Issue #15

Words by Cory Ohlendorf | Photography by Page Light Studios

The first time I went vintage shopping in Tokyo I was shocked. Over and over again. First, at the sheer volume of vintage, secondhand and specialized resale shops. There are those that just focus on bag and leather goods. Others that only stock mid-century furniture. And then there was the service in the store. In America, you’re used to digging through bins and pulling out a wrinkled garment that’s been stuffed into an overcrowded rack. They’re old clothes, so we don’t really expect them to be handled with much care. But in Japan, I’ve seen sales people steaming each piece before it gets placed out onto the sales floor. Much of the furniture is cleaned, polished and repaired before it’s sold.

How’d this happen? How did Japan became such a utopia of reasonably-priced secondhand clothing from all over the world? Well, there’s a handful of reasons, really. First of all, there’s something to be said for the Japanese concept of wabi-sabi—embracing authenticity and appreciating things for being unique and imperfect. A rare, well-worn leather jacket from the 1970s is a hell of a lot cooler than a brand new one from a standard label bought at a department store, right?

Another concept, which we learned about in last week’s newsletter, mottainai, embraces the sustainability of selling old clothing and buying things used to give them another life in order to reduce waste. It’s also a financially smart and savvy way to get more for your money. Of course, people buy vintage for all sorts of reasons—sometimes it’s price or access, sometimes it’s historical significance, quality or character. Japan is an enthusiast’s paradise and if you’re a fashion fan, you’re in luck. There are more vintage shops in Japan than anywhere else.

But the thing that surprised me the most was definitely the quality of the items. “This looks brand new!” I must’ve said this a dozen times in the first half hour of shopping. Then I came to learn that this is deeply rooted in the country’s broader cultural practices. The Japanese approach to cherishing and maintaining one’s possessions—a concept known as mono wo taisetsu ni (cherish your things)—ensures that vintage luxury pieces are often in excellent condition. This cultural respect for belongings translates into a robust market for vintage luxury, where the condition of items remains paramount.

Of course, for style insiders, flying to Japan to stock up on quality vintage items was something of a rite of passage. But today, secondhand shopping has become a hallmark for all visitors, thanks to a rise in videos from TikTokers and YouTubers. And you don’t even need to come here. Customers outside the country also buy goods online through services such as Buyee, which connects its more than 5.5 million users to Japanese e-commerce marketplaces such as Mercari Japan, Yahoo! Japan Auctions and Zozotown.

“When I interact with those customers, I think many of them are early adopters to purchasing items from Japan, especially in the U.S.,” Sei Sato, head of the cross- border e-commerce division at Buyee, told Business of Fashion recently. “In Japan, the smallest defects or damages [on used goods] affect resale prices dramatically. Whereas in the United States, the same damage will not affect the resale value much.” But where does it all come from? And how can there be this much good stuff? Sato has a theory about that, too. He says Japan’s vast inventory of used luxury and high- fashion goods traces back to the 1990s, a period of economic stagnation known as “The Lost Decade”. Japanese consumers who had become hooked on luxury during the boom years of the 1980s wanted to keep shopping, but were looking for bargains. Eventually the country started attracting international shoppers looking to buy used fashion.

Shop owners also take a lot of pride in their assortment and often travel overseas to curate collections. After he discovered I was American and from Los Angeles, a shop keeper in Shimokitazowa that specializes in denim and other rugged items was explaining how some of his best pieces were procured at the famed Rose Bowl Flea Market in Los Angeles and another lesser known vintage fair in Texas. That must be why I’ve found some amazing American goods—from old school Polo Ralph Lauren and Schott leather jackets—that you simply can’t find Stateside. Of course, there’s also plenty of Japanese and European labels from Comme des Garçons and Yohji Yamamoto to Issey Miyake, and Junya Watanabe—all for prices that seem too good to be true. What’s more, if you’re visiting, take advantage of tax-free purchasing. Anything over $50 can be bought without sales tax. Simply show your passport at checkout, and the tax on your purchases will be deducted. If you’re buying big-ticket items such as a designer bag or a piece of outerwear, this can rack up some serious savings (which can be reinvested in more vintage clothing).

This handsome new book from friend of the newsletter W. David Marx and his collaborator Roni Xu offers a culinary tour through Japan’s mid-century restaurants, kissaten, bars, and hotels that managed to survive earthquakes, firebombs, and urban redevelopment (along with a few that didn’t). The informative and comprehensive guide focuses entirely on the Shōwa era, which ran from 1926 to 1989. This was a unique time in the country's history, which Marx calls "a formative period when Japan absorbed Western influences, but hadn’t quite mastered the details." The hybridization resulted in what is now an extremely unique Japanese culture of yōshoku diners, woody kissaten cafes, nostalgic cake shops, and red brick cocktail bars.

Iyasareru (癒される) is a transitive verb that means "to heal; to cure or satisfy”. But it's not the word used for physical healing. Rather, it's used to convey whatever helps to alleviate or eliminate your emotional distress. Perhaps a better translation would be “soothe”. It’s not uncommon for someone to murmur iyasareru (“I’m being healed”) while sipping a steaming cup of green tea or soaking in a hot bath after a long day at the office.  But iyasu isn’t just for relaxing things. If you spend an hour belting out tunes at karaoke or zoning out to brain-tingling ASMR videos on YouTube, then find that all the negative thoughts and energy that were surrounding you have floated away and been replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling, you too can say iyasareru.