Japanese Jeans

I read Mr. Marx's book published last year, "AMETORA: How Japan Saved American Style." It is remarkably well-researched, and I think it is a wonderful scholarly work.

Thank you. When I was writing it, the materials in your book, "History: Japanese Jeans," were very helpful as a reference.

What inspired you to write this book?

Personally, I originally had no interest in clothes or fashion at all. But that is probably normal for an American man (laughs).

It started when I did a three-week homestay in Japan during high school, which made me want to study Japan. In the late 90s, the "Ura-Harajuku" movement became a boom among Japanese youth. They would wait in line for hours just to buy a T-shirt. I became very interested in why Japanese youth were so passionate about clothing. Previously, Mita-hyoron also featured a three-person casual talk about Ivy fashion (May 2014 issue). The English version of the book "TAKE IVY," created in 1965 by Toshiyuki Kurosu—a key figure in the Ivy boom—was released in the US in 2010 and became quite a topic of conversation.

I see.

It was very intriguing to me why Japanese people made a book about Ivy fashion in 1965, so I first thought about writing a book about Japanese Ivy. However, I heard from my publisher that Japanese jeans were also extremely popular overseas, so I decided to look into that as well. I thought the question of why Japanese people started making such high-quality jeans was very interesting.

The English version of "AMETORA" came out in 2015, and the Japanese version was released last September. A Chinese version was also just released recently.

That's amazing. What kind of people are reading it?

Because of the name "Ametora," people tend to think it's a book about Ivy, but the people reading it most overseas are probably denim enthusiasts. There are many Japanese denim enthusiasts in Europe in particular. For those people, there don't seem to be many books that tell the story of Japanese denim like this.

Today, Japanese jeans are viewed with the most respect in the world. They are considered the most authentic. Even though they were originally born in America. That's why brands that want to make authentic jeans in America absolutely use Japanese denim. It has become a mindset of "if it's not Japanese denim, it's not the real thing." In a sense, this is close to a miracle.

Thinking again about why Japanese jeans became the best in the world, after the war, the US occupation forces donated worn-out jeans to churches for charity, especially at the Atsugi base. Japanese people began to wear them out of admiration. But since it was charity, the quantity wasn't that large.

The origin was a shop called Marcel in Ameyoko, Ueno, where the founder, Kenichi Hiyama, thought, "These will sell," and started the business. From there, manufacturers in Okayama took it up, and they suddenly realized, "Wait, Japan has indigo dyeing (aizome)." Even within indigo dyeing, there are dozens of shades of "indigo." People of my grandmother's generation could name all of those colors. That's how much of an indigo dyeing culture Japan had. They decided they could use this for jeans and obsessed over the dyeing process, believing they were the best in the world when it came to indigo.

That's an interesting point. When you dye jeans with Japanese "Hon-Aizome" (natural indigo dyeing), the quality is actually a bit too high. In other words, the indigo penetrates to the core, so the color doesn't fade much (laughs).

In America, they use a technique called rope dyeing (bundling cotton yarns into a rope shape for dyeing), which is cheaper. Kaihara in Hiroshima was the first to introduce that in Japan.

In other words, Kaihara felt they had to imitate America, so despite Japan's long-standing indigo culture, they deliberately chose to use the American method where the color fades more easily.

Entering the 90s, brands also emerged that mixed the old indigo culture with American dyeing methods.

And there is one more thing: jeans have what is called "akajimi" or selvedge (photo). The edges of the fabric are distinguished by a red "colored thread," which serves as a fray-preventer.

Selvedge appears when weaving with old-fashioned machines called shuttle looms. Nowadays, such machines aren't used because they are inefficient. So in America and other developed countries, those old machines were discarded long ago. However, in Japan, factory managers and craftsmen kept the shuttle looms in barns because they thought it was a waste to throw them away.

The "501," which is synonymous with Levi's, originally had selvedge. But Americans didn't think "selvedge is cool" at all. It was just something that happened to appear out of necessity in the manufacturing process.

Even in Japan, 70s denim didn't have selvedge. As jeans became more widespread, enthusiasts felt that the texture of the 501 was somehow better and the way the color faded was good, and they also noticed the existence of the selvedge. So, in the 80s, they went out of their way to use small looms—probably canvas looms—to make denim with selvedge.

In other words, it didn't happen naturally; when they tried to imitate America, they tried to imitate the parts that Americans hadn't even noticed. It's a very artificial history.

That's fascinating.

