Lifestyle
Tarot is everywhere. But her fresh decks are 'a little less caftan, a little more rock 'n' roll'
It’s the first Sunday morning of spring in the Wilshire-Montana neighborhood of Santa Monica and local artist Kim Krans, 43, is making the 10-minute pilgrimage from her apartment to her new favorite place on Earth: the Gloveworx boxing gym at 14th Street and Wilshire Boulevard (which has since moved a half-mile west). “There’s a community here that I just adore,” she says while walking in, wearing an oversized black hoodie and retro fire-red Jordans. Her voice is as soft and calm as it is commanding. She speaks a little like singer and poet Leonard Cohen used to: Each phrase rolls out like a careful mantra, a spell.
Krans can be found at Gloveworx nearly every day of the week, doing mitt work with trainers or going ham on a speed bag. This morning, pacing the floor with swagger as hip-hop blares, Krans looks like the frontwoman of a punk band: She’s tattooed and pixie-like, sporting a ripped muscle tank and a white-blond bowl cut that’s soon stringy with sweat, forming a shield for her ice-blue eyes. Her trainer, Gloveworx owner Leyon Azubuike, 37, is a former heavyweight competitor who has worked with stars like Jennifer Aniston and Cam Newton. He said he trains Krans like a “pro athlete.”
“She’s got the savage and serene.”
— Gloveworx owner Leyon Azubuike
When she first started coming in a year ago, Azubuike remembered thinking: “Oh, yeah. This is my person right here.” He sees boxing as an intensive “mental, physical and even spiritual” practice — and thinks Krans, a longtime student of various other artistic and yogic schools, was primed for it. “She’s got the savage and serene,” he said.
Beyond the boxing ring, Krans is better known as the creative powerhouse behind some of the most influential spiritual art of her generation: a series of tarot-style card decks, under the brand name the Wild Unknown (after the Bob Dylan lyric “wild unknown country”), that have sold more than 1.5 million copies in the U.S. over the last 12 years, according to her own records and those of her publishing company, HarperCollins. Those numbers don’t include all the decks that Harper allows overseas publishers to print and sell internationally in more than 50 countries — where Krans’ work has been translated into seven foreign languages.
Kim Krans shuffles tarot cards in her home.
(Annie Noelker / For The Times)
The first of Krans’ decks, her spin on the iconic Rider-Waite tarot deck of the early 1900s, hit the New York Times bestseller list in 2016. She has since created three sister decks — odes to the animal kingdom and the psychological concepts of “archetypes” and “alchemy,” respectively, deviating from the traditional tarot system and using other symbols as touchpoints for oracle-reading.
Krans now holds four of the top 15 spots on Amazon for bestselling tarot and oracle decks, in a field that has exploded since she entered the market just over a decade ago. This Michigan-born farm girl with classical training as a draftswoman and yogi has become an accidental titan within a larger global tarot and oracle card industry that peaked at a value of around $1.3 billion in 2023 and is expected to keep growing, according to recent market reports released by firms like Verified Market Research.
Tarot card reading, which began as a medieval Italian game and was for many centuries relegated to shadowy psychics’ dens and occult shops, has become a common tool for self-discovery — a ubiquitous part of the ballooning self-care and personal-growth movement, available at book, gift and grocery stores everywhere. The catchy words and images in Krans’ decks, in particular, have brought the practice alive for new generations as a fun, easy way to navigate one’s inner world. Now, after years as an icon of modern tarot, Krans has built a fandom that’s primed to follow her out of the bookstore and into ever-more-abstract realms of spiritual art.
The tarot boom
Old-school tarot decks like Rider-Waite have seen sales increase exponentially over the last decade, according to the deck’s publisher, U.S. Games Systems. Meanwhile, in that time, thousands more spinoff oracle decks like Krans’ have been published across the world, according to Jessica Hundley, 53, a Highland Park writer and editor who created Taschen’s “The Library of Esoterica” coffee-table book on tarot.
“It’s an esoteric renaissance for sure — a ‘new witch wave,’ so to speak,” Hundley said. “As people leave traditional religious structures, they are using different tools and resources to connect to spirit and to self.”
