Posts Tagged ‘CanCam’

Louis Vuitton’s Mythic 94.3%

Wednesday, June 4th, 2008

Luxury business experts from around the world gathered in Roppongi’s Grand Hyatt last week for the Financial TimesBusiness of Luxury Summit Tokyo ’08. And what an appropriate setting for discussion about luxury — Tokyo! — the world’s most important site for high-end brand consumption.

But proving this importance requires a catchy numerical figure. So in his opening speech, the FT‘s Lionel Barber told the audience that 94.3% of all Japanese women in their 20s own a piece of Louis Vuitton. This number was then repeated in an article by leading Asian luxury expert Radha Chadha in the FT‘s newspaper supplement about the luxury business: “For example, as many as 94 per cent of Tokyo women in their 20s own a Louis Vuitton piece.” A quick Google search on “94.3 AND Louis Vuitton” will bring up countless news articles from major international newspapers and magazines citing the figure. Even the Japanese fashion newspaper Senken Shimbun repeated the number in its June 2 recap of the FT summit. 94.3% is as good as gospel.

Anyone who has spent a few hours in Tokyo knows that the Japanese deeply love Louis Vuitton. Japan gave the French brand both the capital and the blueprint to become an unprecedented global luxury powerhouse.

That being said, 94.3%!?

Let’s think about what this means. If you collected 100 girls in their 20s at random from all across Japan — from the frozen backwaters of Hokkaido to the beach huts of Okinawa — and put them in the same room, only six of them could claim to possess zero Louis Vuitton items. To be perfectly fair to all the experts who keeps repeating this statistic as unassailable fact, 94.3% is totally and utterly impossible.

So where in the world did this imaginary statistic come from? We decided to track down the original source — a 2003 survey report of Tokyo metropolitan area consumers from the now-extinct Saison Research Group titled “The Image of Foreign Luxury Brands and Actual State of Brand Ownership” 『海外高級ブランドのイメージと所有実態』. And there on the bottom of page 6, we are informed that “94.3%” of girls in their 20s own a product from Louis Vuitton. Above this number, however, we get our first taste that something is amiss with this survey: “109.9%” of women in their 40s own Christian Dior! In this thing we normally call “reality,” ownership rate for any object can never top 100%, but this Saison report is very, very special.

You see, Saison’s researchers decided to simply add up all the percentages for ownership of different item groups (like bags, wallets, scarves, perfume, coats, suits, sweaters, pants, belts, shoes, etc.) for the final ownership rate. So, hypothetically, if 50% of women in their 20s own LV bags, 30% own LV wallets, and 15% own cigarette cases, “95%” would be the final figure of brand ownership. Needless to say, this is an extremely problematic form of statistical analysis. And even the author plainly states: “These numbers are not a strict measure of ownership rates for each brand. For the brands where people own multiple items, the number can surpass 100%.” (厳密には各ブランドの所有率を示すものではない。複数アイテムを保有する人が多いブランドでは100%を越えることもある。)I have no idea why the Saison Research Group ever thought to use this ridiculous measure of brand popularity in percentage form, but I think I know now why they disbanded a year later.

Although Saison printed the caveat along with the numbers, no one apparently paid much attention. The Japanese media happily reported these bogus figures as “strict measures of ownership,” and eventually, the digits made their way into the Western media as well, with no one stopping to ask how 94.3% (or 109.9%!) could be possible for a single brand.


So what would be a more accurate figure for Louis Vuitton ownership?

First of all, there are plenty of fashion subcultures and segments of 20 year-olds that do not place Louis Vuitton in their purchase consideration set. “Street-kei” girls from CUTiE or Zipper are absolutely not LV customers. And girls reading the very popular “girly” magazine Non•no are probably too laid back about fashion to purchase such an extravagant level of luxury handbag or wallet. Certainly, LV is a key brand for the mainstream and enormous CanCam set (the magazine features monthly coverage about the brand), but even the CanCam/JJ faction is merely a large plurality in the market — not a majority.

