Like many fashion writers, my path—both as a career and my personal relationship with fashion—was charted by various influences. Among them, Poggy stood out. A fashion curator, buyer, and a huge vintage fashion figure, he was not just a fixture at fashion events, but also a cult-favourite collaborator—his recent cross-industry partnership with Porsche was monumental.
The Japanese street fashion scene has long been a thrilling force, fundamentally shaping how we connect with clothing. These styles often serve as the foundation of a subculture—or sometimes, a subculture in itself—branching outward from one to another. Japan, particularly Tokyo, is an incubator of sartorial identity—from the uniformed “black crows” to the eclectic soul of Harajuku. This vibrant culture has affirmed the “Made in Japan” label as a seal of top-notch quality, durability, and innovative design.
In an era where fashion is often reduced to trends, true style—lasting preferences that eventually become one’s visual autobiography—feels like a rare gem. It is a profound relief, then, to find the Japanese street scene remaining a thriving oasis for this very ideal. And Motofumi “Poggy” Kogi is one of the key figures who helped to sustain this phenomenon. To him, style lies in the willingness to accept failures—in his words, “a chance to explore”. When asked about fashion remorse, the tastemaker chuckled and confessed that he is no stranger to this feeling. “I’ve always loved the kind of chemistry that comes from experimenting with new combinations, so I’ve made plenty of mistakes—I still mess up sometimes even now,” he told us.
Meeting Poggy for the first time, after years of knowing him only through a screen, felt less like an introduction and more like a reunion. My gaze was immediately drawn to the tiered watch fob gracing his jacket lapel—a silver accessory from the exclusive collaboration between Carhartt WIP and Poggy for his new book. “It’s a reiteration of a Carhartt watch fob from the 1910s, a vintage trinket Poggy holds very dear,” shared a staff member from the brand. Though a functional piece from a century past, it felt completely of the moment on him, not a relic out of place.
In fact, from the watch fob to the Dear Boro’s—Poggy’s own brand—Sashiko jacket, every element he wore was a perfect articulation of the persona I had come to know online. These were not mere garments, but the components of an unmistakable signature, the “Poggy Style.” Flipping through his book, the Poggy Style: Dressing for Work and Play, the fashion feature written by W. David Marx and interviews with figures like Jun Takahashi are deeply informative, even for a novice. Yet above all, it remains true to its title—a testament to a style that belongs to him, and him alone.
As Rizzoli Publications described in the book introduction, this volume is a guide to balance between the hare—clothing for occasion—with the ke—the art of the everyday. It serves as a compass for an intentional wardrobe that is built upon insights from experts, all filtered through Poggy’s vision.
Let’s talk a bit about the book. Can you introduce it to us?
Before I became a fashion curator, I worked as a buyer at a select store called United Arrows for 22 years. I’ve come across many clothes, from street fashion to suits and what we call mode fashion—a style that commonly highlights genderless garments and is predominantly black in colour. I’ve worked with various types of clothing, and I always wonder how one can express oneself through clothes. The book is a compilation of what I gathered—ideas on how to express your individuality through clothing. It might not resonate with everyone, but I do think it serves as an inspiration that will come in handy in discovering your own sense of style.
1990s fashion is a prominent theme in the book. What is one thing from the 1990s that you wish to revive in 2025?
One of the authors featured in the book, W. David Marx, mentioned this: the 1990s is a counterculture of the 1980s, an antidote to the consumerism that was the dominating culture at the time. As a teenager in the 1990s, I went through the grunge movement with artists like Nirvana and Kurt Cobain. I also enjoyed rock musicians like the Vaselines or the Japanese band, Shonen Knife. These were creative works that were lesser known at that time, and even if they are not mainstream aesthetics, it’s not unusual for people to belt out their admiration for these subcultures. In this era, however, something that “no one knows” is an equivalent of something that is not selling or doing well in numbers—it’s perceived negatively. I still think that as long as it is something that you are interested in, it’s beautiful. I think we should revive this mindset.
How would you define the “Poggy Style”?
Style is about the choices you make over and over—like what you wear when you go out, what you wear when you eat somewhere, what you wear when you drive a certain car. Whether you’re in a suit or just a T-shirt, true style is what naturally seeps out from the individual. Fashion, on the other hand, is the opposite, it’s about enjoying trends that change every six months. Fashion is something you can buy with money, and style is something that takes time to build. For me, now that I’ve finally published this book, I feel like I’ve reached a stage where my own ‘Poggy style’ has started to take shape.
As a collector, what is a precious collection you have?
Well, in Japan, there are always people with better taste, so it’s not really something I can proudly brag about. But I really like vintage Carhartt, and vintage anime T-shirts too—though at my age, they’re kind of hard to wear on their own. Still, if I layer one under something like a cashmere knit, I can enjoy it in that way, and that’s how I like to wear them now.
Do you have any fashion regrets?
Oh, absolutely. Tons of them. Most people don’t want to make mistakes, so they stick to basics or keep wearing what they know looks good on them. But I’ve always loved the kind of chemistry that comes from experimenting with new combinations, so I’ve made plenty of mistakes—I still mess up sometimes even now. But I think it’s those “failures” that can actually give me a chance to explore. That’s why I encourage people not to be afraid of mistakes and to try on all kinds of clothes.
Are there any underground artists or talents that you have on your radar?
Yes, there are. I used to be a judge for the Tokyo Fashion Award, and now I’m one for the Fashion Prize of Tokyo. In Tokyo and across Japan, there are many brands that have been active for around 10 years, but still remain largely unknown overseas.
An artist named Ryota Daimon, for instance. He’s an artist and has been gaining recognition abroad, but he’s still not widely known. There’s also Tattoo Studio Yamada, which is really popular among younger people in Japan. Their work is largely influenced by American tattoo, and I think these are the people who help shape the next era. It’s really exciting to see that the younger generation is emerging.
For people who wish to know more about Japanese underground culture, Sabukaru is a platform that you should check out.
Do you have any new designers or creatives in the fashion scene that you would like to work with in the future?
There are a lot of interesting young people out there, but an artist—though he is not particularly young—I really have my eyes on is Takejirō Hasegawa. He comes from a lineage of craftsmen who once worked as swordsmiths—specifically Japanese sword mountings—for the Owari Tokugawa family, and now he creates silver tea utensils. The rings he makes are also incredibly cool, though surprisingly, most young people in Japan don’t know about him at all. But he has such deep history, tradition, and skill, and I’d love to see something new and exciting come out of collaborations with masters like him.
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