(Annie Noelker / For The Times)
The desire for spiritual discovery paired with the isolation of the pandemic created the perfect alchemy for a tarot boom. Alison Crowley, a spokeswoman for the publisher behind Rider-Waite and other popular tarot decks, said the start of the pandemic in early 2020 took the industry to another level, kicking off a “great uptick” in deck sales that has persisted for years now.
“People were discovering tarot as a self-inquiry tool, and not just this old-school thing to keep in the closet or not talk about,” she said. “It started to come into the mainstream.”
Within this booming ecosystem, Krans is the unlikely cover girl of 21st century fortune-telling. Barnes & Noble stocks her decks at most of its 600-plus U.S. locations and reports selling thousands of copies per year. Oregon chain Powell’s Books reports them to be “top sellers” that have “stood the test of time” compared with most of the other oracle options on the shelf. House of Intuition too — one of L.A.’s most popular spiritual gift shop chains, with nine locations across SoCal and Miami — carries the full Wild Unknown collection by popular demand, and it has become “quite a staple,” per a spokesperson.
[The Wild Unknown Tarot] has a great kind of witchy darkness to it that I think is missing from a lot of the new-age, more unicorn-and-rainbow decks. It feels … a little less caftan, a little more rock ‘n’ roll.
— Jessica Hundley, author of “Library of Esoterica”
Her tarot and oracle art has inspired legions of social-media tributes — at least 100,000, of the posts that are tagged on Instagram. Dozens of them show her art inked permanently onto fans’ skin.
“The first time that I saw a tattoo on Instagram, I had an out-of-body experience where I could see the trajectory of the deck,” said the artist, speaking to The Times from her black-and-gold sanctuary of a workspace, carved into the corner of her sunny, second-floor apartment.
Memorabilia in Kim Krans’ Santa Monica apartment.
(Annie Noelker / For The Times)
Behind her is a row of copper urns with mystery objects inside (an old art project) and a bejeweled Mother Mary portrait she salvaged from a barn in rural Pennsylvania. Stacks and scrolls of Krans’ paintings and word art, many of them odes to the planets, are stuffed into every cranny of the office. Yet the only Wild Unknown deck on her bookshelf is the very first she printed — her “OG deck,” as she calls it, its box now lathered in black paint.
“I knew that someday it would be on Amazon, that someday it would be in multiple languages,” she said about that original deck. “And I knew that my job was to be its guardian.”
Art kid hits big
Krans’ fresh take on the tarot in 2012 launched a “new era” for the ancient art form, per tarot expert Hundley. Hundreds of other artists soon followed suit, emboldened by growing demand and the democratization of digital printing.
But the Krans aesthetic is unique for its rebellion against the typical perky, pastel look often used on yoga mats and reusable water bottles — even though her work can be spotted on the shelves and shrines of influencers across the wellness industry.
The Wild Unknown Tarot is “very punk and goth in some ways,” Hundley said. “It has a great kind of witchy darkness to it that I think is missing from a lot of the new-age, more unicorn-and-rainbow decks. It feels … a little less caftan, a little more rock ‘n’ roll.”
(Annie Noelker / For The Times)
Before she became the face of nouveau tarot, Krans spent years studying and creating visual art in Manhattan in the 2000s — then played music with the upstate indie band Family Band, opening for acts like Warpaint alongside her then-husband Jonny Ollsin, a heavy-metal guitarist. By 2012, broke and disenchanted with the New York scene, Krans moved into a renovated church in Philadelphia. She was craving something more, artistically and spiritually, and was drawn to the centuries-old tradition of tarot.
But Krans couldn’t quite connect to the major deck on the market, the Rider-Waite set from the turn of the 20th century. She decided to reimagine the harsh, human images in the traditional deck (think kings, queens and swords sticking out of bodies) as scratchy line drawings of plants, animals and other earthy symbols under moody skies, lit with pops of rainbow paint — her now-signature style. Krans said she used a $5,000 loan to print 1,000 copies on a local press.
