (public bath) culture boomed. During this time, well over 500 bathhouses were built in Tokyo alone. In the Kanto region, bathers mostly enjoyed a large communal bath. In the Kansai region, they preferred steam baths. Both styles, though, were often mixed sex establishments. Yes, men and women were happy to innocently bathe together. Until, unsurprisingly, it became less innocent — especially with the introduction of yuna, women who were hired to scrub the backs of patrons but often did a little more than just wield a washcloth.
The Tokugawa shogunate finally enforced segregation, but not before Commodore Perry, on a mission to end Japan’s policy of isolation, visited a mixed-bathing sento — something he had depicted in a lithograph that astonished the west.
None of this suppressed the popularity of the public bathhouse. In a nation where home washrooms were rare, sentos became more welcoming in design. High ceilings made them feel more open, murals decorated walls and steaming, communal baths kept them sociable. There were 1000s across Japan during the Meiji Era (1868-1912), even as homes began to westernise with private baths. Despite the devastation of WWII followed by more modern bathrooms in new houses, sentos remained popular as community hubs where neighbours would meet, chat and unwind.
Now, compared to the sento peak, there are just a handful of traditional bathhouses remaining — around 600 to 700. But those still running are often quintessential examples of Showa Era (1926-1989) architecture and wonderfully retro interior design. If you’re not shy, they’re absolutely worth visiting, with the high chance of a curious local approaching you for a chat.
NiMi Projects' Hinoki (Japanese cypress) aromatherapy balls. ©NiMi Projects
For something more traditional, Japan’s onsen (hot spas) remained popular throughout. Virtually the same experience as a public bathhouse, except with running, naturally hot and mineral-rich spring water, onsen bathing was viewed as a therapeutic past time. Visiting onsens developed into a vacation activity within picturesque locales, rather than a regular hygiene ritual.
Home-bathing, meanwhile, followed the same customs as public bathing. There’s no bubble bath or soapy suds. No sliding beneath the water to rinse off shampoo. It was, and still is, a routine of shower, wash, scrub and thoroughly rinse before slipping into a deep tub of clean, hot water to soak away the stress of the day.
Traditionally made of hinoki, a symbolically sacred wood, the bath would be aromatic with the fresh lemony-grass smell of Japanese cypress. It is a truly a blissful experience.
Not everyone has a shower space next to a hinoki bath, but there are ways to enhance the bathing experience the Japanese way. Aromatic wooden buckets to pour water over the shoulders, oils or incense to bring the scent of woodland to the space and Hinoki aromatherapy bath balls to fragrance the water.
See our Aromatherapy Collection for ideas on how to bring the atmosphere of Japanese bathing into your own private haven.
A traditional-style bathroom at the Numazu Club resort in Japan, featuring a bath made with hinoki (Japanese Cypress) wood. Photo ©Mio Yamada
A dip into the past - Tokyo's famed sento
It’s worth seeking out a sento during a visit to Japan, even if you feel you don’t need a bath. It’s a unique cultural experience and not expensive at all. An average a dip can cost between 400 to 600 yen. Washcloths and towels can be rented and they all have soaps, shampoos and conditioners. All you need to do is leave any inhibitions behind, strip and enjoy.
Here’s a few of our favourite sento — two in central Tokyo and two that will take you to the suburbs for a local experience.
Once a Taisho Era (1912-26) restaurant in Tokyo, Takenoyu is a sento with naturally hot spring water sourced from below the bathhouse. Its water is mineral-rich with humic acid, making it murky and exceptionally dark. It may seem counterintuitive to step into black liquid, but on the skin it feels silky soft and gentle, making it a favourite among local residents and workers.
Decor is sparse but retro, with a couple of unusual tile murals inside the bathing areas: one of a map of Japan’s prefectures and another a depiction of a the historical training vessel the Nippon Maru.
Koganeyu is the perfect union of a traditional sento with contemporary Japanese design. Schemata Architects re-worked this century-old bathhouse into a community space that harks back to the bathing boom days in a very stylish manner. The entrance, a space for post-soak lounging, has been converted into a craft beer taproom that doubles as a DJ booth. Old-school elements, including original lockers, are now accents to minimalist decor and modern fittings, and the bathing area is laid with tiny beige tiles akin to Showa Era bathhouses.
Like bustling sento in their time, the male and female baths are separated by a high, open top wall. Don’t worry, you can’t see across. A mural featuring Edo Period bathers and Mount Fuji by illustrator Yoriko Hoshi joins the two sections, stretching across them like a painted scroll. Other highlights include Finnish sauna rooms, cold plunge bath, outdoor bathing, second-floor accommodation and cafe.
It’s both an architectural and traditional delight to visit.
Visit Schemata Architects' Koganeyu page for a visual tour.
Kamata Onsen sento bath's Showa Era interior design. ©Mio Yamada
Kamata Onsen, Kamata, Ota, Tokyo
Established in 1937, very little has changed about Kamata Onsen since the Showa Era (1926-89). A vibrantly red and pink 1970s floral carpet welcomes guests into the reception, complete with retro chairs and a gift shop offering Japanese towels, T-shirts and retro-style goods. There’s even a hooded hairdryer that is almost more entertaining to use than useful.
As a hot, spring water bathhouse, Kamata Onsen’s regulars rave about its “black water” being among the darkest of the city. They’ll tell you its high-mineral content offers all manner of health benefits. The water is so dark that, once submerged, you won’t be able to see your own body.
Kamata Onsen also features a “denki buro” bath that runs low-level electric currents between plates installed below the water. Terrifying as that sounds, it’s an unusual experience that stimulates the skin to leave it lightly tingling, and it’s believed to relieve problems like arthritis. Tiny tip if taking a dip in it, though — don’t touch the sides of the bath at the same time. It feels very weird, close to shocking.
It’s small and as originally retro as you can get. Get their original lion logo T-shirt — we’ve seen Japanese TV celebrities wearing them!
The furthest out from central Tokyo is Komaeyu, another design project of Schemata Architects. This time, Schemata Architects took inspiration from a derelict bathhouse in Kyoto to renovate a concrete-housed establishment in the Tokyo suburb of Komae.
Inside, Mount Fuji is delineated on the reception wall using a pattern of seemingly missing tiles. This re-imagined beauty of a dilapidated sento’s crumbling walls is both nostalgic and remarkably contemporary in aesthetic. The turquoise tiles were custom-made in Tajimi and the missing tile method was also used to create typography on bathing area walls.
Like the Koganeyu bathhouse, male and female bathers are kept apart by a open top wall, there is a sauna and visitors can enjoy drinks at a tap room by the reception. Komaeyu is now a community hub, where you’re likely to meet locals of all ages enjoying the baths as well as a local market often held in an adjacent parking lot.
Visit Schemata Architects' Komaeyu page for a visual tour.