Issue #14

Words by Cory Ohlendorf | Photography by Sacraw Studios

Just two decades ago, Halloween didn’t even exist in Japan. But today, you’ll see splashes of orange and black everywhere—along with specialty-themed foods, big events and people in costumes. However, Halloween here isn’t just an imitation of the American version. Most noticeably, there’s essentially no “trick or treating”. And as a newly emerging holiday, Japanese people are less interested in the ancient Celtic traditions of Halloween and more than happy to make this a celebration that suits their needs and desires. Still, it’s become quite the ordeal. But how’d we get here?

Halloween was a niche, foreign oddity for most Japanese until fairly recently. Back in the 1980s, the autumnal holiday was little more than an expat indulgence—something Westerners would import for the sake of their kids (or maybe just nostalgia). You might see a few carved jack-o'-lanterns glowing in the suburban neighborhoods or decorations at international school events. The spectacle of children dressed up in costumes was met with strange fascination by locals who, at best, viewed Halloween merely as an “outsiders’ holiday”.

Leave it to Disney to export American fun around the world. While locals say Kiddy Land in Harajuku first brought Halloween celebrations to Tokyo (hosting parades and selling products in the mid-1970s and ‘80s), it was Tokyo Disneyland that really got people’s attention. The theme park hosted its first official Halloween event in 1997 and each year, it just got bigger and cuter. The sweet (not scary) interpretation of the holiday really resonated with the Japanese.

In a culture where seasonal events are almost religiously observed, Halloween was welcomed into the lineup as a way to celebrate fall and have a little fun. Suddenly, Halloween started to pop up at all the theme parks across Japan, while department stores and cafes began to capitalize on the holiday. There were seasonal products and gifts, events like costume contests and pumpkin-flavored everything. Slowly but surely, Tokyo was bitten by the Halloween bug—albeit a more playful, less menacing version than the macabre version we know in the West.

And if Disneyland ignited a spark of desire, Shibuya exploded into a wild fire. By the early aughts, Shibuya was the beating tell-tale heart of Japan’s love affair with Halloween. It started with young people—anime otakus, cutesy Harajuku girls and horror movies fans—all excited to dress up for the night. It soon grew into a full-blown street festival of drunken costume enthusiasts. Super heroes, zombies, sexy nurses and bloody vampires all converged on the legendary Shibuya Scramble—powered by excitement and canned cocktails.

The cosplay culture was already thriving in Japan—dedicated anime and manga fans have long been painstakingly recreating their favorite character’s outfits and makeup to dress up like them. For these young people, Halloween provided an opportunity to really go all out and showcase their talents. Only now, there’s a party atmosphere and a touch of the supernatural thrown in for fun. Of course, the enthusiasm predominantly emanates from adults, making Halloween much more adult-centric in Japan.

Each year, the obsession with Halloween seems to grow more intense, more extravagant and more commercial. It’s safe to say that the Japanese have made the holiday their own and embedded the idea into the country’s DNA. But as it grows, so do the challenges of maintaining it. In Tokyo, Shibuya’s street parties—which now easily draw in upwards of 1 million people—have caused a significant strain on public services, leading city officials to enforce stricter rules and crack down on unsavory behavior. Drinking on the streets around the station is now banned and Shibuya’s neighbor, Shinjuku, also recently passed an ordinance prohibiting drinking on the street in the Kabukicho area during Halloween. Still, it’s hard to imagine Tokyo’s Halloween fading away anytime soon. The spectacle is too big, the allure too strong and the costumes are just too damn good.

This looks like the perfect vintage cardigan, but it's actually part of the Beams fall collection. The famed shop's house line always has solid staples like this—a seven gauge knit cardigan finished with classic tonal buttons. Available in black, a minty green or this neutral taupe shade, the sweaters are knit from a mohair and wool blend (with some added nylon for durability and that vintage vibe). The knit is then brushed for a more shaggy, voluminous texture. It's an easy piece that you'll get a lot of wear out of over the fall and winter, and with the current exchange rate, the price is really reasonable.

Mottainai (勿体無い) is term that describes a feeling of regret when something is put to waste without deriving its full value. The closest English translation might be something akin to "waste not, want not." Originating in Japan's Edo-period, at a time where items handcrafted from natural resources were used, reused, and repurposed as a means to respect both nature and quality craftsmanship. Why throw something out when it can be repaired? Just look at the beautifully layered and stitched indigo-dyed boro fabrics. Why throw away a less-desirable piece of the fish when it can simply be prepared a different way to make it more appetizing? This concept was explained to me recently at an amazing sushi dinner when the fins and head of a fish where grilled and salted to a crispy cracker texture. Something I never would've considered eating became a delicious treat. In Japan, nothing goes to waste.