Moreover, there are relatively good surveys that cover LV brand preference and ownership. The TBS General Preference Survey (TBS総合嗜好調査) asks consumers in Tokyo and the Osaka-Kobe region about established brands. Over the last decade, Louis Vuitton has generally topped the survey’s list of beloved fashion brands for women in their 20s — at around 30%. This year’s rate for LV, however, hit a recent low of 26.7%, with only 19.3% of Tokyo women in the survey saying they like the brand. (Louis Vuitton remains stunningly popular in the famously logo-crazy Kansai region.) Brand Data Bank‘s (national) data tells a similar story: only 15% of surveyed women in their 20s own a LV bag.

The Japanese “conventional wisdom” (echoed here) seems to state that around 40% of women own a LV product, and while this may still be high, it is not even one-half of the FT‘s oft-repeated imaginary figure. Our guess would be 30-40% of women in their 20s own some manner of Louis Vuitton item, with 15-20% owning a LV bag. This is still very, very impressive when viewed in the larger scheme of things, but when 94.3% sets the standard, 15% looks rather humble.

One of the main messages at the FT conference was that the Japanese luxury market has matured and become saturated. Brands can no longer swagger into Tokyo and expect to be profitable without perfectly understanding their customers. Good information is more important than ever. So let’s all take a step into the future and bury the totally dubious 94.3% figure once-and-for-all.

This article originally appeared on the Diamond Agency blog clast.

Race as Fashion Signifier

Friday, October 5th, 2007

Last time, we discussed Japanese fashion magazines’ obfuscation of Tokyo scenery to create appropriate atmosphere for consumer fantasy. This dodged a more immediate element for establishing proper context: the actual fashion models. But before even considering which individual model to use, Japanese editors make a more general decision on the race of the models representing the feel of the magazine. Historical factors and a self-identification as a “monoracial nation state” makes race a much more potent signifier in Japan than in places like the United States where a pro-diversity philosophy has intentionally de-emphasized the idea of implicit meanings in skin color.

Due to the senzoku model system, Japanese magazines hold a stable of exclusive models to represent the magazine. Other than the high-fashion magazines, editors rarely just pull together a certain group of well-known individuals from a “pool of models” to fit certain stories. They generally assemble a semi-permanent “team,” and the average racial composition of this team is linked to the magazine’s fashion category.

Magazines in the “real clothes” genre — like CanCam — aim to reflect the “real lives” of their readers. This means models who are not excessively tall, and ultimately, “pure” Japanese. CanCam uses almost all 100% Japanese models (we’ll count Yamada Yu as Japanese rather than a distinct “Okinawan” and ignore the half-Japanese Mine Erika as a rare exception.) When compared to the overwhelming number of half-Japanese/half-white models used in JJ and ViVi, this should be seen as an intentional decision. CanCam‘s power, however, is in its ability to create sympathy and self-association between readers and models. Since Japanese office ladies and junior college students have no fantastical aspirations towards the artistic side of the fashion business over in Europe, they are happy to see themselves in Ebi-chan’s shoes. Gyaru magazines like Popteen or Cawaii! are fundamentally similar in aspiration. Since Japan is the locus of legitimacy for that particular fashion, foreign or half-Japanese models would only confuse messaging.

High-end fashion magazines, on the other hand, mostly feature clothing from European houses and luxury brands, pegging the center of legitimacy in the West. In order to ensure that the presentation harks back to the larger Eurocentric fashion world, magazines like Spur or Ginza — almost without exception — use non-Japanese and mostly Caucasian models. This prevents Japanese female readers from self-association, but that’s the point. Like the old Groucho Marx quote, “I don’t care to belong to any club that will have me as a member,” Japanese high-fashion fans do not want to see the clothes they desire on real-life Japanese people. There may be a tad bit of self-effacement in this sentiment, but it generally questions more elite Japanese consumers’ feelings about their own locale. The fantasy, therefore, requires an army of non-Japanese models.

