When Mikiharu Tsujita launched Full Count in 1992, he did so with a singular, almost romantic ambition: to re-create the jeans he revered most—the Levi’s 501s of the 1940s and ’50s, the bedrock of blue jeans history.

These jeans had a coarse feel to the touch, were never preshrunk, twisted visibly after washing, and were woven with irregular threads that faded into uneven but captivating patterns over time.

Fast-forward more than three decades and the Osaka-based jeans maker has carved out its own niche in the apparel industry.

Tsujita, 58, the Full Count president, said the enduring charm of Japanese denim as a whole rests on two pillars: “fabrics that can only be made in Japan” and “a sense of beauty that the Japanese themselves discovered.”

Indeed, in the world of fashion, denim may have been born in America, but its soul has found a second home in Japan.

What distinguishes Japanese denim is not only the rugged fabric woven on vintage looms, but also a deeply ingrained aesthetic sensibility—one that embraces imperfection, treasures the passage of time, and elevates fading and fraying into beauty.

Long prized by European haute couture houses for its texture and depth, Japanese denim continues to command global respect. The pull is so strong that even brands with little name recognition have been welcomed into the ranks of French luxury giant LVMH.

Though denim powerhouses such as the United States and Italy remain influential, it is Japan that inspires a uniquely fervent international following.

Which raises the question: in such a fiercely competitive market, what is the secret behind Japan’s singular sartorial allure?

KEEPING THE LOOMS RUNNING

When Tsujita set out to emulate the fabled Levi's jeans, he discovered that the San Francisco-based company no longer used the same manufacturing methods of the past. 

By the 1960s, Levi’s had abandoned traditional shuttle looms in favor of faster, more efficient shuttle-less machines, making those idiosyncratic fabrics nearly impossible to produce.

“The old machines had been scrapped,” Tsujita recalled.

His search eventually took him to Okayama in the 1990s, where he discovered what he had been longing for: a local textile mill still clinging to vintage power looms.

These traditional shuttle looms, built for weaving dense fabrics such as denim, rattle and shake as they work, producing minute irregularities and a subtly uneven texture.

That lack of uniformity—combined with the distinctive tension of the weave—gives Japanese denim its signature character, allowing indigo dye to fade into rich, complex patterns over time.

Even in Okayama, however, the company was preparing to abandon the old machines in favor of faster, more efficient shuttle-less looms. Tsujita made his plea: "Keep the looms running. We’ll sustain you by buying the fabric."

Persuaded, the firm agreed.

From there, master artisans, guided by hand and eye, drew fabric from the vintage looms—cloth marked by textures and irregularities that no other country could reproduce. In time, these distinctive qualities won international acclaim.

Tsujita also credits Japan with redefining the very meaning of denim. Where others saw flaws—fading, twisting, unevenness—Japanese wearers recognized beauty. That sensibility spread across the globe, transforming how jeans were valued and worn.

“To give shape to the idea that the passage of time itself adds value is the achievement of Japanese diligence and an unyielding spirit of inquiry,” Tsujita said.

HARD-EARNED SUCCESS

Full Count has built its business on this heritage of craftsmanship and a sense of singularity. Rather than chasing sales campaigns, the brand refines its fabrics and designs while keeping its classics alive.

It has ventured into collaborations with fashion-forward names such as Fumito Ganryu—whose label is known for fusing sleek, modern tailoring with elements of streetwear—but the company’s core values remain firmly intact.

About 80 percent of sales still come from staple denim pants, jackets, shirts and T-shirts. In an industry where churning out new products every six months and discounting the leftovers is standard practice, Full Count’s approach stands apart.

“Establishing this almost routine-like system made all the difference,” Tsujita said with pride. “Sales have grown roughly 140 percent year after year, and before we knew it, the business had reached the 3-billion-yen ($20-million) level.”

The rare “authentic” vintage jeans Tsujita once idolized now fetch millions of yen per pair when well preserved. One might assume the booming vintage market has buoyed his business, but Tsujita dismisses the suggestion.

“Those pieces are so scarce that true enthusiasts already know exactly who owns what," he said. "It’s a closed circle of a few collectors and has almost nothing to do with our trade.”

By comparison, Full Count’s jeans—typically priced between 30,000 and 50,000 yen—are carried in about 70 stores across Japan and another 250 overseas.

That success was hard-won. The brand first ventured abroad around 1997, when the reputation of Japanese denim was confined to a handful of industry insiders. A few Full Count pieces reached prestigious European boutiques, but they failed to take hold.

After repeated trial and error, Tsujita realized: “Unless you convey the culture, it won’t take root.”

So Full Count carved out its own identity, positioning itself between styles like preppy and streetwear rather than aligning strictly with American casual.

As Okayama newcomers such as Samurai Jeans and Momotaro Jeans—famed for their ultra-heavy fabrics—began attracting worldwide attention, Full Count, too, steadily built a reputation as one of Japan’s established denim houses.

The road was not without conflict. Tsujita revealed that his business had come under legal pressure several times from none other than Levi’s—the very company he worshipped.

The disputes centered on trademarked details: Levi’s iconic arcuate stitching, the curved double-arch on the back pockets, and the famous red tab sewn into the seam. Yet, Tsujita remains defiant.

“We’ve never paid a settlement and never lost a case,” he said.

Since 2019, Full Count has abandoned those contested elements altogether, embracing a pared-down simplicity.

Meanwhile, the industry itself is shifting. In 2023, venerable Okayama textile maker Kuroki entered a partnership with Métiers d’Art, part of luxury giant LVMH. Tsujita regards the move with ambivalence.

“It’s disappointing that it was foreign capital, rather than Japanese investors, that recognized and invested in the value of Japanese denim,” he said.

“But the value of Japanese denim is already becoming a shared language in the global fashion world. Offers of investment and acquisition from overseas will only grow,” he predicted.

At peak times, Tsujita added, buyout proposals arrive on his desk several times a month.

Tsujita will turn 59 in November. When asked about the future, he grew reflective.

“As I approach 60, I may need to think about passing the baton now that the business framework is firmly in place," he said. "Japanese denim holds a value unlike anything else in the world—that’s why I want to be sure it’s preserved for the next generation.”