Photo/Illutration Visitors wander Denim Street in the Kojima district of Okayama Prefecture. Known as a “holy land” of Japan-made jeans, the 400-meter-long street is lined with jeans shops, workshops, galleries and cafes. (Photo by Lisa Vogt)

My dad calls them dungarees, although in my book, that’s something different.

Maybe your Japanese mother calls them G-pan, a name that came from “G.I. pants,” trousers that, in the mid-20th century, the Allied occupation forces, or G.I.s, wore off-duty. I’m of the generation that calls those blue pants made of denim “jeans.”

I’d been looking forward to visiting the small town of Kojima in the southern part of Kurashiki, Okayama Prefecture, for a long time. I’m quite a Japanese denim fan and have been ordering custom-made Okayama "aka-mimi" (red ears) jeans for decades.

For the uninitiated, “red ears” refer to a denim fabric woven with a selvage (self-edge) finish using a Toyoda shuttle loom (the company that today makes the Lexus and Crown) from a hundred years ago. It takes five times more time to produce a smaller amount of fabric than with modern machines, and real indigo dye is used to create the iconic blue hue.

Slow and artisanal, these made-in-Japan quality jeans are the antithesis of imported fast fashion clothes, which often come from questionable sources.

In the 18th century, when rice paddies were being developed around the country, this area, which didn’t get much rainfall, had to come up with a different means of supporting itself.

Kojima reclaimed coastal land that, despite having salt residue, was found to grow cotton well. The area thrived, producing "tabi" socks and "hakama" skirts.

After the Pacific War, it became a hub for manufacturing school uniforms, thus gaining experience working with heavy materials using sewing machines.

In the mid-1960s, Okayama started making jeans, first from imported, excess, second-rate denim from the United States. In 1972, Japan’s first line of jeans was made here.

In Kurashiki’s traditional merchant town district is Denim Street, a small alley of shops selling upscale artisan items made of denim, and Kurashiki Ivy Square, commercial brick buildings from Kurabo’s original factory in the Meiji Era (1868-1912). Its ivy-covered, old raw cotton warehouse complex houses restaurants, museums, a hotel and shopping areas.

After walking the streets where it all started, my appreciation of and infatuation with Okayama jeans were reaffirmed. The fashion industry, as well as society as a whole, must continue heading in the direction of ethical, sustainable and low-impact production.

A premium pair of jeans does not come cheaply, but the care that goes into that treasured piece made from non-synthetic fabric and dyes, with actual copper buttons, and produced on vintage looms, is priceless.

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This article by Lisa Vogt, a Washington-born and Tokyo-based photographer, originally appeared in the Jan. 1-8 issue of Asahi Weekly. It is part of the series "Lisa’s Wanderings Around Japan," which depicts various places across the country through the perspective of the author, a professor at Meiji University.

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