“You can tell how excited an otaku is by the way they’re dressed.” / Thus Spoke Hijiki Isoflavone

Dear readers, what do you usually wear to major otaku events such as conventions and stage plays? That is the theme for today’s column: otaku fashion.

Recently, what otakus wear to doujinshi conventions has become something of a hot topic, prompting many of us to reflect on our own clothing choices. Some of us might not be very style-savvy and are at a loss as to how to become more fashionable. Others might be wondering if buying a fancy outfit for an anime or manga event is really necessary, even if the occasion calls for something a little more formal than usual, such as a symphony concert or afternoon tea party.

Before continuing, I want to make it absolutely clear that judging someone for the way they dress or for not following some arbitrary fashion rule is incredibly obnoxious behavior, even more so if you say it out loud. Just as everyone is free to choose how much merch they want to buy or allow themselves to get suckered in by companies leveraging the blind box trend, how someone chooses to present themself is entirely up to them.

As for me, it’s only been in the past two or three years that I’ve started to pay more attention to the way I dress. In terms of how fashion conscious I am, stuff like “bright-colored hair usually calls for bleach” and “a basic black or white tee can make you look somewhat put together” is pretty much the extent of my knowledge. Basically, if you’re looking for fashion advice, you’re asking the wrong person.

Regarding how I used to dress before that... I honestly don’t remember anymore. Sometimes, you’ll come across articles like “Fashion Trends of the Early 2000s We’re Glad to Leave Behind!” or “Throwback Fashion Trends: Yay or Nay?” where people take a trip down memory lane and laugh about the absurd clothing they used to wear. Sadly, even those photos aren’t enough to trigger my memory; I can only imagine that I used to wear colorful clothes I found cute at the time without regard to whether they looked good together. While my outfits most likely weren’t “stylish” by society’s standards, the mere fact that I was wearing something I loved gave me immense satisfaction.

Personally, I feel that as long as your clothes are covering what needs to be covered, putting together an outfit can be as intuitive as “This is super cute! I wanna wear it!” or “Hmm, these two don’t look half bad together.” This way, I can avoid being overly critical of my laughably bad fashion choices back in the day.

While I’m aware of society’s stereotypes regarding how otakus dress, I find them to be highly inaccurate in real life. This became especially evident the first time I saw a 2.5D stage play, which was a whole nother thing compared to doujinshi conventions.

At conventions, people tend to wear outfits inspired by their favorite characters’ color palette, apparel from official collabs with fashion brands, or simply their Sunday best: essentially, clothes that one would wear on celebratory occasions. That, or clothes that are functional and allow you to swiftly perform movements such as securing the doujinshi you want from a popular “wall-circle” booth or getting in and out of the toilet as quickly as possible.

People who attend stage plays, on the other hand, usually wear pretty, flowy dresses, although this varies greatly from play to play. At a stage play based on a certain long-running shōjo manga series, a considerable number of people were wearing kimono; at a different stage play, this one train-themed, you could spot many fans wearing T-shirts bearing the sign “Takanawa Gateway Station.” I find myself easily moved by that kind of enthusiasm, so ever since, I’ve made sure to check out what each person is wearing whenever I attend a stage play, concert, or event. Discovering what merch is available in each fandom or what outfits are popular among the fans has been one of my hidden pleasures.

Whether it’s through an ita-bag or the way they do their hair and makeup, people tend to express their passion in various ways, and it’s interesting to see how diverse fashion at otaku events can be.

I once went clothes shopping with a friend who wanted to get a new outfit for the stage play we were going to see. When we went to see the play on opening day, a sea of hot pink and black—the theme colors of the show—had taken over the venue, each person decked out in their best oshi-inspired outfit for the occasion.

My friend was completely hooked after that performance, becoming a regular attendee to the point that she would start muttering “must... acquire... hot pink outfit...” at random intervals as though delirious from a fever. I didn’t blame her—why wouldn’t she want to wear the color that reminded her of the person who’d thoroughly captivated her heart, mind, and soul?

There was just one problem, though. In color analysis terms, my friend was pretty much the opposite of what you’d call a “Bright Spring,” and it was obvious that none of the items in her wardrobe would go with the hot pink outfit she sought so desperately.