weekly Objet library

Supreme traced a social and cultural topography of its brand’s global community, but that community formed exactly because you could only buy Supreme at its Lafayette Street shop in New York. Through its merch, Supreme held this community together across time and geography. It connected people, conversations, and symbols into one Supreme social network.

Coming into communion with an object means forming a relationship together.

The more wear stories, the richer the object.

First of all, there’s something to be said for the Japanese concept of wabi-sabi—embracing authenticity and appreciating things for being unique and imperfect. A rare, well-worn leather jacket from the 1970s is a hell of a lot cooler than a brand new one from a standard label bought at a department store, right?

The Japanese approach to cherishing and maintaining one’s possessions—a concept known as mono wo taisetsu ni (cherish your things)—ensures that vintage luxury pieces are often in excellent condition. This cultural respect for belongings translates into a robust market for vintage luxury, where the condition of items remains paramount.

Objects that expose their “marks of making”, or artifacts of how they were constructed, are a reminder that everything is made. Nothing simply appears. In a time when most people are wholly detached from making anything they consume, it’s easy to lose sight of that fact. I’m not necessarily lamenting this disconnect, but I appreciate any design which reminds us (whether intentionally or not) that it was made.

If Japan truly were a minimalist paradise, why would it need Kondos and Sasakis in the first place?

The world still turns to Japan for things; it also turns to Japan to rid itself of them. There’s only one problem: Japan isn’t anywhere near as tidy as outside observers give it credit for.

Subtractive is contemplative; additive is stimulating. But, above all, the Japanese are master ‘editors’, he says, picking and choosing between polar opposites to suit the occasion. This is why Japanese people continue to remove their shoes indoors, even as they choose to live in Western-style houses. It’s why they continue to distinguish between Japanese-style and Western-style foods, hotels, even toilets. To Matsuoka, the subtractive and additive approaches aren’t inherently in opposition; the distinction is simply a matter of context.

‘Today, the idea that you’ll hold on to a lot of things for your whole life is fading,’ said Tsuzuki. ‘Take clothing. It used to be the case that good clothes cost a lot. You’d buy them and take care of them and wear for years. So you’d naturally build up a collection. But now we’re surrounded by low-cost retailers that are just good enough. You wear it for a season and that’s it.’