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Plants saved her life. Now she's helping others heal at her L.A. plant shop

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Plants saved her life. Now she's helping others heal at her L.A. plant shop

On a Sunday afternoon, inside a whimsical Redondo Beach plant shop, eight women and I sat at a workshop table, smiling and laughing as we played with dirt.

With bird chirping sounds and mediation music humming in the background, we closed our eyes and dug our hands into containers filled with soil, noticing the coolness of it and its texture. There were tissue boxes within reach in case we needed to wipe away any tears.

In our Plant PPL series, we interview people of color in the plant world. If you have suggestions for PPL to include, tag us on Instagram @latimesplants.

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“Remember when we were little, we weren’t scared of this,” said Barbara Lawson, who was leading the group at Meet Me in the Dirt, which she opened at the South Bay Galleria in 2022. In the 2,400-square foot space, which is brimming with houseplants and self-care products, Lawson holds gatherings such as group journaling events, wellness retreats, grief counseling sessions and today’s workshop, a soil meditation experience.

“The efficacy of gardening and mental health is a real thing,” said Lawson, who is also a certified grief counselor. “Not only did it heal me, [I’ve been] able to use it to help heal other people.”

At the workshop table, Lawson offered us gloves but discouraged us from wearing them, so we could experience the benefits of putting our hands in the soil. Some research suggests that a bacterium found in soil, Mycobacterium vaccae, may help fend off stress.

“My mama used to tell me, ‘A little dirt don’t hurt,’” Lawson, 51, quipped.

“The efficacy of gardening and mental health is a real thing,” said Barbara Lawson, who is also a certified grief counselor.

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Workshop participants massage their hands in soil to experience the healing benefits of it.

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Lawson knows firsthand the impact that playing in soil and being exposed to greenery can have on one’s wellness. Although she grew up watching her grandmother tend to the fruit trees in her garden when she was a child, Lawson didn’t pick up gardening until she was in her 30s. As a wife and mother of six children — she has a blended family — Lawson used gardening to carve out alone time and express herself creatively. The self-taught painter, who only paints flowers and has a functional art business called Barbara’s Delight, planted trees and colorful flowers in her backyard. The garden was “my escape,” she said.

Then over time, Lawson stopped spending as much time in her garden. And before she knew it, more than a decade had passed since she’d tended to it.

“I’m a very optimistic person — that’s my normal personality — [but] I started noticing a very dull sadness [in myself],” she recalled. “It didn’t come on all of a sudden, it was something that crept in a little bit at a time.”

Lawson realized that she was going through a period of depression because she’d never fully grieved her mother’s death. Her mom died from congestive heart failure when Lawson was 24 years old.

Lawson regularly holds soil meditation experiences at Meet Me in the Dirt.

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“If you do not deal with [grief], it can come back to create problems later,” Lawson said. Instead of confronting the pain of her mother’s death, she focused on her career and raising her family, she added.

“Nobody sits around and talks about how to deal with the loss of a person, a relationship or a career,” Lawson said, adding that other cultures such as the Latino community have holidays like Día de los Muertos to grieve their loved ones. But many Black people “are not in contact with whatever our traditional practices were, so beyond the funeral, there is no other support there.”

The thought of her mother “not being here hurt too much, so I pushed the memories away,” said Lawson, “even if I knew instinctively that I wanted to think about her.”

In 2016, Lawson started going to therapy for the first time, and her therapist suggested that she get back into gardening since it used to bring her so much joy. One day after she returned home from therapy, Lawson gutted her garden so she could start anew. At first, she planted vegetables and fruits, including eggplant, corn, watermelon and cucumber, as well as an herb garden.

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When she was sad, she wanted to be around greenery “because that meant something was growing,” Lawson said. “Green is serene. It is calming and it just means growth. That’s what I felt like I needed.”

As she started to feel more like herself, she slowly added more color to her garden. She planted an array of flowers including black-eyed Susans (Rudbeckia hirta), daisy-like cosmos, sunflowers and pansies. She also decorated the garden with keepsakes from her life, including some of her mother’s antiques and her husband’s old work boots, which she used to hold plants.