ViVi and Glamorous‘ overwhelming use of half-Japanese and three-quarters-Japanese models like Fujii Rina, Hasegawa Jun, and Iwahori Seri begs a more pointed question: What does race mean when it’s not a pure reflection of either here nor there? These magazines are not targeting some massive half-Japanese readership, nor do these models look foreign enough to recenter the magazine atmosphere outside of Japan.

Herein lies lingering issues of perceived racial inferiority. I’ve been told numerous times in Japan that “clothes look better on foreigners,” by which they mean “white or black people.” This is not objectively true (nor subjectively true, in my view), but editors have long used half-Japanese models on this principle to bridge the gap between Japanese self-association and cool “foreign” fashion. A half-Japanese model looks “foreign” enough to enhance the image of the clothing, but close enough to the reader to send a message of commonality. Things are changing, however. Male fashion magazine Popeye previously used only half-Japanese models but moved to more foreigners once readers voiced less need for racial similarity in considering the clothing.

An underlying point remains: Race still has an important textual quality in Japan that impacts companies’ branding and messaging. The natural increase in racial diversity seen in Western countries, mixed with post-’60s progressive politics, has worked to de-emphasize the use of race as a personality/lifestyle determinate. I doubt that Calvin Klein’s choice of Djimon Hounsou as their spokesman was intended solely to say something “black” about Calvin Klein or limit the messaging to African-Americans. The political correctness of “neutral” race — combined with a need to emphasize inclusion to target multiple communities — has led to the “Benetton approach” in ad campaigns (except for the occasional lack of black and Asian models at NY fashion week). In Japan, however, there is still a strong idea that a Japanese face can rarely legitimize a product for which the aura is located abroad. CanCam is showing that Japanese readers often want to see Japanese models, but this only works within a narrow context of establishing horizontal commonality.

This article originally appeared on the Diamond Agency blog clast.

Non•no vs. CanCam: Girls’ Girls vs. Boys’ Girls

Wednesday, June 27th, 2007

Non•no faced a rough lead-up to the 21st century. From a peak circulation of 971,020 in the second-half of 1995, the famed biweekly female fashion magazine bled readers until reaching 324,736 in the bottom of 2005 (Audit Bureau of Circulation figures). After adding Tanaka Miho (田中美保) as mascot model in early 2006, however, Non•no appears to have stopped the readership hemorrhaging and has successfully moved back up to a 440,870 circulation (2007 printer-certified). The June 22 copy of daily fashion newspaper Senken Shimbun featured the front page article “Feminine & Layered: Young Brands are Recovering,” citing Non•no‘s revival and Tanaka’s popularity as key reasons behind the increased sales of young women’s casual brands.

Thanks to the tried-and-true technique of using senzoku models to create relatable personages who represent the magazine, Non•no has again become competitive to the “red-letter” (赤文字系) magazine genre represented by CanCam, JJ, and Ray. While the Non•no average reader age does not differ much from that of CanCam, the former attracts a broader range of readers than the narrow band of college students and OLs who read the latter. According to Senken, the brands featured in Non•no still attract women in their 30s who enjoyed a similar style of layered street fashion in the 1990s.

In terms of content and editorial, however, there could not be a wider gulf between the two magazines. Non•no has no clear overarching narrative in the way that the serious pursuit of an affluent boyfriend/husband underlies every single page of CanCam. There are almost no references to boys in an entire issue of Non•no. For example, two of the main Non•no models  visit Disneyland in the July 5 issue for an advertorial spread as a pair — rather than on a date. Overall, the contents of Non•no tend to create a private consumer world for young women where boys, occupation, and social pressure do not intrude.

