The girls' fashion was intense

girl with enigmatic sign beside her lips — Girl with a striking mouth

While walking through Harajuku, I noticed a woman who stood out strikingly among a crowd of girls moving in clusters. Her outfit was far too edgy to be called “Lolita,” and yet calling it punk fashion didn’t seem quite right either. If there exists such a thing as the unclassifiable, she was its very embodiment. A white lens covered her left eye, erasing the pupil entirely. She must have seen little through it, and yet her gaze was unnervingly intense. When her clouded eye met mine, it felt as though she were peering straight into my soul.

At the corner of her lips was a black pattern shaped like a sun. I couldn’t tell what it meant—perhaps it was a kind of spell, cast in the name of self-expression. In Harajuku, everyone seems to be chanting their own spell through fashion. Clothing, after all, is a form of self-defense, a mask that distinguishes oneself from others. Even the powdered faces of seventeenth-century European nobles were a kind of social armor, worn in place of steel. Seen in that light, this woman’s attire was no less a battle uniform—an aesthetic shield forged in rebellion and individuality.

Harajuku on Google Map

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