“It was literally saving my life,” Lawson said. “Doing sustainable gardening helped me kind of put myself back together.” She documented her healing journey on Facebook and talked about the correlation that gardening had with her life.

After discovering several caterpillars in her backyard, Lawson decided to raise monarch butterflies in her garden as well. And to her surprise, they transitioned into fully formed butterflies on her mother’s birthday.

“It was like [God] being like, ‘It’s done,’” she said, adding that she felt like she’d gone through a transition just like the butterfly. “For Him to give me [that] gift on her birthday was a miracle.”

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After this experience, Lawson started teaching people how to use plants for healing in their own lives via Facebook Live. She also demonstrated how to grow food and start herb gardens. And because her garden was overflowing with plants, she began selling some of them.

Then in early 2020, Lawson was laid off from her corporate job with an anesthesia company. The timing worked out perfectly, though, because she was already planning to leave so she could focus on building Meet Me in the Dirt.

Much like her own garden, Lawson has decorated her store with captivating and bright art pieces and other items.

Lawson designed Meet Me in the Dirt to feel like a healing oasis for patrons.

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The plant shop, which is located at the South Bay Galleria, specializes in indoor houseplants.

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In April 2021, she converted a small bus that she found on Facebook Marketplace into a mobile plant nursery, which she named “Oasis.” (She refers to Oasis as a woman.) Each weekend, she’d take Oasis to farmers markets and pop-up events around Los Angeles to sell plants and teach people about their healing powers. After several months of doing that, she purchased a space to do this outside of the Del Amo Fashion Center in Torrance.

A few months later, a representative from the South Bay Galleria asked her if she’d be open to having a storefront for Meet Me in the Dirt inside the mall. Lawson wasn’t interested at first because she loved her mobile nursery, but when she saw the space in person, she knew that she had to have it.

The retail space “fit into my God-sized dream,” she said, adding that she wanted to have a place where she could meet with her grief counseling clients, host events regularly and provide an overall wellness retreat experience. She officially opened the plant shop and wellness center in June 2022.

“Doing sustainable gardening helped me kind of put myself back together,” said Lawson.

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Meet Me in the Dirt sells an array of houseplants and self-care products such as candles, body oils and bath salts that Lawson makes herself.

Lawson said she wants people to feel like they are transported into a healing oasis each time they enter the store. The space, which looks like an enchanted forest, is filled with easy-care houseplants including monsteras, different types of pothos, Zanzibar Gems (a.k.a. ZZ plants), calatheas and aglaonemas. Sparkling chandeliers hang from the ceiling. Floral sculptures appear throughout the store, including one that is garbed in a silk robe. A projector screen displays a peaceful waterfall and meditation music plays on a loop. There’s also a swing near the front of the shop, and a framed photo of Lawson’s mother sits near the cash register.

Once you walk over a turf-grass-covered bridge toward the back of the shop, there are five “Zen” rooms, which people ages 21 and up can rent for $50 to $100 per hour. (The price varies depending on which amenities you select, such as a meal, an art box, a massage with a professional masseuse, etc.). The rooms represent and are named after what people may need in their life at that time. The names include worthy, valued, cherished (this room has a massage chair inside), loved and chosen.

In addition to soil meditation experiences, Lawson hosts birthday parties, private gardening classes, bridal showers, women empowerment workshops and more at the shop. People can rent the store for private events as well.

Brenda Gallow, right, participates in a soil meditation experience at Meet Me in the Dirt.

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Although Brenda Gallow has been to Meet Me in the Dirt several times, she started crying when she walked inside on a recent visit.

“It never fails,” she said. “The aroma. The scent. My soul [feels] like it’s releasing.”

Gallow met Lawson several years ago when she purchased a few Barbara’s Delight products. She also held her 60th birthday party at the Meet Me in the Dirt shop. What keeps her coming back is the feeling she gets when she’s there, Gallow said.

She believes the experience is more than just playing in the dirt. “You literally find yourself,” she said. “You can come and do work here. You can be worked on and blessed all at the same time.”