This sets the tone for the fashion pages: Non•no mostly concentrates on “cute” but ultimately casual outfits, where skill is demonstrated through a mastery of complex layering techniques. The CanCam buzzword “elegance” is not an appropriate descriptor. There is a total lack of European luxury brands in Non•no, which almost seems to protect readers from such adult issues as social status and socioeconomic class. If CanCam is about the proper ascent into adulthood, Non•no is about the quiet avoidance of growing up. All in all, the editors of Non•no seem completely unconcerned with advising their readers on how to conform to the standards and tastes of other parties, organizations, or individuals. Girls just want to be girls. Wardrobes don’t fulfill functional roles of work or love — they just are fun.

Tanaka Miho perfectly embodies this more nonchalant and personal approach to fashion and lifestyle. She may not top the lists of Japanese men’s favorite model, but she is not positioned for such competition. She’s a girl’s girl. If Ebihara Yuri from CanCam represents the “perfect embodiment of Japanese men’s desires,” Tanaka Miho is the standout “every girl” who is cute in her “everyday way.” The Non•no look is often described as “feminine” — but this suggests “female-consumed ideas of femininity” rather than a construct for men’s desires. CanCam readers imitate Ebi-chan in their aspiration to reach her powerful levels of attractiveness, but Non•no readers gain self-confidence and respite from seeing Tanaka Miho’s unassuming charm as one close to their own.

This article originally appeared on the Diamond Agency blog clast.

Can Cam: The Number One Fashion Magazine in Japan

Tuesday, March 6th, 2007

The Japanese magazine market has seen relative decline over the last few years after peaking in 1996. Some blame the increasingly large amount of free information available on the Internet, but the sales drop began well before online media made a significant penetration into the Japanese market. Since most youth-oriented magazines in Japan are mostly “consumer guides” — with loads of product information and very little in the way of critical review — it logically follows that the decrease of consumer budgets in the recessionary environment would cause less need for consumption guidance of the latest and most fabulous items. Whether this is the main reason for decline or not, women’s fashion magazines are generally holding their position against the market turbulence compared to other categories of titles.

One particular magazine Can Cam has seen unmatched growth in the last few years, and broadly speaking, dominates the women’s fashion world. The name derives from an abbreviation of “I Can Campus,” reflecting the magazine’s roots as a publication for college and junior college students. Now the median reader age is 23.02 (2005 data), and more than half of the readers are employed. The publisher reports sales of 715,417 (2006 data), but even Audit Bureau of Circulation (ABC)’s more conservative estimate of 594,499 for late 2005 is an astounding sales figure. (For reference, magazines with much wider general audiences and longer histories such as Shukan Bunshun and Shukan Post only hit 575,343 and 436,775 copies in the ABC data from late 2005, respectively.)

Like other magazines, Can Cam peaked in the late 1990s and saw a steady drop in readership. From the nadir of 320,135 in early 2001, sales increased and grew to the current number – entailing an 85% increase in four years. Most attribute the growth to the magazine’s innovative use of senzoku moderu (専属モデル) – a half-dozen young female models who appear exclusively within Can Cam. Each month’s fashion features employ these girls wearing the latest styles and products, and they rarely materialize in rival publications. Readers make strong associations with themselves and these female models and pick up a copy of Can Cam with the guarantee that their favorite will appear in at least 20 to 30 pages of the magazine every month. Rival publications such as Ray, and JJ offer similar content, but the exclusive celebrity models have given Can Cam an edge over the competition. (Titles JJ and ViVi targeted at a similar audience have seen sales fall in the last two years. ) Can Cam’s sales cannot be solely attributed to readership movement within the same fashion look, however. Female fashion magazines in totally different “lifestyle genres” such as non•no and Classy have also seen a decline.

Lately, the most prominent three of these models – Yamada Yu, Ebihara Yuri (aka Ebi-chan), and Oshikiri Moe – have branched out into other media like TV with the backing of their strong-armed production agencies to become stars in their own right. Ebihara in particular has been the “it girl” of the last two years and found herself as a top spokesmodel for many consumer goods.

