In the previous installment, drawing on the work of Stuart Hall, we examined how identity is not a fixed essence but something strategically positioned within specific historical contexts. How, then, did those grouped together under the label “Japanese designers” — Issey Miyake, Rei Kawakubo, and Yohji Yamamoto — construct their positions within the space of Paris Fashion Week, and through what kinds of strategies?

Paris Fashion Week is often described as “the world’s highest stage of fashion.” It is generally understood as a space where designers from around the globe present their creativity and technical skill, and where their work is evaluated accordingly. Certainly, the pieces shown on the runway are full of innovation. However, Paris is not merely a place where talent is displayed and judged on its own merits. Some designers are labeled “avant-garde,” while others are described as “conservative” or “traditional” — how do such distinctions come into being?

Paris Fashion Week contains a structure that goes beyond the mere presentation of creativity. It is shaped by traditions formed over a long history, and involves a range of actors, including critics, media institutions, and buyers. Works are not simply presented; they are interpreted and positioned within this network of relationships. Evaluation is not determined solely by an individual designer’s ability, but is formed in relation to an already existing order.

It was the French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu who conceptualized the world of fashion not merely as a stage of creation but as a structured space. He analyzed cultural domains such as art and literature as distinct “fields.” A field is a space structured by the distribution of economic, cultural, and symbolic capital, within which struggles over prestige and legitimacy unfold. Evaluation, in this sense, is not a purely aesthetic judgment but something formed within these relations of power.

Paris, in particular, is not simply a host city. Through the long tradition of haute couture, it has accumulated symbolic capital over time and become a distinctive field. To participate in Paris is therefore not only to present a collection; it is also to be positioned within an existing order. Innovation is not welcomed unconditionally, but is understood and evaluated in relation to the structure of the field.

Seen in this way, Paris Fashion Week is not merely a platform for creative display, but a structured space in which evaluation and influence are contested. There may not always be visible confrontations, yet a quiet competition persists between those who uphold the established order and those who seek to transform it.

In Bourdieu’s terms, such a space can be understood as a “field of struggle.” It is not a loud or explicit battle, but a subtle contest over legitimacy and symbolic value.

How, then, did Japanese designers establish their positions within this structure? How were they recognized and evaluated at the center of Paris, despite differences in language and cultural background? Tracing this process is not merely a matter of recounting fashion history; it offers insight into the very dynamics of the field itself.

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