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Gallow added, “This is a safe haven for no matter what you’re going through.”

For Angela Cooper, Lawson’s recent soil meditation event gave her “permission” to relax and prioritize herself.

“She knows I have a lot going on in my life and [that] I don’t get a lot of self-care in, so she wanted me to come and not worry about anything else. Not worry about the kids [or] my family — just worry about me” said Cooper, who has been friends with Lawson since high school. She’s attended several of Lawson’s workshops, but this was her first time doing the soil meditation.

“It was very refreshing and rewarding, especially when our hands were in that dirt,” she said, adding that it felt good to soothe herself with it. “I’m always blessed when I come here.”

Lawson comforts her friend, Tselane Gardner, a longtime mental health professional, at the end of the workshop.

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In addition to soil meditation experiences, Meet Me in the Dirt hosts birthday parties, gardening classes and more.

Toward the end of the two-hour workshop, Lawson instructed everyone to pick a plant that we felt most called to. I chose a monstera, with its leaves like Swiss cheese, because of its uniqueness. Then Lawson told us to remove our plants from the flimsy plastic pots they came in, so we could repot and place them into larger pots that were more sturdy. (All of the materials, including the plants and pots, were provided by Lawson as part of the $75 workshop.)

It was easy to pull out my monstera plant from its original pot, but I watched as others struggled to remove theirs because the roots had grown so thick and tight. Some women even had to stand up in order to remove their plants.

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“Sometimes you’re going to have to take really drastic moves [and] apply force to remove yourself from a place,” Lawson said in a tender, motherly tone. Like plants, we can get comfortable in a space even though we’ve outgrown it, she said.

That was the moment when Lawson’s message clicked for many of the women, including me, and tears began to fall.

Once we finished repotting our plants, one of Lawson’s assistants passed out plastic monarch butterflies for us to place in our pots. The butterflies were meant to serve as a visual reminder of how far we’d come and what we had to shed along the way in order to enter a new season.

“This is still a caterpillar,” Lawson said as she held up the plastic butterfly. “It’s just a fuller version of itself.”

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You’re Invited! (No, You’re Not.) It’s the Latest Phishing Scam.

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You’re Invited! (No, You’re Not.) It’s the Latest Phishing Scam.

When John Lantigua, a retired journalist in Miami Beach, checked his email one recent morning, he was glad to see an invitation.

“It was like, ‘Come and share an evening with me. Click here for details,’” Mr. Lantigua said.

It appeared to be a Paperless Post invitation from someone he once worked with at The Palm Beach Post, a man who had left Florida for Mississippi and liked to arrange dinners when he was back in town.

Mr. Lantigua, 78, clicked the link. It didn’t open.

He clicked a second time. Still nothing.

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He didn’t realize what was going on until a mutual friend who had received the same email told him it wasn’t an invitation at all. It was a scam.

Phishing scams have long tried to frighten people into clicking on links with emails claiming that their bank accounts have been hacked, or that they owe thousands of dollars in fines, or that their pornography viewing habits have been tracked.

The invitation scam is a little more subtle: It preys on the all-too-human desire to be included in social gatherings.

The phishy invitations mimic emails from Paperless Post, Evite and Punchbowl. What appears to be a friendly overture from someone you know is really a digital Trojan horse that gives scammers access to your personal information.

“I thought it was diabolical that they would choose somebody who has sent me a legitimate invitation before,” Mr. Lantigua said. “He’s a friend of mine. If he’s coming to town, I want to see him.”

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Rachel Tobac, the chief executive of SocialProof Security, a cybersecurity firm, said she noticed the scam last holiday season.

“Phishing emails are not a new thing,” Ms. Tobac said, “but every six months, we get a new lure that hijacks our amygdala in new ways. There’s such a desire for folks to get together that this lure is interesting to people. They want to go to a party.”

Phishing scams involve “two distinct paths,” Ms. Tobac added. In one, the recipient is served a link that turns out to be dead, or so it seems. A click activates malware that runs silently as it gleans passwords and other bits of personal information. In all likelihood, this is what happened when Mr. Lantigua clicked on the ersatz invitation link.