Until Japanese brands like EVISU started selling in the US and UK in the 1990s, almost no one over there cared about selvedge. It was only because Japanese brands said "selvedge is good" or "this is like the 501" that Westerners finally realized "selvedge denim is cool."

Now, even overseas, denim enthusiasts will only buy things with selvedge. That is entirely a case of Japanese people reviving an American culture.

Levi's made selvedge jeans until 1984, but not after 1985. The denim fabric for Levi's had been made at the White Oak plant of Cone Mills in North Carolina, and that factory had old shuttle looms, but they weren't using them. However, they noticed that factories in Okayama, Japan, were using them, so they decided to imitate that, and Cone Mills started making selvedge denim again.

However, that factory closed last year, and now there isn't a single factory in America that can make selvedge denim. But they remain in Japan. So, I think this has truly become a uniquely Japanese product.

Japanese people have a spirit of valuing old things and not throwing them away. In other words, it's not just about efficiency and low cost; a culture remained in the jeans industry where things would sell if the texture and color were good, even if they were expensive. That continues even today.

That's true. I'm in my 50s, and our generation is already tired of buying things. We've bought so much that we're like, "I'm good now" (laughs). I think many people in the generation that has finished raising children have a mindset of wanting to live more carefully.

A few years ago, there was a large alumni reunion for the 25th anniversary of graduating from Keio, and the conversation there was that everyone used to buy a lot, but now we feel that wasn't quite right. I think there's a trend toward living a more grounded life.

Jeans get cooler the more you wear them. Isn't this a characteristic that only jeans possess among all clothing?

Japanese denim is a bit expensive overseas and is seen as a luxury item in a sense. In other words, like an Hermès or Vuitton bag, it's expensive but something you can use for a lifetime. So, with stiff and thick denim, it's hard to wear at first, but I think there's a story embedded in it like, "you can really wear these for your whole life."

Regarding denim materials, various technologies are advancing now, such as stretch processing to make them easier to wear.

However, the reason Japanese denim is so highly valued overseas is actually because it doesn't have stretch or anything like that. It's because it's exactly like 50s denim—thick, stiff, and with good color fading. Jeans from Japanese companies like Kaihara or Nihon Menpu have no stretch and no synthetic fibers. That is what is considered good.

You know about fast food. Essentially, it's about eating cheaply and eating a lot, no matter what it is. On the other hand, the gourmet boom is also huge. It's the same with clothing; various fast fashion brands are dominating the fashion world, but I think that's a bit different from the original Japanese jeans culture.

Hamburgers are American fast food, but the first McDonald's in Japan was placed in Ginza. In other words, at the time, it was quite a high-class thing, close to a luxury item. Jeans are similar to that.

After that, the quality of materials also dropped in America.

I think that's because jeans were very common in America from the start and weren't anything special. In other words, they are cool, but they are anti-fashion. You wear jeans because you don't think about what to wear; you wear jeans because you don't think about status. That's why hippies wore them, and people like James Dean wore them as an anti-social image. Jeans were strictly functional, not fashion.

But in Japan, jeans were a special fashion that came from America. That's why they were cherished so much, and when the quality of American jeans gradually dropped, Japanese people must have wondered why the quality was falling for such a special fashion.

Ah, I see.

So, Japanese brands thought about making slightly higher-end jeans. However, in the 80s, Big John released expensive selvedge denim for the first time under the brand "Big John Rare," but it didn't sell at all. The same was true for the brand Studio D'Artisan.

In Japan, jeans were fashion from the start. But in America, they were an extension of workwear. That's likely the background.

From a designer's perspective, major apparel companies were developing jeans as something that could make you stylish very quickly. I was doing children's clothing for brands like Celine and Burberry in the 2000s, and advice would always come from the licensors to include "jeaning" (denim elements).

In other words, Japanese fashion can tend to become overly serious and stiff. I think they wanted a bit of playfulness, or something slightly anti-establishment—a bit of a "tickle."

So we tried to incorporate jeaning as fashion, but as time progressed through the 2000s and 2010s, I feel it became quite superficial in women's clothing, where it was like "as long as you wear denim, you'll be fine."

I felt that instead of just using denim as a quick means, there are more things that Japanese jeans fashion can communicate.

I've also been observing women's jeans for about 30 years. In the 70s, there were hippie-style flared jeans, and eventually, there were designer jeans like Calvin Klein. Slim-fitting ones that you could even wear into a hotel. Then women's jeans finally gained social acceptance, and after a while, colored jeans appeared.

