When you look back on it now, the period before NEIGHBORHOOD started would make for quite the story. It would be like a prequel.

Yeah, it really would be. Looking back now, I’m surprised we managed to pull it off with so little planning. But at the time, I don’t think we considered it as such. We just had things we wanted to do and looked for ways to make them happen.

At the beginning, it was basically just the thought of “I want this! Let’s make it!” that came before anything else.

Completely DIY. I started out using Print Gocco ※1, but that’s not exactly a tool you use for efficiency. The results changed completely depending on the condition of the ink, and there's a limit to the number of times you can print. I remember working while saying things like, “Today’s print failed,” or “Today’s print isn’t that bad,” as I went.

But first and foremost, the priority was just to make it real.

Exactly. Rather than worrying about perfection, the point was to make it exist first. You can think about why it didn’t go so well later. It’s just like with motorcycles: you don’t really know until you take it for a ride.

At the time, bikes were all I thought about, but at some point we started talking about what to do next.

The real start was in 1994, when we were talking at a PARCO café about starting a clothing store. Did you feel anything special at that moment?/p>

Honestly, not really! (laughs). Rather than a big decision, it just felt like a natural progression. I had had a year with Major Force, and the numbers weren’t bad. When it came to “What’s next?” we just thought, “We have to do it ourselves.” We put in all three million yen we had. There wasn’t much room for failure but strangely, it didn't feel like it was going to end. Like with motorcycles, the feeling was always, “If it doesn’t work, fix it. Then make it again.”

Even when I hear about it again now, it’s amazing to think about how you went all the way to Korea to work on the Major Force products.

That was totally reckless (laughs). I went just because Seki from TAR※2 said, “It’s cheaper if you make it in Korea.” I didn’t even know the name of the manufacturer. I just thought, “If I go to Itaewon, it’ll work out somehow.” And that’s exactly what I did, I took a taxi there and walked around looking for a manufacturer.

Honestly, it’s amazing what you managed to do relying on nothing but instinct.

Definitely. I went around with the printing plates asking, "Can you make this?" I didn't have enough words to make a proper request, and there was no contract either. But I asked for 100 pieces and paid in cash.

Were you worried the whole time after getting back to Japan?

Until the items arrived, yes. The quality wasn’t perfect, but the idea had taken shape for sure.

Afterwards, we found out that they were showing up for sale at street stalls without permission.

That was a shock, but instead of getting mad, I felt more like, “Oh, so that’s the way the world works.” It was a lesson that taught me the rules of business.

Finding the embroidery shop for the first NEIGHBORHOOD MA-1 was basically a continuation of that same experience.

Completely so. I flipped through the phone book and chose based on my intuition. I thought, "This place seems like they'll listen to me." I took the data I’d made on a Mac to an embroidery shop in Meguro to show them what I had in mind. At first, they weren’t completely convinced either.

At first, they wouldn’t accept the request, right? They were saying, “You’re young, and the quantity is too small,” because no one that young had ever come in placing orders like that before, so they didn’t trust you.

Yeah, that’s what happened initially. But once they accept the request once, you can ask them to do it again. I feel like that kind of trust could only be developed in person.

Right, you can get them to hear you out. And buying a Mac, which was really revolutionary at the time, was definitely a big decision too.

Without that, none of this would have even started. The two of us rode a scooter all the way to Akihabara, and brought a CRT monitor back with us. Honestly, it was scary to pay nearly a million yen for one machine on a loan. Almost all of our initial 3 million yen was gone. But without the Mac, we couldn’t do anything. We wouldn’t have been able to design, we wouldn’t have been able to make any plates, and we didn’t have the budget to outsource. So I kept telling myself, “This is an investment in equipment.”

Renting our first office was amazing. It was a small room in an apartment in Harajuku.

It was a tiny space, with us sitting across from each other and the sound of the Mac’s fan constantly running. We’d work late into the night and until we suddenly realised it was morning. There was no one to teach us, so we just had to learn by doing.

Almost entirely self-taught. The desire to just make it real always came first.

At that time, magazines were the whole source of fashion culture, but for brands like ours that were called street fashion, there was a certain “realness” because we wore what we made.

We spent almost nothing on advertising. The response was completely different depending on whether we were featured in a magazine. If we got a full page, the phones and fax would ring off the hook.