“You’ll find no wrongs or rights inside this box, only mirrors for reflection,” she etched in loopy cursive inside the lid. “Open your mind, draw a card & have fun on your journey.”
The deck included a guidebook with simple instructions on how to do a handful of classic tarot readings — plus a page for each card, explaining in plain language what it might say about the psyche and reality of the person drawing it. Pull the dreaded “Death” card, and one was met with compassion, in the voice of a friend. This time she wrote her messages in a childlike sans serif that a designer friend of the artist later turned into a custom font, for more efficient printing. They called it “Krans Sans.”
Almost immediately, in the fall of 2012, Krans said a scout from the bohemian boutique Free People — a subset of the multibillion-dollar hipster emporium Urban Outfitters — reached out to her and placed an order for 100 units. Trendy NYC boutiques like Catbird starting stocking them that year too. “The deck appeared on New York Magazine’s ‘approval matrix’ and momentum snowballed,” Krans said.
By the following year, she said “it was just a matter of trying to keep them in stock.” In 2014, Krans moved to Topanga Canyon in L.A. — a period she calls her “botched Malibu dream” — and became a “highly pressurized kind of workaholic,” deep in the practice of self-publishing. By the time Krans handed off her tarot deck to HarperCollins in 2016, she said she had already moved a quarter million decks on her own, largely through 200-plus “specialty market stores” across the globe and the Urban Outfitters machine.
Around the same time, Wild Unknown Tarot hit the New York Times bestseller list — and, in the process, a businesswoman was born.
Commercial rebellion
Krans was initially embarrassed by this level of mainstream success. But as she began to see her decks’ impact on young fans, the burgeoning business owner, in her words, got “so psyched.” One of her mantras during the early days became something she’d heard Kurt Cobain say, early on in his success: That he wanted his CDs in Walmart, despite it being a corporate behemoth, because that’s the only place some kids could access his music. She began to see her commercial sales as a form of rebellion. She said in a recent podcast interview that she’d remind herself to “just be more like Kurt Cobain. F— the machine.”
It follows then that Krans has done for the shadowy world of tarot what Nirvana did for the underground punk scene: make a dense art form relatable enough to bring its spirit alive for the masses.
(Annie Noelker / For The Times)
Her tarot “spoke to young people in a different way,” said Crowley of U.S. Games Systems. “She had her own voice. The other thing was that young people were just ready to come in. It was the right timing.”
A 2016 Buzzfeed article rounded up Tumblr posts from superfans who had inked Krans art onto their bodies. Many of them said that although her deck was often their first encounter with tarot, they felt immediately comfortable playing with it.
“I could not believe the response to it,” Krans said. “I was thinking, ‘Well, yeah, tarot is powerful. But what is going on here? Why is it speaking to people so universally, and so deeply and immediately?‘”
Krans developed a theory about the popularity of that first deck. Although she had modernized the depiction of tarot’s “archetypes” — or patterns that live in the human psyche and serve as a filter for reality — those ancient patterns remain as powerful as ever.
The 22 main archetypes within the tarot are called the major arcana (think characters like “The Magician” or “The Star”). And, per Hundley, each one is “contained within all humans and expressed through our emotions.” The 56 minor arcana cards — which mirror the pattern of common playing cards — represent “daily challenges and opportunities.” Together, she said the cards form a map of the “various influences and energies at play in our lives.”
By giving these archetypes the shape of animals, like “The Fool” as a duckling teetering on a twig, “The High Priestess” as a regal white tiger or “Justice” as two house cats — as opposed to the human characters of the classic Rider-Waite deck — Krans said she noticed her cards were helping people “get into the archetypes in a more universal, intuitive way.”
Honed by data
This intuition birthed a 2016 follow-up project that would become one of Krans’ top sellers: Animal Spirit, the second oracle deck of the now-four-part Wild Unknown series. Its box was cloaked in shimmering, hand-drawn reptile scales. A yellow dragon’s eye stared out from the center. Each animal in the guidebook came with a quick list of its light and dark qualities, plus some tips from Krans on how to play off their archetypal traits for better living. If you’re dealing with out-of-balance Bat energy like “refusing to let go,” for instance, you could “watch the sunrise.”
