Beyond being merely “〇〇-like.”

 

Looking at each garment,

“This garment feels 〇〇-like.”
“This garment feels very 〇〇-esque.”

Are there moments when you feel that way?

 

Hello.

I’m Tomioka from cliché.

 

when we look at clothing, we unconsciously apply some kind of words to it—including its color, shape, and material, and even the person wearing it.

As we compare it with what we have seen and worn up to that point,

“This is the kind of garment it is.”

I think that is the judgment we make.

Of course, there is nothing inherently good or bad about that.

However, I feel that these preconceptions of something being “〇〇-like” or “〇〇-esque” can sometimes become a shackle of our own making.

“It doesn’t feel like me, so I won’t wear it.”

“It isn’t masculine, so I won’t choose it.”

“It feels feminine, so it has nothing to do with me.”

By attaching words first in this way, we distance ourselves from a garment before we can see the appeal that is truly there.

Of course, I am the same.

 

Whenever we look at clothing, words like “〇〇-like” or “〇〇-esque” naturally come to mind.

Those preconceptions are not easy to cast aside.

However, there are garments that cannot be fully captured by the first words that come to mind.

 

This Feather Lace Blouson was one such piece.

<cantáte>

"Feather Lace Blouson"

COL : NAVY

¥242,000 TAX IN

 

The first thing that catches your eye is, naturally, the lace.

The blouson itself may be a familiar form, but simply changing the material used can alter its impression this dramatically.

It is a 100% cotton chemical lace featuring a feather motif.

Embroidery is applied to cotton cloth, after which the base fabric is dissolved through chemical treatment, leaving only the embroidery to complete the piece.

Today, it is common to use a base woven from water-soluble yarn, but in principle, the construction is less about drawing a pattern onto fabric than leaving the pattern itself behind as the fabric.

Matsushima-san wrote the following about this lace on Instagram.

“It is precisely because of this relief that, despite being lace, it does not become sweet and works properly as menswear.

if this were made with a lustrous yarn like rayon, if the embroidery lacked dimensionality, or worse, if it featured a floral pattern, it would be beyond saving.”

This may be putting it rather strongly, but

When you see this blouson in person, what I mean immediately becomes clear.

The feather embroidery has substantial thickness, with raised, uneven details that make each feather seem to float above the surface.

Despite being lace, it does not look delicate.

If anything, the surface even has a certain strength to it.

I think it is precisely this dimensionality that allows lace to be used without leaning into sweetness, so that it naturally reads as menswear.

 

With lace, there are places where the fabric is present and places where it is not.

Rather than simply looking at the pattern itself, the garment works as a complete piece precisely because it includes what can be seen through the gaps in the pattern.

With an ordinary blouson, we basically see only the surface of the fabric.

But this blouson naturally draws your eyes all the way into what lies beyond its surface.

The color of the garment underneath, your skin, and even the light show through.

Rather than being a garment that stands on its own, it is a garment whose character changes depending on what you place beneath it.

By the way, I like lace.

This is an undeniable fact.

Even when choosing socks, I often go for lace ones.

At that point, feelings such as “masculine” or “feminine” no longer matter much to me.

Quite simply, I find the lace material itself appealing and want to incorporate it into my own wardrobe.

In men’s style, I don’t particularly like wearing it in a way that leaves a rugged, textured expanse of skin exposed.

But I like having a single layer of fabric over the skin, with just a little skin showing through the gaps.

It’s not that I want everything to be visible.

It’s hidden, yet visible.

That much is just right.

I believe there is a sensuality that emerges only when the fabric itself overlaps with the skin beyond it.

Perhaps what I like isn’t only the lace pattern itself, but this way of seeing it.

It’s fabric meant to conceal, yet it has openings.

It isn’t clothing designed to reveal the skin, yet the skin is visible as a result.

Contradictory elements coexist within a single piece of fabric.

That may be why I like lace.

And what makes wearing lace clothing interesting is deciding what to wear underneath.

Because of the openings, the garment worn underneath is highly visible.

Of course, you could also introduce a completely different color and make the feather pattern stand out clearly.

Still, I like layering similar colors.

When you place a color close to that of the blouson underneath, the boundary between the lace and inner layer becomes slightly blurred.

From a distance, it looks like a single color.

But when you get closer, a slightly different navy peeks through the openings in the lace.

Even without increasing the number of colors, it creates depth.

This time, I’d like to pair it with denim in a similar color for the pants.

Think of the blouson, inner layer, and pants broadly within the same color family, and vary only the materials within it.

The way the lace allows light to pass through.

The flat, uniform color of the inner layer.

The unevenness of the denim’s color.

Even without adding more colors, the appearance changes when the materials change.

In fact, I think lace is a material that makes those differences even easier to see.

Even the smallest details express the character of this garment.

Paired with the dark navy lace are pitch-black buffalo horn buttons.

A quiet sheen appears only when it catches the light.

It has a collarless design.

Precisely because the fabric is so distinctive, nothing unnecessary has been added around the collar, keeping it clean and simple.

That decisiveness also suits this blouson perfectly.

The hem and cuffs use a raw-cut finish that preserves the lace’s scalloped edge as it is.

It’s like selvedge denim: the edge of the fabric itself is being used as a design element.

When you see this kind of construction, you can tell that lace isn’t being treated as mere decoration, but is being approached properly as a single piece of fabric.

I think lace will continue to be accompanied by words like “It feels like ___” or “It’s very ___” in my mind.

There’s no need to force those thoughts away.

When I see a piece of clothing for the first time, I’m sure I’ll continue to imagine it by attaching some kind of words to it.

But there’s no need to let things end with those words alone.

Actually look at it, touch it, and try it on.

Think about what to wear underneath and try pairing it with the clothes I already own.

I think learning about things one by one in this way is not only about understanding the clothes; it also builds up my own experience.

Wear a material I’ve never worn.
Try something I would never have chosen before.
Because of that accumulation, the way I judge something the next time I see it gradually changes.

The first thoughts that come to mind—“It feels like ___” or “It’s very ___”—may turn out not to matter so much after all.

Before asking myself, “Is this a piece of clothing that feels like me?”

“I like this.”

You could say that.

You could say that I’ve gained one more bit of experience needed to arrive at those words.

That alone is enough for now.

 

cliché 冨岡