New to me

"Can you repeat that?" I said to a Japanese friend of mine. "I don't think I understood you."
"The money," my friend said again. "The money must be fresh."

Fresh money? Fresh money? Is there actually sour money in Japan?

In my attempt to avoid making any mistakes (or at least obvious mistakes) at an upcoming Japanese wedding ceremony, I asked my friend to teach me about Japanese wedding customs.

"As a guest, please wear a formal dress," she said. "And, your husband needs to wear a suit."
Got it. Easy.

"You need to say omedetougozaimasu (congratulations) to the wedding couple and their families," my friend suggested.
Got it. I can do that. Easy.

"You do not bring a present."
Got it. OK. That's actually good news. I wasn't looking forward to running around Shibuya searching for waffle makers, blenders and salt and pepper shakers.

"Here, wedding gifts are money."
OK. Back home, I would write a check, but in Japan, you present gift cash. OK. Sounds easy enough.

"Please enclose the cash into a special festive wedding envelope."
Special wedding envelope? Got it.

"And," my friend said very seriously, "this is very important. The money must be fresh."

Fresh money? Fresh money?

"Can you repeat that?" I said. "I don't think I understood you."
"Fresh," she said. "New cash. No wrinkles. No creases. No folded corners."

It was at that point that we both noticed the clothes I was wearing--a wrinkled shirt, a creased skirt.

"Well, at least no folded corners..." I said as I tried to straighten my attire.
"I think," my friend suggested. "To be safe, I think you should iron the money."

Iron money? I can't iron money. First, I would be too nervous. Second, what happens if I burn it? If it is bad luck to present wrinkled money, it must be terrible to present charred, smoking, holey yen.

I got it.

"Here you go," I said to my dry cleaner the other morning. "Five business shirts. One suit jacket. One pair of trousers. And, some wedding gift money. Little starch. No wrinkles. See you Wednesday."