Another scam offers a working link. Potential victims who click on it are asked to provide a password. Those who take that next step are a boon to hackers.

“They have complete control of your email and, in turn, your entire digital life,” Ms. Tobac said. “They can reset your password for your dog’s Instagram account. They can take over your bank account. Change your health insurance.”

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Digital invitation platforms are trying to combat the scam by publishing guides on how to spot fake invitations. Paperless Post has also set up an email account — phishing@paperlesspost.com — for users to submit messages for verification. The company sends suspicious links to the Anti-Phishing Working Group, a nonprofit that maintains a database monitored by cybersecurity firms. Flagged links are rendered ineffective.

The scammers’ new strategy of exploiting the desire for connection is infuriating, said Alexa Hirschfeld, a founder of Paperless Post. “Life can be isolating,” Ms. Hirschfeld said. “When it looks like you’re getting an invitation from someone you know, your first instinct is excitement, not skepticism.”

Olivia Pollock, the vice president of brand for Evite, said that fake invitations tended to be generic, promising a birthday party or a celebration of life. Most invitations these days tend to have a specific focus — mahjong gatherings or book club talks, for instance. “The devil is in the details,” Ms. Pollock said.

Because scammers don’t know how close you are with the people in your contact list, fake invitations may also seem random. “They could be from your business school roommate you haven’t spoken to in 10 years,” Ms. Hirschfeld said.

Alyssa Williamson, who works in public relations in New York, was leaving a yoga class recently when she checked her phone and saw an invitation from a college classmate.

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“I assumed it was an alumni event,” Ms. Williamson, 30, said. “I clicked on it, and it was like, ‘Enter your email.’ I didn’t even think about it.”

Later that day, she received texts from friends asking her about the party invitation she had just sent out. Her response: What party?

“The thing is, I host a lot of events,” she said. “Some knew it was fake. Others were like, ‘What’s this? I can’t open it.’”

Andrew Smith, a graduate student in finance who lives in Manhattan, received what looked like a Punchbowl invitation to “a memory making celebration.” It appeared to have come from a woman he had dated in college. He received it when he was having drinks at a bar on a Friday night — “a pretty insidious piece of timing,” he said.

“The choice of sender was super clever,” Mr. Smith, 29, noted. “This was somebody that would probably get a reaction from me.”

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Mr. Smith seized on the phrase “memory making celebration” and filled in the blanks. He imagined that someone in his ex-girlfriend’s immediate family had died. Perhaps she wanted to restart contact at this difficult moment.

Something saved him when he clicked a link and tried to tap out his personal information — his inability to remember the password to his email account. The next day, he reached out to his ex, who confirmed that the invitation was fake.

“It didn’t trigger any alarm bells,” Mr. Smith said. “I went right for the click. I went completely animal brain.”

The new scam comes with an unfortunate side effect, a suspicion of invitations altogether. It’s enough to make a person antisocial.

“Don’t invite me to anything,” Mr. Lantigua, the retired journalist, said, only half-joking. “I’m not coming.”

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The New Rules for Negotiating With Multibrand Retailers

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The New Rules for Negotiating With Multibrand Retailers
Partnerships with multibrand players remain vital to fashion brands of all sizes, but the rules of engagement have changed as the sector has come under immense strain. BoF breaks down what brands need to know to reduce risk while building lasting relationships.
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The Japanese Designers Changing Men’s Wear

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The Japanese Designers Changing Men’s Wear

You want to know where men’s fashion is heading? Follow the geeks.

These are the obsessives, fixated, with a NASA technician’s precision, on how their pants fit or on which pair of Paraboot shoes is the correct pair. These are the obsessives who in the aughts were early to selvage denim (now available at a Uniqlo near you!) and soft-shouldered Italian tailoring in the mode that, eventually, trickled down to your local J. Crew.

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And where has the attention of this cohort landed now? On a vanguard of newish-to-the-West labels from Japan, like A.Presse, Comoli, Auralee and T.T.