Young Japanese consumers have always made their fashion choices through strict adherence to “manual magazines,” and the aggregation of females into the Can Cam readership has created a certain level of visual homogeny in the streets. Issues frequently hit 600 pages – almost all of the content dedicated to detailed information on mixing and matching specific apparel items. Although the mass of information presents a large number of possible arrangement options, individual permutations upon the ingredients would all lead to similar results: a style fun and young, safe for work and play. The general strategy is inexpensive clothes augmented with luxury brand accessories, such as bags and jewelry. Hairstyle and make-up advice run somewhere between a catalog (which prices and brand names off to the side) and detailed instructions for scientific experiments.

The Social Phenomenon

The Can Cam style hardly resembles a traditional “conservative” look, but its basic philosophy is fundamentally aligned with the goals of mainstream society. The core readers may want to have fun in college and in their first years serving the corporate world, but there still remains a subtext focusing upon the teleological mission of finding an appropriate husband (and less explicitly, of taking on the responsibilities of wife, then mother). Serious discussion of long-term career would be best served by another publication. For this large class of young women, the clerical assignment immediately following college or junior college is something like a set course of “quaternary education” — a period of life to be passed through as a shared experience with other girls in other firms, and Can Cam provides guidance towards its successful “graduation.” Long ago, there may have been more pressure for girls of this age range to marry earlier, but their current divergence into fun and consumption has become their de facto accepted social task — especially when other segments of society have slacked on their appropriate consumption duties. Choosing luxury brands over domestic concerns is no longer widely regarded as a deviance from the “proper” social path, and in this meaning, Can Cam is “conservative” — albeit a conservatism transformed to meet the realities of today’s society.

Opposed to the “erotic cute” of recent pop idol Koda Kumi or seen in popular lingerie catalog Peach John, Can Cam readers are less determined to use fashion to express their own individuality or show off their sexual appeal and more interested in attracting widespread interest from possible boyfriends. In Japanese, this style is called “mote-kei.” A central concept to the current milieu is the goukon (合コン) — traditional parties where an equal number of boys and girls meet at an izakaya (sit-down bar) and get to know each other. Ebihara Yuri is the golden child of the moment, precisely because of her perfect fit within the goukon paradigm. Rival Can Cam model Yamada Yu on the other hand has a more stylish, sexy image that is somewhat perceived as threatening to boys, and therefore, relatively unsafe for the dating environment. Designer fashion is also a no-no for these dates, although designer bags would not cut into the cuteness.

What is the winning prize in the goukon game? From the looks of Cam Cam’s photographic-comic series “Double Fantasy” (starring Ebihara), dream boyfriends may have stubble and designer haircuts, but they are still in suits. Things have not changed so much since the ’80s when “the Sankou” (tall, well-educated, high salary) was the ideal. Young women, however, may be less “realistic” than their ’80s counterparts, who usually “settled” for a nearby opportunity at their own companies. Can Cam now suggests widespread social desires where liberation is celebrated through brand consumption and communal dreams are upwardly-mobile.

This article originally appeared on the Diamond Agency blog clast.

Japanese Magazines in Freefall

Friday, March 2nd, 2007

On February 1, 2007, the Asahi Shimbun ran an article about the decline in Japanese magazine sales over the last nine years. Total 2006 sales were down 4.4% compared to 2005 — the largest single drop since 1999. As examples of the trend, Asahi offered the following sales comparisons between 1996 and 2006 for several magazines from the Audit Bureau of Circulation:

Shukan Gendai (weekly news magazine): 720K –> 440K

Shukan Post (weekly news magazine): 860K –> 400K

non•no (monthly young women’s fashion and lifestyle magazine): 940K –> 340K

with (monthly women’s fashion and lifestyle magazine): 740K –> 360K

Tokyo Walker (local information magazine): 400K –> 80K

Why is the Japanese market for magazines declining?

Conventional wisdom in the Japanese publishing industry blames the rise of the internet. They fear that readers are gradually moving over to the internet to obtain free information instead of relying on magazines. The problem with this theory, however, is that magazine sales started to decline at a serious rate long before the internet made any sort of serious penetration in Japan. Most titles peaked around 1995 to 1996 and have been free-falling ever since. The internet never really reached significant diffusion rates in Japan until the early 21st century, by which time, magazines had already been in decline for a half-decade. Most importantly, the rates of decline for the titles above were steady show no serious dips once the internet kicks in.

