Fashion Snoops

Tokyo trend watchers have been hungering for a new subculture ever since the Yamamba last sported an overripe tan in 2004. Finally there is something new and noteworthy. Half a decade later, however, the newest clan to emerge couldn’t be more different from those panda-eyed irreverent teens beloved by street-gawkers and fans of the outrageous. Meet the Mori Girls, a new band of women with a penchant for layers of delicate vintage and DIY fashion. In addition to knitting, journaling, and haunting second hand bookstores, these urban dreamers can be found with their heads in the clouds—or literally in the forest. “Mori” means “forest” in Japanese.

While the Japanese media (and marketers) are fond of giving clever names to new looks, this latest fashion development is self-branded. According to legend, one friend told another that she “looked like she belonged in a forest,” leading to the coining and subsequent cult-age of the “Mori Girls.” Said friend (the one who looked like she came from the woods) founded a community for like-minded women (and men too) on Mixi, Japan’s enormously popular SNS site, in the summer of 2006. While membership to Mixi requires an invitation from an existing member, the communities are self-selecting groups based around a shared interest—with themes that vary from lovers of ketchup to fans of photographing abandoned train stations.

Just shy of three years later, the Mori Girls community is now over 30,000 strong. If the GothLolis have Harajuku, and the aforementioned Yamamba had Shibuya, then these figurative forest dwellers are colonizing an area of cyberspace with profile pages and blogs devoted to their yarui (loose and relaxed) lifestyle. Considering that Mori Girls are, by nature, somewhat loners and prone to solo leisure activities, this online component gives the clan a unique cohesiveness.

So how do you know if you might be one of them? The Mixi community profile page spells out upwards of 60 characteristics of Mori Girldom. Fashion wise, there is an affinity for floaty a-line dresses, an admiration of lace, puff sleeves, and retro prints, a fussiness over natural materials, and a preference for warm, earthy hues and deep traditional colors like navy, wine red, and forest green. Oft-spotted accessories include leather satchels, fur stoles, tights, round-toed shoes, pocket watches, and handmade jewelry.

More than meeting a fashion requirement, however, Mori Girls exude a certain aura of a dreamy slow life. Picture them strolling one of Tokyo’s few remaining bohemian neighborhoods, like Shimokitazawa or Koenji, analog SLR camera in hand. Or scribbling in a leather-bound journal from the corner of a café where none of the teacups match (but are served as a matter of course on saucers). It is likely that a number of them can make macaroons from scratch.

While hardly aggressively counter-culture (appearing instead almost limply indifferent), Mori Girls do posses a certain against-the-grain quality. They make their style choices based on the “atmosphere” of an item, as opposed to its trendiness or brand name value. Consequently they shun conventional fashion magazines and mass-produced items in favor of handmade, original pieces. Quirkiness is important. Age is not. There is nothing in the creed that singles out youth or a particular generational experience. And unlike teenage fashion cults like the Shibuya gyaru (who see many members “graduate”), there is nothing about being a Mori Girl that rebels against growing up.