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A.Presse is probably the most hyped of this cohort. What other label is worn by the French soccer player Pierre Kalulu and the actor Cooper Hoffman and has men paying a premium for a hoodie on the resale market? Kazuma Shigematsu, the founder, is not into attention. When we spoke, he wouldn’t allow me to record the conversation. Notes only.

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“You mean a better-fitting denim jacket that’s based on an old Levi’s thing? Yeah, OK, sold,” said Jeremy Kirkland, host of the “Blamo!” podcast and the textbook definition of a latter-day Japanese men’s wear guy. Mr. Kirkland, once someone who would allocate his budget to Italian suits, admitted that, recently, over the course of two weeks, he bought four (yes, four) jackets from A.Presse1.

“I’m not really experimenting with my style anymore,” Mr. Kirkland said. “I’m just wanting really good, basic stuff.”

Basic though these clothes appear, their hook is that they’re opulent to the touch, elevated in their fabrication.

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Over the years, the designer Ryota Iwai has told me repeatedly that he is inspired by nothing more than the people he sees on his commute to the Auralee offices in Tokyo. When asked recently if he collected anything, he said nothing — just his bicycle.

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The true somber tale of this wave. The brand’s founder, Taiga Takahashi, died of an arrhythmia in 2022 at 27. The label has continued to plumb history for inspiration. The latest collection had pieces that drew on bygone American postal-worker uniforms.

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An Auralee2 bomber looks pedestrian until you touch it and realize its silk. Labels like T.T3 make clothes that echo the specs of a vintage relic yet come factory fresh, notched up, made … well, better. They bestow upon the wearer a certain in-the-know authority.

And so there is a hobbyist giddiness present on Discord channels where 30- and 40-something men trade tips on how to size moleskin trousers by the Japanese label Comoli; at boutiques like Neighbour in Vancouver, British Columbia, where items like a $628 dusty pink trucker jacket from Yoko Sakamoto and an $820 T.T sweater sell out soon after hitting the sales floor.

What’s notable is how swiftly these geeky preferences have wiggled into the broader fashion community. While I was in Paris for the men’s fashion shows a year ago January, all anyone wanted to talk about were things with a “Made in Japan” tag. I would speak with editors who were carving out room in their suitcases for Auralee’s $3,000 leather jackets.

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Ryota Iwai, designer of Auralee.

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Kazuma Shigematsu, designer of A.Presse.

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Keijiro Komori, designer of Comoli. via Comoli

But these were clothes being shown away from the fashion week hordes. The A.Presse showroom was on a Marais side street in a space about as long as a bowling lane and scarcely wider that was crammed with racks of canvas, silk and denim jackets with Pollock-like paint splatters. There were leather jackets as plush as Roche Bobois sofas and hoodies based on sweatshirts made in America a half-century ago.

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I got the hype. After 10 days of puzzling over newfangled stuff on the runways, the display of simple, understandable shapes we’ve known our whole lives, but redone with extra care, couldn’t have felt more welcome.

Kazuma Shigematsu, the A.Presse designer, said he had collected a trove of vintage pieces that he housed in a separate space to plumb for inspiration. He made new clothes based on old clothes that benefited from a century of small design tweaks.

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By this January, A.Presse had upgraded to a regal maison facing the Place des Vosges, with giant windows and even more reverent hoodies, even more tender leathers. Back in America, I asked an online department store executive what his favorite thing from Paris was. He took out his phone to show me photos of himself trying on a zip-up leather jacket in A.Presse’s high-ceilinged showroom.

On Their Own Terms

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“We never think about trendiness or popular design details,” Ms. Sakamoto said through a translator. “It’s more like functionality, everyday use.” The label has a thing for natural dyes: pants stained with persimmon tannin, yellow ochre and sumi ink, shirts colored with mugwort and adzuki beans.

The sudden popularity of these labels outside Japan can make it feel as if they are new. Yet each label has built a respectable business within Japan, some for more than a decade. Auralee was founded in 2015. A year later, Yoko Sakamoto4 started its line. A.Presse is the relative baby of this cohort at five years old.

