10 minute read
Halfway There doublet
Halfway There
Colorful, military-inspired embroidery layered innumerably onto the back of an emerald-green hooded puffer jacket until it borders on abstract art; an oversized worsted wool blazer, awkwardly fastened with a single button, conversely exhibiting expert pattern-making in its construction; varsity lettering on a black tee that spells out “T-SHIRT” in tautological fashion, the letters simultaneously disintegrating into a tangle of unfinished threads beyond an invisible line that bisects its horizontal middle. They are glimpses as told in warp and weft of a brand of Americana that is seen through a hazy VCR image, expressions distorted via the fecund vision of a certain Masayuki Ino, founder of six-year-old streetwear label, doublet.
Born in 1979, the same year as the debut of the Sony Walkman, Ino is, upon first glance, scruffy yet sensible, with a long, ponderous face and wispy, mid-length hair that lends him a whiff of artistic rebellion. A native of the mountainous Gunma prefecture, he graduated
from the Tokyo Mode Fashion Academy and joined avant-garde streetwear label MIHARAYASUHIRO as a footwear and accessories designer, where he would stay for the next seven years. “I thought they were really hard to make truly original, since [shoes and accessories] all look more or less the same,” says Ino of his artisanal scope at the time. “So, I decided to make new, ‘original’ clothes with my buddy. In the beginning, we had impeccably-produced, yet miserably-designed clothes. I was such a newb!” Instead, Ino tried his hand at his own accessory designs, creating artfully disheveled belts and bags from leftover pieces of leather sourced from a Tokyo belt factory.
With the help of his friend, pattern-maker Takashi Murakami—not to be confused with the artist by the same name—Ino founded doublet in 2012, which almost immediately garnered critical acclaim when he was awarded the 2013 Tokyo New Designer Fashion Grand Prix. Citing influences from UNDERCOVER and Shinichiro Arakawa to Martin Margiela and Walter Van Beirendonck, Ino’s creations most often echo the consumerist optimism of the 1980s, with his skatewear and rave-inflected interpretations of that period’s dress rendered in satin, glossy plastic, washed-out denim and elaborate patchwork. Taking its name from a type of word puzzle invented by Lewis Carroll of Alice in Wonderland fame, the label is simultaneously unfocused yet hyperrealistic, training a hazy lens on that
period of fashion and injecting an element of disruption into otherwise middle-of-the-road menswear staples. Corporate logos and slogans feature prominently in Ino’s work, harking back to a time of monolithic brands; as does splitting and stitching two disparate garments to form one piece, often held together with a dash of wordplay.
This novel approach towards entropic fashion has won Ino admirers in the likes of Travis Scott, Kendall Jenner, Lil Uzi Vert and Ty Dolla $ign, alongside accolades including the 2017 Tokyo Fashion Award and most recently, as the lauded winner of the 2018 LVMH Prize, elevating the emerging label to the fore of the international fashion stage. With collaborations with 424 and Dover Street Market under Ino’s belt, doublet’s distribution counts 30 outlets within Japan alone, as well as international purveyors that include Barneys New York, 10 Corso Como in Milan and Seoul, and Lane Crawford in Hong Kong.
Riding on this wave of recognition, we caught up with Ino at his home and atelier in Tokyo’s sleepy Tsutsujigaoka neighborhood to explore the roots of his eclectic style, the importance of humor, and how the future of doublet lies in his nostalgia for a time that’s neither here nor there.
Q&A
Could you tell us about yourself and how doublet came to be? I was attending Tokyo Mode Gakuen and wanted to be a designer. After I graduated I started a brand with Takashi Murakami, a pattern designer I used to work with before I left Mihara Yasuhiro. When I was working for Mihara, I wasn’t really involved with the clothing. I worked on stuff like shoes and accessories, which I thought were really hard to make truly original, since they all look more or less the same. So, I decided to make new, “original” clothes with my buddy who knows how to make clothes. In the beginning, we had impeccably-produced, yet miserably-designed clothes. I was such a newb (laughs).
“I WANTED A JOB THAT INVOLVES
DRAWING. I WANTED TO BE A CARTOONIST
AND DO MANGA OR MOVIES,
BUT ALSO DIDN’T WANT TO
BE DRAWING ALL THE TIME…”
The design concept was really unclear because I tried to incorporate too many elements into it. Since then, there have been many failures, a few successes—well, the things I thought were successful anyways. It was around when I began working with Murakami that I started to find my voice. After sticking to that for a while, here I am.