In Japan, there is the term "ashinaga (long-leg) jeans." These are things that fit the body line perfectly and include stretch. They were successfully marketed by linking them with women's desire for beauty and wanting to look like they have a good figure. So, while it's a bit different from the obsession in men's fashion, I want to value the connection between jeans and the female desire to "look beautiful" and "look healthy."

For me, wearing the same size denim as I did in my 20s has become a theme. Denim is quite honest, so it's quite difficult (laughs). However, I have a desire to be an old lady who can go out wearing a white T-shirt and blue jeans. I want to keep my inches properly and not cheat with stretch (laughs).

As a current campaign in the jeans industry, we are trying to change one's body by wearing jeans. We are trying to create an image of keeping the stomach from sticking out or moving briskly through exercise.

I think it means the social role of jeans has changed. Especially for women, jeans that are far removed from stories like 501s or selvedge are popular.

On the other hand, there are still many jeans enthusiasts and people who want to continue the old culture. Of course, there are such people in America and Europe, but I was most surprised by Thailand and Indonesia. Indonesia is more humid and hot than Japan, right? But Indonesian men love extremely thick jeans, around 20 ounces. Even right under the equator, that culture is popular. In other words, they aren't wearing them because it's rational, and it's a bit different from wearing them because they are trendy. Jeans are still very strong as "clothing with a story," so to speak. In the past, you might have automatically put on jeans because you didn't want to think about anything when you woke up, but that's no longer the case.

What is the position of jeans in America today?

Of course, they are still an everyday presence, but on the other hand, they have also become something for fashion-conscious men.

Since about 10 years ago, various indie denim brands have emerged in America. The denim itself is probably mostly Japanese-made, but as brands, they are not for the masses at all. Rather, brands are emerging with a stance of not wanting to be for the masses.

Are those brands leading the way as fashion leaders?

I feel like that trend is starting to disappear now.

There are terms like "Cold War" and "Civil War," but America today is in a state of what you might call a "Cold Civil War." For example, the pro-Trump and anti-Trump factions are in such conflict that it feels like a civil war might actually break out. The elites in New York, San Francisco, and Los Angeles probably like jeans and like Japanese denim. But those people have absolutely no influence over the pro-Trump people in the middle of America. Conversely, it's like, "if those guys are wearing them, I'm definitely not wearing them."

There was a fashion style called normcore (normal + core = a style referring to "extremely normal clothing") like Apple's Steve Jobs, and I thought people in the IT industry probably liked denim quite a bit.

That's right. Among those people, I feel the number of people who understand that Japanese denim is good is gradually increasing.

Since around 2005 or 2006, people in America have also started talking about things like "how the denim fades" on the internet. Actually, that word doesn't exist in English, so the Japanese word "tateochi" (vertical fading) has become understood in English as is.

Vertical fading is the sensation that there are irregularities in the thickness of the warp threads, and when rubbed, the white becomes mottled, which is considered wonderful.

Originally, things with such irregularities had no value.

I think slub yarn (mura-ito) is also a topic that only comes up with Japanese jeans. In the 80s, Kurabo (Kurashiki Spinning) developed "slub yarn" that deliberately has irregularities. The way it's made is also high-tech, with the appearance of the irregularities being precisely programmed. If you go to a Japanese denim factory today, there are almost no humans; robots are mostly making it.

Many large, state-of-the-art high-tech machines are operating, and they are making yarn that looks like old denim from the 50s. This idea of using high-tech to create something old is, I think, a very Japanese way of thinking.

Behind that high-tech, there is tradition. It's the sense that non-uniform things—like the puffed weave of a kimono, mottled weaves, or ikat—also have meaning.

Broadly speaking, I think Western culture is one that prefers things to be uniform and perfectly flat. Even with Levi's, Americans used to wear brand-new ones or non-washed ones that had only been dipped in a little hot water. After the war, trade was liberalized and new denim fabric from America entered Japan, but it was so stiff you couldn't wear it. So, the folks in Okayama started washing them in washing machines. In the process, holes started appearing too.

The streak-like fading around the base of the legs is called 'hige' (whiskers), and it was the Japanese who started calling it that. People in Italy were doing it even earlier, but it was Okayama, Japan, that marketed it to America and turned it into a business.

Kurabo's slub yarn was initially sold to a French brand, not a Japanese one.

First, the French thought the 501 was great and made something like a knock-off of it. Seeing those French 501s, it became a topic in Japanese men's fashion magazines, saying things like "The French are wearing 501s." So, the 501 first gained attention in France and Japan, while Americans didn't think much of it. They thought it was just ordinary, but then in '84 there was another 501 campaign, and Americans realized again that the 501 was the most authentic pair of jeans, and that became the global trend.

