There’s no doubt that Japanese culture is filled with specific idiosyncrasies, some of which can be traced to its history as a deeply isolationist empire. Following World War II and America’s injection of a kind of hyper-capitalist ethos into their more traditional society, the strains of what appeared as bizarre to Westerners were hyper-boosted. Add onto that post-nuclear anxiety, impossibly speedy economic recovery and growing technological prowess, and you’ve got yourself a recipe for certain kinds of eccentricities.
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An Ode to 'Fruits,' the Japanese Streetwear Magazine That Shaped Style
This dynamic is perhaps most apparent in Japanese fashion, where elements of the country’s conservative attitudes consistently clash with a fever for newness. This extreme tension was captured most explicitly in the influential fashion magazine Fruits—a periodical that would eventually become deeply important around the globe.
Fruits was founded by photographer Shoichi Aoki, who in the late ‘90s and early ‘00s took to the streets of Tokyo to document the everyday styles he spotted in Japan’s most major metropolis. What Aoki found was a handful of ultra-specific micro-subcultures that were virtually nonexistent outside of that city—although, ironically, it was the publication’s international popularity that caused bastardized versions of these styles to be imported to the United States and beyond. In 2001, Western publisher Phaidon collected some of the magazine’s best images into books that garnered cult popularity in urban and suburban teens looking to Japan for counter-cultural inspiration. Certainly, Americans were drawn to what they biasedly perceived as “wacky”—and it was clear that these images in no way represented Japan as a whole—but its influence expanded nonetheless.
The images from Fruits remain absolutely striking to this day, and the styles captured are having a resurgence as everything from right before and after Y2K is living a second life in this current retro fashion cycle. The Japanese youths who created their own colorful interpretations of goth, grunge and punk cultures—which in some cases were morphed into their own new subcultures, like the visual kei, lolita and ganguro styles—should properly be hailed as major influences on the contemporary streetwear landscape. Harajuku, a small district in Tokyo filled with unique shopping destinations, quickly garnered a reputation as a hub of extreme fashion.
For those who grew up worshipping Fruits’ pages, it’s easy to see how deeply the Fruits brainworm dug its way into the zeitgeist. It’s not hard to spot the nods to Fruits in unfortunate places, like Hot Topic’s cheap Lolita dress rip-offs or the ubiquitous watered-down rave wear of Coachella attendees. But it also crops up in more opulent attempts at the lush and dramatic versions of dark glamor now seen in the second wave of nu-mutal and high-end haute couture—or in the revitalization of cyberpunk from brands like Dior. The gender-bending ethos of the Fruits children now deeply informs queer culture in the United States—so much so that recent pictures from New York’s nightlife scene are somewhat indistinguishable from Fruits’ more extreme imagery.
Fruits would ultimately shutter in February 2017. It was clear to Aoki that the colorful teenyboppers who roamed Harajuku’s streets had grown up—and that the youth of this new decade are far less inclined to extreme self-expression in the same way. "There are no more cool kids to photograph,” he said in an interview that announced the magazine’s end. Luckily, intrepid Instagrammers are now archiving Fruits looks on social media, preserving the legacy in a more up-to-date medium, and pages like the Tokyo Fashion Instagram continue in the Fruits tradition.
Japanese streetwear has (for better or worse) since become much slicker, far more muted and streamlined in terms of color and construction, and increasingly organized around luxury brands. In fact, “Japan accounts for up to 30 to 40 percent of some global luxury brands’ profitability,” according to a 2017 study. The days of Fruits have come and gone, but—if you know what to look for—it’s obvious that we couldn’t have arrived at our current moment without Aoki’s vision.