John Lawrence Sullivan

By pushing myself to the limit during weight cuts before a fight, my senses became incredibly sharp, and I experienced a kind of release from material desires. My hearing, smell, and taste heightened, and I became aware of the innate potential that humans truly possess. More than anything, it taught me how to face solitude — and not to fear it. That mindset has stayed with me and continues to shape who I am as a designer today.

Coming from a boxing background and starting a brand without any formal fashion education was a huge challenge, that’s exactly why I wanted to carry the boxer’s spirit of challenge within myself, and within the brand. That’s the reason I chose the name John Lawrence Sullivan instead of using my own. To be honest, at the time, I didn’t imagine the brand would ever grow to present collections internationally. There was definitely some impulsive energy behind the decision, so I’ve never really seen the name as a kind of armour or a burden.Thinking back on it, it really was a pretty daring move.

I started spending time in Nakameguro around the age of twenty-two. Back then, it was a very local neighbourhood, people would walk their dogs off-leash, and others would stroll around drinking alcohol even in the afternoon. There was a certain sense of freedom in the air. The way people dressed there was also very free and everyone seemed to enjoy fashion in their own way.
Being in that atmosphere helped me break away from the rule-bound fashion I used to be drawn to in my teenage years.

I recently moved from Nakameguro, where I had lived for many years, to a neighbouring area. But my store, office, and warehouse are all still in Nakameguro, so I still spend most of my time there — working, sketching, building ideas, and living my daily life.

My father wanted me to become a boxer, and he trained me passionately from a young age. He disliked dirty fights and repeatedly taught me to fight cleanly and beautifully. His belief was that it’s better to lose with grace than to win with an ugly fight. That mindset has become the foundation of who I am as a designer. Rather than chasing trends or sales, I believe in staying true to my own values when creating clothes. Over the years, I’ve built strong relationships with several mills in Bishu, so I don’t visit as often these days. But whenever I have time, I still like to return to those places that remind me of where it all began.

I got into music when I was in junior high school, going to clubs in Hiroshima and listening to records from a wide range of genres like jazz and rare groove. I was influenced by the style of the musicians and DJs, and I used to imitate the way they dressed. When I first moved to Tokyo, I started going to punk events on the weekends, and from there I got into new wave and post-punk as well. I launched my brand when I was twenty-seven, but I think all of those experiences and the music I absorbed naturally blended together, and now they come through in my designs with a kind of Japanese subcultural spirit.

In the world of John Lawrence Sullivan, masculinity means having confidence in yourself and expressing your identity through clothing. The core idea of the brand; to be strong and beautiful, remains unchanged and continues to be deeply rooted in who I am.

In the West, there tends to be a strong association with Japanese pop culture, and I feel that this often shapes how Japanese fashion is perceived. However, Japan also has culturally rooted garments like kimono, hakama, tabi, and workwear like the nikka-pokka, which embody both functionality and beauty, a uniquely Japanese sense of elegance. Personally, I try to express that sense of utilitarian beauty and the quiet intensity that’s often found in the Japanese spirit, even though simple clothing.

I believe fashion should be free, but in my approach to design, there’s always a constant tension with discipline and that balance is one of the reasons I’m so committed to tailoring. I can’t say exactly what the ratio is between instinct and control, but I usually begin by designing freely, following my instincts, and then take the time to step back and review everything with a calm, objective eye. Because I place great importance on the balance between design and quality, even an idea born purely from instinct may evolve into a different form, while still staying true to its original essence.

I don’t design based directly on the energy of each city, but rather on how I want to present the work, sometimes choosing a city based on how I feel the collection should be shown. Each city comes with its own perspectives and expectations, and I always want to respond with a strong, provocative expression. I also want my collections to be seen by people in each city who have an independent sensibility toward fashion.

I see the runway as the only place where I can present what I want to express, in exactly the way I want to express it. There are many different currents in the fashion industry today, but I want to stay true to my own approach and use the runway to deliver my message in the most powerful way possible.

I’ve seen Kiefer’s work in various cities over the years, but learning that his exhibition would be held at Nijo Castle in Kyoto this February became a major factor in shaping the concept for this collection. What initially drew me in was the texture of his work — the layered and blended colours, the weight and presence conveyed through the uneven, tactile surfaces. Combined with the narratives behind each piece, I was deeply moved. To reflect that sense of weight and texture, I used thick materials like melton and flannel as the main fabrics, and incorporated expressive leathers and richly textured textiles. I also applied various effects to further evoke the depth found in his work. Additionally, I reinterpreted the curved sleeve structure often seen in military uniforms, exaggerating it to create extremely wide sleeves that curve dramatically forward, and used this form across multiple pieces. In that volume, I expressed masculinity; in the curves, a sense of gentleness. To highlight the sleeves even more, I strongly shaped the waist, giving the silhouette a sense of tension and beauty. While I attempted to translate Kiefer’s visual language through textiles and silhouettes, conveying the emotional weight of his work is not easy. Still, if that depth can be felt through the overall presence and atmosphere of the garments, I would be truly pleased.

This season, I focused on the colour palette of his work and the subtle sense of warmth that seems to emanate from his anonymous figures. Rather than overt or easily readable emotions, I wanted to express a quiet, internal emotional state, something more subdued and introspective.

Working with Anna and Katariina always begins with me sharing the initial concept and throwing out some broad ideas. But what comes back is never exactly what I imagined. Instead, it’s something much richer, transformed through their unique perspective. This time, we explored how to express elements like rust and mould, things often seen as negative, in a way that could be beautiful through textiles.
For the mould, they layered different shades of green in a way that felt almost painterly, creating real depth. For the rust, we used a glossy flocked print and added distressed effects on top, which I think resulted in a kind of decadent, haunting beauty. What I call a “fighting spirit” isn’t about gender, it’s about honouring your own will and vision, and pushing forward with strength even when the wind is against you. In that sense, Anna and Katariina truly embody that spirit.

As a designer living in the present day, I wanted to stay open and free, even while carrying the weight of the themes. I’d be glad if the balance between that heaviness and sense of release comes through in a meaningful way.

Each season, within the rule-bound framework of making clothes, I search for ways to express myself. Learning through repeated failures, I see the rules as chains, the failures as punishment, and expression as freedom. In that sense, this work carries a strong personal metaphor for me.

I believe there are clear parallels between being a designer and being a boxer. Both are solitary paths that require mental and physical toughness. A runway show takes months of preparation, yet it all ends in just ten fleeting minutes. After a brief moment of joy or relief, reflection quickly follows, and then it’s time to prepare for the next one.
It’s the same with a boxing match. You spend months facing a single opponent, cutting weight, pushing yourself to the limit both mentally and physically. But the fight itself is over in an instant, and whether you win or lose, once that sense of relief passes, the training begins again. Both have a kind of addictive nature. Now that I’m able to engage in serious battles in the new arena of fashion, I don’t miss the ring and to be honest, I have no desire to go through that brutal weight cutting ever again.