In general, comparing “the internet” and “magazines” is difficult since there are hardly any “web magazines” in Japan that can claim to provide the same kind of information as magazines at the same high quality. In the case of Tokyo Walker, the internet does a fantastic job at putting movie timetables and restaurant maps at right your fingertips — making the print magazine less efficient and basically irrelevant. For fashion magazines, however, it’s a different story. Internet media has yet to prove an authoritarian status. More than just kids wanting to see the latest styles in fashion magazines, they wanted to know which styles have the blessing of the editors — and as an extention, society at large. Internet rivals to non•no may be popping up somewhere, but at this point, brand new web-magazines with the same content would have a hard time convincing young female readers that their consumption guidance is as “safe” as the old printed standard.

The second reason often stated for decline is a heterogenization of tastes. The Asahi article notes that magazines with and non•no are “general” young female readership magazines and do not have specialized audiences. Dentsu magazine analyst Kira Toshihiko is quoted in Asahi as stating that “In the past, it was ‘I will read this because others are reading it.’ Now ‘a me different from others’ has made a presence, and this plays into magazine selection.” Essentially, this theory posits that readers are turning away from magazines, because the identity created through adherence to a specific magazine lifestyle would create a result to close to the identities of others.

Certainly, the Japanese consumer has become less hesitant towards individual preference over time, but the recent success of the young women’s fashion magazine Can Cam strongly challenges a wide application of Kira’s idea. Sales have risen for Can Cam in the last few years at the expense of rival titles. Between the high issue sales, the ubiquity of the “Can Cam look on the streets, and the widespread popularity of the magazine’s models Ebihara Yuri and Yamada Yu, the total popularity of the consumer lifestyle shows that a certain segment of Japanese society — mostly junior college students, university students, and first-year OLs — want to be a part of a fashion lifestyle with lots and lots of other people. The Can Cam reader may not be specifically attracted to the magazine because of the look’s massive presence in the market, but surely they are not reading it because they want to create more distinction between themselves and others.

So what is the reason for a decline in magazine sales? Most definitely, the population decline means less young people, and this has hurt almost all of the major content industries which depend on young consumers. We should also consider the idea that the drop in consumer budgets during this long recessionary and weak economic period caused consumers to need less in guidance in where to spend their discretionary income. Other than the stable “young single female market” that makes up the Can Cam subculture, young people are no longer the leaders in Japanese consumption. Things may have gotten so bad that kids don’t even want to drop ¥600 on the magazine itself, but moreover, who needs fashion guides to construct ¥100,000 outfits of all the hottest brands when you don’t have ¥100,000 lying around? For most of the fashion and lifestyle magazines in Japan, the content is almost exclusively informational guides to products and services rather than essays, articles, interviews, or critique. Magazines are thus entertaining — like window-shopping — but also highly educational in regards to the latest trends, the proper way to style clothes, and which particular brands and items are “essential” for the season. Without the pocket money to act upon this practical guidance, however, these magazines are certainly not worth their cover price.

Although this theory cannot explain the drop in the weekly news and gossip shukanshi‘s sales, one cannot ignore the fact that the fashion and magazine markets peaked at the exact same time — in 1996 — and have been falling steadily ever since. Fashion consumption and fashion magazines have always gone hand-in-hand in Japan, and their decline should thus also be related.

Whatever the case, Japanese magazine publishers have an uphill battle to keep themselves relevant and prospering in an increasingly diverse and desperate market. Clearly, one solution is to follow the success stories of Can Cam and men’s magazine Leon in creating a solid brand identity that matches perfectly with a specific market segment flush with spending money. Otherwise the current market trends are going to sweep the unfocused and unbranded titles right away to sea.

This article originally appeared on the Diamond Agency blog clast.