Before We Begin —
In case you’re reading Duchump for the first time, or you’ve been MIA, you can catch up on my latest work — the last three posts are just below:
I’ve also made a new playlist that you can listen to on Spotify and Apple Music. It’s meant for quieter days.
There’s a lot happening behind-the-scenes right now, so there is a reason behind the slowdown of posts recently. Expect a few new interviews this month, along with some longer posts focusing one a single subject, brand, etc.
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Prologue —
There are moments in our lives that happen spontaneously, on the Lord’s dime, and leave you with an entirely changed perspective on things. It could be finding $80,000 on the ground, suddenly getting served with divorce papers, or in my case — purchasing my first Comoli piece from Neighbour. To be clear, I’m not speaking from experience for the other two examples, but this brand did leave my bank account absolutely devastated for a minute.
Some thought I had joined a cult, others thought I was having an ongoing aneurysm as all I could talk about for a few weeks — ok, maybe a few months — was, and still is, Comoli. The thing is, this brand is everything I’ve ever asked for. I did break the bank a few times. The cost per wear? Totally worth it. I’m basically making money now with how often I’m wearing each piece.

Now, you may be wondering what all the hoopla is and why I keep rambling on in almost every article about this one brand, even though the majority of their garments are mostly black. As someone who’s loved Japanese fashion for years now, I can tell you that it hasn’t always been all sunshine and rainbows for individuals with my body type.
Whether it’s self-diagnosed body dysmorphia, or simply waking up on the wrong side of the bed — I’d have days where I wasn’t the biggest fan of my body. Before finding brands like Graphpaper and Comoli, my love for Japanese fashion only added to the internal conflict as sizing wouldn’t always be the most inclusive. You would see massive labels like Comme des Garçons release some of the most beautiful pieces — but I’d be too afraid to try anything on since my inner saboteur would tell me that it would fit like a latex bodysuit on me. Sizing would be inconsistent, uncomfortable, unflattering.
Inevitably you reach a point where you say ‘fuck it,’ and start doing what makes you happy; leaving all that hesitation and negativity behind. As soon as my perspective on things shifted, I discovered Comoli — a brand that’s so lowkey, yet creates some of the most comfortable and well-fitting garments I’ve ever tried on. It was a revelation — a long-awaited moment that changed my wardrobe, my chequing account, and ticked off every box.
I’m here to share my findings with you after many (many) purchases. I’ve reached out for an interview, but they’ve declined the request at this time. Further fuelling the mysterious and elusive lore.
So, until they agree to an interview, you’re stuck here with my thoughts.
Enjoy.
The Comoli Paradox —
Since 2016, when the wave of designer-led labels inspired by legends like Virgil Abloh first took off, we've seen a flood of creators eager to replicate the look, but missing the deeper meaning behind it. Fast forward to 2025, and here I am sitting on my wobbly IKEA stool in my new-ish apartment, still watching new brands pop up almost every other week — most of them lacking any real meaning.
Many of these creators lean on Abloh’s 3% rule — the idea of altering an already existing piece just slightly to make it new. While clever, this often results in something gimmicky, forced, and unnecessary. We don’t need another t-shirt that’s cut in half with mismatched graphics. What’s often left out, and arguably the more important part of Abloh’s whole deal, is the why — the belief that a design should be a form of cultural or societal commentary. It should have a reason to exist now.