To find the right words and images for the deck, those which would be “most useful for people at this time,” Krans said she held multiple rounds of focus groups — a process she repeated for the two decks that followed. “I would have people over to the studio, and I would record their response to looking at the cards,” she said. “I was collecting data.”
Krans sees business instincts like these as her “Saturn energy” — a structured, disciplined side that stems from her blue-collar upbringing as the daughter of a truck driver and an elementary-school secretary in Skandia, a tiny Scandinavian farm town in the rugged Upper Peninsula of Michigan.
“A big priority for me is to stay really practical,” Krans said. “Everyone in L.A. wants to diss Saturn. It’s a conspiracy against Saturn. I’m like, first of all, you guys are crazy. Second of all, try to get a book done without some discipline.” She paused, then continued: “You have to have that side, as a creative and as a seeker, that is like, ‘OK, let’s hone it.’”
Everyone in L.A. wants to diss Saturn. It’s a conspiracy against Saturn. I’m like, first of all, you guys are crazy. Second of all, try to get a book done without some discipline
— Kim Krans, creator of the Wild Unknown oracle deck series
These days, the cards of Animal Spirit can be spotted in still lifes and spiritual flexes all over social media. This past holiday season, actor Jessica Biel shared a snapshot of two cards from the deck, Buffalo and Swan, with her 14 million Instagram followers. “More of this in 2024,” she wrote.
Much like the Wild Unknown Tarot deck, Animal Spirit began with a self-published release of 50,000 decks, Krans said. HarperCollins snatched that one up, too, and rereleased it in 2018, during a short stint when Krans was living in Venice Beach, newly divorced and “trying to be a single surfer and dancing.” Krans said that come 2021, Animal Spirit was neck-and-neck for sales with her original tarot deck for the first time — a trend that held in 2022 and 2023. Total sales are now approaching half a million, according to her records and HarperCollins’.
Once Animal Spirit was in the world, Krans kept creating. She knew there was more to learn about why her tarot and animal cards were flying off the shelves. So she enrolled in the Pacifica Graduate Institute (just south of Santa Barbara) and entered into formal study of “depth psychology and creativity” through the lens of Swiss psychologist Carl Jung.
“That’s when I found that, if tarot is a car that you’re riding in, archetypes are the engine,” Krans said.
Weirder and wilder
Just like that, a third Wild Unknown deck was born, the one she now considers the “mother” of the series: Archetypes, released by Harper in 2019. Its 78 circle-shaped cards expanded on the 12 archetypes outlined by Jung over the course of his career, as well as the 22 in the tarot tradition, to include places like “The River,” characters like “The Siren” and “initiations” like “Apocalypsis.” The deck’s whopping 223-guidebook included a full personal and historical rundown of the concept of archetypes, which by now had Krans obsessed.
In place of offering life advice like she did in her previous deck, she urged readers to explore art like Bruce Nauman’s neon sign “The True Artist Helps the World by Revealing Mystic Truths.”
Kim Krans
(Annie Noelker / For The Times)
Web searches for the word “archetype” have been steadily rising in the United States since Google began tracking search trends around two decades ago, and appeared to reach an all-time high last summer. (Thanks in part to the word’s increased usage in pop culture and online conversation.)
Meanwhile, sales for Krans’ once-obscure Archetypes deck began to climb in 2023, according to numbers provided to the artist by her publisher, HarperCollins. The company also pushed a miniature “pocket” version of Archetypes in early April, as it had done for the tarot and animal decks in previous years . It feels like an indication, Krans said in a recent Instagram live, that “the concept of archetypes is starting to get mainstream.” In the video, she showed off the tiny new cards to followers, delighted: “You could bring this to Coachella. You’re like, ‘I have my phone, I have gum and I have Archetypes.’”
In 2022, Krans released the final and so-far least popular oracle deck in the Wild Unknown series, which she calls “the freaky one”: Alchemy. It drew on another of Jung’s central theories about the way the mind works, and served as the culmination of Krans’ own exploration of the Swiss psychoanalyst’s school of thought. The 71-card, 231-page Alchemy deck is a clear COVID project — a swirling study of the materials, both visible and invisible, that power our world, and how they might be better understood or even manipulated to serve.
