season 04 "atom"

In our previous collection, "x," we explored the theme of societal "apathy" born from an amplification of unnecessary interests—a sentiment sparked by James Blake’s track Like the End. In an era where ambiguous information spreads with prioritized speed, we used "x" as a symbol of unassured variables. We rendered the shifting outlines of truth in shades of gray and expressed omens of the yet-to-come in blue.

This season’s collection, "atom," does not seek to provide an answer to clear that fog. Instead, it is an attempt to shift our perspective toward the "individual"—the smallest possible unit—in order to remain anchored in hope while still within the mist.

The turning point was unexpectedly hearing Tatsuro Yamashita’s Children of Atom last summer. It possessed a primitive power that bypassed my lingering anxieties, igniting a sense of "body heat" before the mind could process it. It was a sensation akin to a "pleasant bug" in the system; the realization that self-affirmation is a viable choice, known by the body before the intellect. Here, "atom" serves as a metaphor for the "indivisible"—the irreducible core that cannot be dismantled, no matter how the outside world attempts to deconstruct the individual. Hope, in this context, is not a word that guarantees the world will brighten; it is defined as the quiet, deliberate choice to affirm one’s own existence here and now.


Photographed in Paris by Daisuke Tanabe

The philosophical backbone of this collection is the existentialism presented in the film Blade Runner 2049. Just as the protagonist K establishes his own existence (his soul) through his own choices—even upon discovering he lacks a "special essence"—we, too, define ourselves by our own hand. Even if the world sinks into a monochrome gray, the quiet resolve to affirm this very moment is what defines "hope" in this collection.

Costume designer Renée April noted that Blade Runner 2049 was "not a fashionable movie." She designed garments according to the world's humidity, pollution, and harshness, deliberately stripping away unnecessary "edginess." Furthermore, K survives throughout the film in essentially the same attire. Reflecting the fact that multiple identical coats were prepared for filming, the costume was designed not as decoration, but as a "uniform" to withstand the environment. I sought to apply this ethos to this season's collection.

To expand upon the vision of clothing as a "protective device," I looked toward the lineage of uniforms refined to shield the body from travel and the elements. The history of D. Lewis (now Lewis Leathers), which began as a London tailor in 1892 and later produced "Aviakit" aviation gear, represents a process where the role of clothing expanded from "attire" to "protection (shelter)." Just as RAF (Royal Air Force) pilots during WWII sought out this gear privately for their own survival, clothing becomes the smallest possible shelter in extreme conditions. Based on this research, I drafted the designs for each piece as a form of "exoskeleton."

However, I did not aim to create clothing as mere "machines" for survival. While Le Corbusier pursued rationality with the mantra "a house is a machine for living in," the architect Eileen Gray critiqued this cold mechanism, arguing that design must be a "spiritual refuge" for the soul as much as the body. For her, architecture and textiles were not mere vessels for function, but devices to envelop and expand the psychological satisfaction of the inhabitant.

The starting point for this season’s palette lies in the rug designs of Eileen Gray. I reinterpreted the geometric lines she drew as symbols of "reason," and the warm color schemes flowing beneath them as "emotion." The orderly lines seen in works like Centimetre represent the intellect attempting to organize chaos, while the rich colors and hand-woven textures represent the fundamental human emotions required for living. The blue and gold placed within suppressed tones are not flashes of gaudiness meant to break the darkness, but marks of body heat that remain certain within the silence.

The blue, in particular, is positioned as a coordinate to identify one’s location within a lonely void. I treated this color as a "blue flame" that burns ceaselessly within a frigid world. The silk and cashmere double-face fabric is engineered so that the beige-gold silk—an internal radiance—peeks out from behind the matte texture of the cashmere. Similarly, the beige-gold zipper tapes used throughout are small signals indicating that the internal heat has not been extinguished. Additionally, Kalgan lamb fur subtly blurs the outlines of geometric silhouettes, resonating with baby calf and cashmere to bring a sense of vital fluctuation to the collection.

To always express my maximum output—this is my unchanging stance in creating collections, not just for this season. This season, I returned to that starting point, exhausting every ounce of wisdom and technique. Casting aside the thought of a "next time," I believe that pouring all my energy into the "now" is what leads to the golden sunrise.

Nothing Gold Can Stay
Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.

— Robert Frost