This sense of purpose is much more apparent in Japan, where design is deeply rooted in utility and intention: either in daily life, for a particular task, environment, or condition. It’s one of the many reasons why fashion culture in Japan has such deep global respect. These designers don’t chase novelty — they create with meaning. It wasn't until the late 2010s that I finally began exploring fashion beyond the North American landscape — seeing what was really out there.
Comoli, my favourite brand right now, is a prime example of this. Its founder, Komori Keijiro, embodies a very calm and considered philosophy towards fashion. In an interview with Silver Mag, he said “items that were made with a clear purpose remain as heritage items even today.” In his view, intentional design — born from function, context, and clarity — is what gives a piece its lasting value. This, paired with the quality of their garments, is why the number of Comoli converts continues to grow.
Since starting the brand, Keijiro has remained somewhat reclusive, with the number of interviews being scarce. I’ve only ever found one — maybe two — interviews online. They move in silence, with little-to-no marketing. Their lookbooks are simple: real people in real settings wearing real clothes. They do not have an Instagram profile (except for an archive account that’s run by, uh, someone), nor can you place any orders on their website. This is very much an IYKYK label, even if their number of stockists continue to grow YoY. But the question here is — how does this brand, with little-to-no presence online, have such a dedicated following?
To put it simply, Keijiro’s philosophy is to design clothes that are meant for daily life, with a strong focus on quality fabrics and materials to ensure comfortability and versatility. Cashmere, calfskin, washi paper, wool gabardine — the list of thoughtfully selected fabrics goes on, and it’s what attracts their customers. Keijiro shared with Silver Mag how he makes “new fabrics that are close to the worn-out state, without processing them in a second-hand way.” By taking this approach, he creates garments that already feel lived in and worn to the state of comfortability that we all strive to achieve when breaking in a new item. Their silhouettes are typically relaxed, with Keijiro stating that the most important aspect of design is “the feeling of air between the person wearing the clothes and the clothing itself.” After purchasing and wearing — to the damn ground — numerous pieces by the label, Keijiro’s design philosophy can be felt as intended.

All in all, the vision is crystal clear — create clothing that has a reason to exist and serves a purpose, while having it made already in a state of extreme comfort. We rarely see this level of commitment and practicality within the industry, as most designers and labels often seek inspiration for a collection from something less relatable (e.g. films, celebrity style, etc). With Keijiro, he chooses to design by stepping into his Client’s shoes — either by, let’s say, living in conditions relevant to the season he’s designing, or looking at what’s been most utilized in the past by society and creating new variations of it, but tastefully and elegantly, with a modern twist.
Now, to circle back on exactly why this piece is titled Cult From A Different Cloth. Since learning of the label, I’ve heard of individuals that are deeply, deeply tied to it in a Yohji Yamamoto or Comme des Garçons type of way — very cult-like. Names like Comoli Fanatic or Comoli King have been tossed around when visiting Neighbour, or speaking to other enthusiasts like myself. I had to find more people that match my freak to speak to about this.
Edrian, a long-time subscriber and friend of Duchump, shared his experience with the label. “When it comes to feel, there’s nothing quite like it,” he said. “It’s like a warm hug on a cold day or a bowl of chilled soup on a hot summer afternoon — unexpected, but deeply comforting. You can genuinely feel the care and attention to detail in every stitch.” Some of their garments look deceptively simple, but once you’ve had a chance to feel the fabric, or try one of their pieces on, only then you will understand the appeal of Comoli. “To some, it might look like just another simple piece,” he said. “But to me, it feels like a million bucks.”

Rev, a fellow Comolian, shared his thoughts on the label: “Everything is well-designed — from the fabrics to the cut. It’s all meticulously considered and intentional.” The brand’s collection primarily features black, with select pieces in beige and dark navy. While the colour palette is limited, Rev sees purpose in the restraint: “The monotone allows the fabric to speak for itself.” He went on to explain, “The brand operates in a similar way — it doesn’t narrate a story. There are no descriptions about the design or fabric. It’s meant to be discovered by the wearer, whether through repeated wear, research, or conversations with sales associates.”
It’s no wonder most shops carrying the brand — featuring a shortlist in North America like Neighbour, Mohawk General Store, and Ven Space — sell out almost instantly. Some even offer priority lists, so you can be notified once their latest delivery arrives. Comoli also maintains a sort of essentials line — core pieces that return each year with only the subtlest of tweaks. And yet, they still sell. Often to people who already own the previous iteration.
There’s been a update to the label, as they’ve recently introduced their very first women’s collection. Though limited, you can already see their potential, and get a sense of what future collections might look like. I love this move as it continues the world-building Keijiro has done so far: expanding the lore and making it more accessible. The Camel Shaggy Blouson is one of my favourites so far, and it’s currently available at Neighbour. Might cost you a kidney, but it will be worth it. Unless you’re hitting the sauce hard, then maybe not.
All in all, this may come across as a kind of JoHo behaviour — cultish, hive-minded. If the Kingdom Hall was for Komori Keijiro, then you would absolutely see me suited up for church every Sunday, or dishing out copies of Watchtower on street corners: trying to educate the people on Comoli.
Since turning 30, I’ve begun to power down a bit more with my online media consumption. You grow tired of seeing the same things — people picking up the craziest pieces for the sake of views, absurd forms of maximalism, or the number of videos about their runway sweater from x year: speaking in an annoying monotone voice that could be used as psychological torture for PoWs.

