From Issue #20
beauty
Cuckoo for Harajuku
Lately,
there’s been a lot of buzz around a Japanese phenomenon:
the Harajuku girl. Unfortunately, for those awaiting her arrival,
she isn’t coming. It isn’t that they refuse to share
her with us, but simply that a Harajuku girl taken out of her
natural habitat is just another fashionable girl. The neighbourhood
is intrinsic in her allure. When on a plane bound for Japan, find
your way into Tokyo, take a train on the Yamanote Line, hop off
at the Harajuku Station next to Yoyogi Park, you could meet one
of the hundreds of Harajuku girls in their natural habitat, walking
the streets of one of the world’s hippest shopping districts.
Harajuku
and Yoyogi Park were once home to the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. Since
then, the area has morphed, and now hosts competitions of an entirely
different kind. It is now the unofficial catwalk for the teen
fashionistas of the city. It is where they go to show off their
savvy sense of style to one another. Although no medals are given
out, they try to impress and outdo each other, just like their
athletic predecessors. In today’s Harajuku, originality
and outlandishness are as good as gold.
But
it hasn’t always been that way. Conformity has long been
the name of the game in Japan, and nowhere is this more evident
than in what people wear. It dates back to the times of Samurais
and Geishas, when citizens were easily identified and classified
into appropriate rank and social standing based on their apparel
and this practice continues on. Japanese society is extremely
regimented, and uniforms, both for work and school, allow people
to be defined within that framework. Uniforms are embraced to
such an extent that even those who aren’t required to wear
them choose to do so. Many wear them during their leisure time,
donning full hiking, skiing, golfing, or tennis ensembles, signaling
to the world the activity they’ve chosen to participate
in. From school kids, to businessmen, to construction workers,
all have a set uniform.
But there’s an exception to every rule. It’s the teens
and twentysomethings. Many take advantage of their youth to push
the boundaries of conformity, knowing that it’s all-but-imminent
with onset of adulthood and clad themselves in wildly unique garments
as a means of self-expression. It’s as though every week
is fashion week in Harajuku, as the hyper stylish youth strut
up and down the streets showing off their latest looks. Some girls
dress up as life-size dolls, complete with frilly petticoats,
lacy knee socks, platform Mary Janes’, and hair done entirely
in ringlets. Others adopt the 1970s London punk aesthetic, wearing
studded belts, knee-high Doc Marten boots, and multi-coloured
kilts to match multi-coloured hair. There is the occasional Western
cowgirl wannabe in the crowd sporting a suede fringe skirt, a
cowboy hat, and a holster with a plastic gun in it. Many of the
girls wear plastic guns, toys, stuffed animals, or cell phones
around their necks like pendants; sometimes, sporting them all
at the same time. Inspiration for an outfit can come from colours
or patterns, like a love of plaid, or even Tweety Bird. She will
decide to wear it from head-to-toe, each item a different colour
and size, even layering several skirts, shirts, or socks on top
of each other. Each outfit is a manifestation of self-expression,
reflecting the wearer’s mood on that particular day.
While
at first glance, it may appear as though the many stores and boutiques
in the neighbourhood, especially along Takeshita-dori, are starting
the trends, but that’s not the case. Unlike Europe and North
America, where famous designers set the standards every season,
in Japan fashion is created on the street. These days, there is
another high profile imitator and admirer of the uber fashionable
Harajuku girls: Gwen Stefani. Her new solo album Love. Angel.
Music. Baby. is full of references to the girls, and seems to
be an unabashed homage to them. There’s the eponymously
named “Harajuku Girls,” featuring the lyrics “You’ve
got that wicked style. I like the way that you are. I am your
biggest fan.” She also refers to Harajuku as the place “where
the catwalk got its claws.” In “Rich Girl” she
acknowledges the girls by saying they “inspire me and come
to my rescue.” Of late, it seems they not only inspire her,
but also surround and adorn her as well.
–
Sara Kinninmont dreams of Japan, but lives in Vancouver