Currently, about 2 to 2.3 billion pairs of jeans are produced and sold worldwide. This is probably number one for outerwear. Because of that, the scale of everything—cotton cultivation, textile manufacturing, dyeing, sewing, sales, and logistics—is massive. Therefore, the social impact is also enormous.

Farmers suffering from pesticide damage, lakes drying up due to massive water usage, dyes polluting rivers and lakes. Also, in a garment factory in Bangladesh, there was a collapse accident where hundreds of women working for low wages died. At that time, people in the West made a fuss, starting a movement saying, "The jeans we are wearing are made by women working in poor conditions in such factories; should we be happy wearing these?"

Exactly because of those problems, I think there is an aspect where Japanese denim is attracting attention.

There is a brand from Kojima, Okayama called "KAPITAL," and they use the story of making Japanese denim in a Kojima factory as a selling point. Japanese brands are trustworthy because you know where they are made. There is also a trend of wanting to buy and wear things made by artisans. It's the same as saying an Hermès bag is made by a craftsman in this factory.

Japanese brands are good at creating stories; even though Japanese denim factories are full of robots, they project an image of an elderly craftsman working diligently and painstakingly on an old loom (laughs).

Recently, in a fashion magazine targeting women in their 40s and older, there was a feature on "What intellectual women wear." Just as seen with organic food, everyone wants to buy things where the origin is known.

And for clothes, are people happy buying something for 3,900 yen that was made by someone working in unfair labor conditions? I think things are changing little by little because people want to engage in more ethical purchasing.

Also, being in the field of children's clothing design, there are times when we are forced to make cheap things, but in that magazine, there were words that stung: "Please don't create any more wasteful designs that encourage wasteful consumption." Designers must not make wasteful things anymore. I want to do work that is truly meaningful. Of course, it is a business, but as a designer's mindset, I want to take to heart the idea of "not making wasteful things."

Levi's released something called "noragi" (farm wear) in a 501 campaign. They reproduced the patchwork look that Japanese farmers used to wear using denim. This feels like a Japanese sensibility, or rather, it feels like we've entered that kind of era.

The word "boro" is also quite well understood in English now.

The word "ethical" literally translates to "rinriteki," but I think it encompasses various meanings like traceability, sustainability, and fair trade (trading at fair prices and conditions). I believe jeans are exactly what can realize this ethical ideal.

As for the latest technology regarding jeans, there is something called laser processing, where sewn jeans are blasted with a 1,000-degree laser beam. This can create a faded look. This method is environmentally friendly because it doesn't use water or chemicals.

Also, it is common for robots to rub the fabric to create a worn-out feel. And research into the full automation of sewing has also begun. In other words, you put in fabric and it comes out as a finished product.

After the war, American jeans manufacturers kept lowering costs, and the quality got worse and they became uncool. Japanese jeans brands value that quality very much. So, Japan is really the only place in the world where authentic jeans remain.

This isn't limited to jeans; for example, Neapolitan pizza from Italy probably tastes better in Japan (laughs). The image of Japanese culture might still be things like "Geisha," "Fujiyama," and "Sushi," but there is another part: the modern culture created by the West still remains in Japan. And actually, this now only remains in Japan.

With the technology I introduced earlier, for example, you can make jeans that reproduce the wrinkles of the jeans worn by Takuya Kimura.

In this way, we use the latest digital technology to achieve an analog atmosphere and effect. I think this is the path Japan should take from now on. Japan fully possesses that capability.

I think that sense of handiwork is exactly Japan's strength. However, wages are high in Japan, and people in the sewing industry are quitting one after another. In a factory, people in their 60s are considered young. Even if you go to a factory in Kurashiki, people in their 70s are still active. Therefore, while incorporating automation technology, I hope we can further promote Japan's planning and design capabilities to create valuable things.

Since we can't compete with fast fashion on price, I felt once again that we must communicate more to Japanese users the kind of "story" discussed today—the kind that makes them feel it's worth paying the price.

Currently, the demand for jeans is flat to slightly declining. Young people in the 1970s, when jeans began to spread, had a tremendous enthusiasm and knowledge about jeans fashion, but that has faded recently, so I want to revive it somehow.

By the way, I think if Yukichi Fukuzawa were alive today, he would have worn jeans (laughs). His portrait shows him in a casual kimono, but he disliked stiff samurai clothing because it was a symbol of the feudal system. He liked free clothing, so in that sense, if jeans had been around, I think he would have said, "Hey, let me try those on."

I see, that might be true (laughs). *Affiliations and titles are as of the time of the interview.