It was the end product of “seven, eight years of drawing decks, and a lot of self-inquiry and scholarly pursuit of like, ‘What is this? What are these personal forces?’” Krans said. In her metaphor where tarot is a car and archetypes are its engine, she now thinks of the elements of alchemy as the engine’s fuel.
An industry skeptic
In recent months, the inadvertent queen of tarot has been shape-shifting through more iterations of artistry and identity. “I’m now entering Act 2,” she said, post-workout on her Santa Monica stoop.
Much of this new era involves movement, performance and sound. Krans leads occasional yoga nidra sessions at the kundalini-focused Ra Ma Institute on the Westside, where she guides followers into the same “slippery, lucid state” that births her own creations. She also returned to music this year with the hypnotic, harmonium-heavy album “Mirror Mirror” — picking up where she left off in the early 2010s. The album is filled with mantras and other sonic tools she uses in her own spiritual practice as a way to induce trance and lead people into the dreamworld.
“Drawing, although it’s like my home base, it’s not enough,” Krans said in a podcast interview. “I need the sound. I need the scale of the drawing to be able to grow and expand.”
Kim Krans new board game, “Renunciation.”
(Simone Wilson)
Last fall, Krans also released a mandala-shaped board game called Renunciation after studying game design for more than a year with a group at New York University. The game pieces are archetypal characters like “pop star” and “school principal”; the setbacks, attachments like coffee and hairdos; the course, a trail to a Himalayan cave; the goal, enlightenment.
To win, players must rid themselves of all attachments and, eventually, their name and identity. Meanwhile, “you’re backstabbing all your enlightenment-seeking opponents on the way to enlightenment,” Krans explained — a riff on competitive spirituality. “So L.A.,” she said.
Recently, Krans has turned to comedy as an outlet for her disillusionment with the wellness industry, which she feels can get “so freaking serious” — and in many ways stay surface level — about things like personal growth, astrology (“people use it to evade so much stuff”) and reaching higher states of consciousness. She said she’s celebrating a resurgence of the “prankster and performer” in her, a side she said was shut down during her time both in art school and the new-age wellness industry. In May, she’ll poke fun at the scene with an “interstellar” stand-up show at the Culver City Comedy Club, under the stage name Kimmy K — a nickname given to her by her boxing coach.
“I feel like in some ways, there’s nowhere left to go but comedy,” she said.
Kim Krans
(Annie Noelker / For The Times)
During an L.A. Times photo shoot in her Santa Monica home, the artist — dressed in bright-blue sweatpants and stilettos — practiced some material, adopting the role of a TV psychic by play-hosting a “tarot dial-in” during which she took fake calls on a shiny red telephone.
One of the bits she’s been chewing on is called “leave your oracle alone.” It’s about “not doing a tarot reading when you already know the answer to the question,” she said. “Like, if you know the guy is a douchebag … if everyone in the room could answer but you … leave the oracle alone.”
Watching her play, humor starts to feel like an end stage of study for the punky L.A. yogi who made her abstract, Carl Jung-inspired art — the weirdest stuff on the shelf at Urban Outfitters — just accessible enough, at just the right moment, to infiltrate popular culture and give spiritual dabblers a doorway to follow her deeper down the spiral of the psyche.
Lifestyle
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.
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.”
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.”
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.
“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.”
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.”
Lifestyle
The New Rules for Negotiating With Multibrand Retailers
Lifestyle
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.
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.
“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.
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.
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.
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.
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.”
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.
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.
5
The Cale designer Yuki Sato travels throughout Japan to find textiles. Unusually, the company manufactures everything, including leather and denim, in one factory.
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.
6
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.
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.
“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
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.
7
Recently reintroduced as Number(N)ine by Takahiro Miyashita.
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.
8
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.
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.
“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.
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.
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.
“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.
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)
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.
A number of labels, like Comoli and Soshiotsuki, are already oversize. That’s the look.
9
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.
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.”
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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