“A couple years ago, we would have to buy off the line sheet or go to Japan and see everything,” said Saager Dilawri, the owner of Neighbour, who has an instinct for what spendy, creative types lust after. “Now I think everyone from Japan is trying to go to Paris to get into the international market.”

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This movement’s “Beatles on Ed Sullivan” moment occurred in 2018, when Auralee won the Fashion Prize of Tokyo, granting the designer, Ryota Iwai, financial support. Soon after, Auralee was given a slot on the Paris Fashion Week calendar.

“I had never seen a show before, never thought to do it,” Mr. Iwai said through a translator in February, days after his latest runway show. He has now done five.

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As we talked, buyers speaking different languages entered his storefront showroom and ventured upstairs to scrutinize items like a trench coat that looked as if it was made of corduroy but was actually made from cashmere and wool and an MA-1 bomber jacket with a feathery merino wool lining peeking out along the placket.

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The Cale designer Yuki Sato travels throughout Japan to find textiles. Unusually, the company manufactures everything, including leather and denim, in one factory.

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At Cale’s5 display off Place Vendôme, the designer Yuki Sato described denim trousers and pocketed work jackets as “modest, but perfectionist.” On the other side of the city, at Soshi Otsuki, whose 11-year-old label Soshiotsuki has gained attention for its warped vision of salary-man suits, I encountered buyers from Kith, a New York streetwear emporium better known for selling logoed hoodies and sell-out sneakers than for tailoring.

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Nearly a decade into its existence, Soshiotsuki has hit a hot streak. Soshi Otsuki won the LVMH Prize in 2025, and he already has a Zara collaboration under his belt. An Asics collaboration is set to arrive in stores soon.

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Talking through translators with these designers, I began to worry that it might be unfair to group them together simply because they were all from Japan. Auralee simmers with colors as lush as a Matisse canvas, while Comoli’s brightest shade is brown. Soshiotsuki6 has mastered tailoring, while Orslow is known for its faded-at-the-knee jeans channeling decades-old Levi’s.

Rather, as with the Antwerp Six design clique that sprung out of Belgium in the early 1980s, it is these labels’ origin stories that thread them together.

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“They’re being encountered on their own terms and respected on their own account, and they happen to be Japanese,” said W. David Marx, the author of “Ametora: How Japan Saved American Style” and a cultural critic who has lived in Tokyo for more than two decades.

“It is a new era of Japanese fashion on the global stage,” Mr. Marx said.

A Love Affair With Japan

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Western shoppers have a history of falling hard for clothes from Japan. In 1981, when Rei Kawakubo of Comme des Garçons and Yohji Yamamoto crashed onto the Paris fashion scene, buyers swooned for their brainy, body-shrouding creations.

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Recently reintroduced as Number(N)ine by Takahiro Miyashita.

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Years later, Number(N)ine7 and A Bathing Ape synthesized trends we would call American — grunge, streetwear and hip-hop — polished them up and sold them back to the West.

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Years before American men were trawling the internet for A.Presse, they would scour forums for deals on Visvim’s jeans and sneakers. Today, Visvim has stores in Santa Fe, N.M.; Carmel, Calif.; and Los Angeles.

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Into the 2000s, clothing geeks were swapping tips on forums like Superfuture and Hypebeast about how to use a Japanese proxy service to buy Visvim’s8 seven-eyelet leather work boots or SugarCane’s brick-thick jeans.

Along the way, “Made in Japan” became a shorthand for “made well.” This was more than fetishization. As America’s clothing factories became empty carcasses pockmarking the heartland, Japan’s apparel industry grew steroidal.

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“Japan still has an incredible manufacturing base for apparel that goes all the way from the textiles to the sewing to the postproduction,” Mr. Marx said.

Today, many Japanese labels produce most of their garments and, crucially, their textiles in Japan. When I first met Mr. Iwai years ago, I asked how he managed to create such lush colors. He answered, as if noting that the sky was blue, that he worked with the factories that developed his fabrics. As I spoke with Mr. Sato in January, he shared that Cale’s factory had been in his family for generations and also produced for other Japanese brands that I would know.