What drove you to become a designer? I wanted a job that involves drawing. I wanted to be a cartoonist and do manga or movies, but also didn’t want to be drawing all the time (laughs). I didn’t know anything back then. I thought that a fashion designer would still get to draw without the constant grind. I just thought, it’s perfect, I won’t be drawing the whole day—just a few sketches and I’m done! Now that the label has a clear identity, it seems that the designs are drawing from many different influences.
Four seasons after doublet launched, I came across amanufacturer that also does embroidery—I still workwith them now. It’s a shop in Kagawa, and they’re really
It really goes back to watching a lot of movies. Like, I was never really good at skating, but getting inspired by watching movies like Kids, and then being blown away by something like [Japanese series] Saraba Seishuin no Hikari—these elements came together for me in a very organic way. Even then, I was putting skateboard stickers on my jackets.
down to try things that haven’t been done before. The concept of that season was “halfway.” I wanted the embroidery to be half-finished. So when I told them I wanted threads hanging from their work, they were like, “You’ll break the machine if you do that!” What I wanted was too extreme, so we tried it little by little, and it worked out. After that, we tried out more new ideas and it just took off from there. That collection wouldn’t have seen the light of day if we’d gone to a different manufacturer. Working with them was definitely a turning point for the label. Designs can’t be brought to life via just one person. It’s created with the help of other people and many other things in the mix. I got lucky.
Like a mashup. Exactly. For me to mix these elements together, I’ve experienced them together. I was probably wearing that stuff at that time. Like wearing a coat over a studded biker jacket.
A coat on top of a biker jacket? And super tight, ripped jeans with a pair of Dr. Martens — bringing all of those things into a single season.
I was pretty into reviving the late ‘90s and early 2000s. Now it’s kind of changed, and what’s nostalgic to me now are my memories from when I was little in the late ‘80s. Like, taking [Japanese cartoon character] Noppo-san as inspiration, or rajio taisō [popular aerobics program broadcasted on TV and radio in Japan]—which look silly today—but could be great if we use it now.
Were there any changes that came from your experiments? Back in the day, Japan was all about normcore. Things that we made seemed like overkill back then. Now it’s different. It’s not really about following trends or just buying stuff that’s easy to digest anymore. It’s more about doing what you want to do, then confidently saying “this is cool, right?” instead of always asking, “how does it look?”
You mentioned that you’ve been exposed to many different subcultures—can you tell us more about this?
For better or worse, by using your own experiences, right? I mean, the kind of humor I’m talking about isn’t forced in any way. It’s something that I actually experienced, which is why I’m comfortable playing around with these concepts. You can honestly just have fun with it.
What do you feel when you see people wearing your clothes? Happy. I was tagged yesterday by a Chinese girl who bought the rajio taisō clothes and I ran into her in real life! I really should’ve said hi, but didn’t want to interrupt her with her boyfriend…
“EVEN THOUGH I DRAW FROM MY MEMORIES IN JAPAN, I TRY TO THINK OF THINGS THAT
RELATE TO THE WORLD IN GENERAL, AND THAT’S WHY I TRY TO BE
CONSCIOUS OF
NOT HAVING THE FINAL PRODUCT JUST END UP SATISFYING
MYSELF. ”
Social media has created a lot of fashion icons, some of whom have worn your clothes. Who was the first person who made you think like, “This is it!”? The first was Ty Dolla $ign. He was the first one to put my work on social media. I was like, “Is this for real?” Ever since then, I would see my work here and there.
I’m wearing wide pants now—these are like, 40 inches. I heard from Takamura-san that you altered a pair of your own pants when you thought they were uncomfortable being too wide. Functionality seems to play a much bigger role in fashion than before. What does functionality mean to you? Functionality is so important. But if we put too much emphasis on function, only companies with the most advanced tech would get any attention. I’d rather make better analog products and work on it with my friends who have supported me all the way to now. This is what function means to me. I’m an awkward guy (laughs). We can make functional garments without a ton of technology if we really think about it.
I recently used this holographic fabric that changes depending on what angle you look at it from. And I think there’s just something so analog about it. Maison Martin Margiela used something like that recently but their fabric is crazy advanced. But you know, we can achieve the same effect—just gotta work a little harder.
When I used a hologram print in the LVMH Prize competition earlier this year, Haider Ackermann said to me, “This would make Galliano [who used a similar fabric in Margiela SS18] jealous.” Maybe that should have been off-the-record. But it really is the best compliment you can get, isn’t it?