I’ve started to slow down with my outfits — leaning into comfort first, and paying attention to fabrics that actually suit me, are more durable, feel good. Basically, I’m still in the fashion rat-race, just jogging at my own pace now. And in that sense, Comoli fits where I’m at. The mindset, the clothes — it all works.
That’s not to say every piece I’ve picked up has been a hit. I’ve had a few misses — but not because they were bad. They just didn’t line up with what I needed right now. The thing is, those pieces still had a purpose. Just not mine.
Not yet.
Thanks for reading!
These are just my thoughts and opinions. Please keep that in mind.
Your support is greatly appreciated as I continue working towards growing this newsletter and slowly turning it into something bigger. The end goal is to turn this into a publication, featuring interviews with individuals in fashion, covering collections and shows, etc. Maybe we can make it to fashion week again - who knows.
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Love ya.
- Chris
“If the Kingdom Hall was for Komori Keijiro, then you would absolutely see me suited up for church every Sunday, or dishing out copies of Watchtower on street corners: trying to educate the people on Comoli.”
Sign me up as well! lmao
really appreciated this. not because it was well-written, though it was. but because it actually made sense. and that’s rare.
there’s something comforting and almost disarming about the way you describe fashion. not as trend. not as content. but as experience. as process. as something that should work.
the part about the body. yeah. that hit hard.
i’ve dealt with weight shifts for as long as i remember. my perception of myself is never stable. depending on the day, i’m either deeply at peace or one slightly awkward fitting room away from a full existential collapse.
and being into fashion while that’s going on in your head? that’s a very specific form of hell.
not feeling excluded because of taste, but because of centimeters. like, i can love a brand with my whole soul and still know it’s not built for me. literally.
comme des garçons is the perfect example. the love is real. it always was.
but nothing ever fit. i’d walk into stores full of hope, and leave feeling like i just tried on someone else’s joke. tight shoulders, tiny sleeves, the whole “avant-garde discomfort” vibe… but unintentionally.
and the worst part is i kept trying. kept hoping this piece would finally be The One. spoiler: it never was.
you either laugh or cry. i did both. at the same time. in a changing room. with no AC.
and that’s kind of the paradox, right? we fall in love with the aesthetic language of a culture that, size-wise, treats us like a mistranslation.
life is pain when you’re not japanese-sized but all your style references are.
that’s why i’ve really come to appreciate the newer wave of japanese brands who are quietly adjusting. i heard ssstein is changing their sizing next season. part of me is skeptical. part of me is ready to sell a kidney. time will tell.
as for comoli. i’m deep in it. don’t own a single thing. but i’ve zoomed in on more grainy showroom images than i care to admit.
i’ve read every interview, saved every poorly lit fit pic, tried to reverse engineer the cut of a coat from a blurry shoulder seam.
but i’ve made a rule. i only buy in person now. i need to try things on. feel them. see how they move, how they sit, what they do.
yes, it makes shopping nearly impossible. but it keeps me from lying to myself. and honestly, there’s something romantic about waiting.
thankfully i’ve got one solid place in warsaw that stocks yoko sakamoto. and every time i go there, it reminds me that fashion can still be about quiet joy. about restraint. about care.
not everything needs to scream. not everything needs to be clever. sometimes the best things are the ones that don’t try too hard to prove they’re good.
and that’s why this piece stuck with me. because you didn’t perform reverence. you actually feel it. and that’s rare.
most people talk about “quality” and “intention” like buzzwords. but you? you just… mean it. and i get that.
also, yes. the 3% “design” trend needs to die. the chopped-up, sewn-back-together, quotation-mark-core. i’m exhausted.
we don’t need another concept tee with a manifesto. sometimes a good shirt is a good shirt. and that’s enough.
so yeah. i hope comoli gives in one day and lets you do that interview.
you’d ask the questions no one else would. the ones that matter.
i’ll be there. reading every word like it’s scripture.
possibly crying. definitely overdressed. absolutely at peace. 😇