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Chris Green, the owner of Ven. Space, a boutique in the Carroll Gardens neighborhood of Brooklyn that has helped to introduce a number of these labels to an American market, suggested that because Japan is a small country with a fervent fashion culture, a competitive spirit has been stoked.

“They have to be able to cut through the noise,” Mr. Green said, with brands trying to prove that their cashmere sweater can outclass their peers’, that their silks are sourced from finer factories. What’s more, he said, once these brands have nailed a design, they stick with it. That is something that is important to men, in particular, who hate when a brand abandons its favored pants after a season.

Before he opened Ven. Space in 2024, Mr. Green was an admirer of many of these labels, purchasing them during trips to Japan. As we spoke, he was wearing a pair of Comoli belted jeans that he bought five or so years ago. A similar style is still available.

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Primed for What They Were Pitching

At the close of the 2010s, streetwear was running on fumes. Quiet luxury was entering at stage left. If the Row and Loro Piana were expert at subtle, fine-to-the-touch clothes, so, too, were the likes of T.T, Graphpaper and Yoko Sakamoto.

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“I went from this guy that wears pear-shaped pants to just wearing, like, a denim jacket,” said Chris Maradiaga, a tech worker and freelance writer in Vancouver. His wardrobe today consists of Comoli’s black-as-night trousers and a purple-tinged coat by Ssstein. His kaleidoscopic Bode jackets gather dust.

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Kiichiro Asakawa, designer of Ssstein.

Yuki Sato, designer of Cale.

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Soshi Otsuki, designer of Soshiotsuki.

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That Ssstein clothes have landed in the closets of men on the other side of the world defies the early guidance relayed to Kiichiro Asakawa, the label’s bushy-haired designer. His “senpais,” or mentors, warned him that his reduced designs might leave Western audiences cold. “You need something powerful,” they told him.

He tried, but it wasn’t necessary. It’s the most minimal designs — his cotton gabardine zip-ups, his “easy” pleated trousers — that people are most interested in now. “It actually makes me very happy,” he said through a translator. “My instincts were right.” Mr. Asakawa won the Fashion Prize of Tokyo in 2024.

Adapting to North American Markets (and Men)

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Several Japanese designers noted that they had modified their sizing to accommodate larger, American bodies.

“I’ll ask them, Can you lengthen the pants by three centimeters? Because you need that for the Western market,” Mr. Dilawri of Neighbour said, noting that the designers were receptive to those requests.

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A number of labels, like Comoli and Soshiotsuki, are already oversize. That’s the look.

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Kiichiro Asakawa ran a Tokyo boutique, Carol, before starting Ssstein in 2016. It’s still there. He, too, said he found inspiration in the everyday, for example when watching an elderly couple have dinner across a restaurant.

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There is also the matter of price. On the whole, these clothes are not cheap. See Auralee’s silk bomber jacket, which could be military surplus but feels stolen from a sultan’s palace. It’s roughly $1,700. Ssstein’s9 Carhartt cousin chore jacket with a cowhide collar and a factory-massaged fade? About $1,000. Anyone who has traveled recently in Japan, where the yen is tantalizingly weak, will tell you that these Japanese-made clothes, after being imported, are far pricier in North America.

Yet, as luxury fashion labels continue to price out the aspirational middle-class shopper, many of those same shoppers have convinced themselves that the Japanese labels are a better value. A cashmere coat at Prada is $10,000, and you’ll need $1,690 to own a cotton-blend cardigan from Margiela. Similar pieces from Japanese labels can be half that price, or less.

“Brands like Bottega, Balenciaga, the Row — all that stuff — are so unobtainable,” said Mr. Kirkland, whose clothing budget has shifted to A.Presse. “I will never be in that price bracket,” he added, “but I’m wealthy enough to buy a chore coat for $800.”

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Of course, Mr. Kirkland and all of the fans of these labels could own a chore coat for far less — but then it wouldn’t be “Made in Japan.”

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