There’s something oddly hypnotic about the way trends resurface online, dressed up in nostalgia and rebranded for a new crowd that has no idea how it got there. A scroll through TikTok reveals a resurging trend in which many were referring to as Visual Kei — video after video showcasing dramatic silhouettes and head-turning outfits, often set to that one song by Plastic Tree.
@kef.0130 まじカッコよすぎですわそーたくん🔥早朝活動部 @そーた #03 #メンズファッション #古着ファッション #ootd #fashion #fashionista #japanese #outfitinspo #tiktokfashion #outfitideas #fashiontiktok #y2k #平成 #2000sfashions #平成男子 #お兄系 #回転界隈 ♬ Slide. – Plastic tree
@miya..38 @あんていく。 @つまようじフォルム #08 #03 #2000s #ootd ♬ Slide. – Plastic tree
@untake_nari tokyo city … #fashion #archive #ootd #00sfashion #vkei #fyp ♬ Kuuchuu Buranko – vkeibento
@_sxyrlln 堕ちてゆく夜へ… #archive #00sfashion #vkei #ootd #fashion #06 #fyp #outfit ♬ Kuuchuu Buranko – vkeibento
Fur-trimmed leather jackets, flared denim, layered chains, and statement belts worn by users spinning in slow motion to show off their archival Japanese brands. At first glance, it felt like the subculture was making a bold return. But going deeper begs the question: was this truly Visual Kei, or just a stylised echo of something it once was — like what has become of cyber goth and punk fashion?
This was intriguing. The outfits had a layer of depth to them. Combining a mix of grunge, boho and archival-inspired styling, blending many subcultures, becoming this dark, deconstructed fashion statement that we see today.
But as we explored the history of the subculture, we found styles that didn’t reflect what Visual Kei was before. Instead, everything felt watered down — detached from its musical roots and more focused on aesthetic appeal, only having half the spark of the magic it once had.
Origin of Visual Kei
So what exactly is Visual Kei, and what makes it more than just a music genre or fashion statement? Visual Kei, meaning “visual style” in English, is a subculture born from music, performance, and self-expression, emerging in Japan during the late ’80s. It grew from bands like X Japan and spread through a wave of artists who pushed boundaries with voluminous hair, theatrical makeup, and outfits that ranged from gothic and punk-inspired to elaborate gender-defying ensembles. The sound varied — from metal to ballads — but what united the scene was a sense of transformation and emotional intensity. It was about embodying something bigger, something expressive and raw, with roots deeply tied to live performance and musical identity.
Personally, the way the subculture is playing out today doesn’t surprise us. It’s something that’s happened time and time again — a niche movement gets revived through nostalgia, only to return diluted and disconnected from its past. When Y2K started trending again, it became mischaracterised, with key elements of the original aesthetic left out.
Fast fashion latched on, selling a misrepresented version that lacked context or accuracy. That’s exactly how I see the Visual Kei scene now — new interpretations being mistaken for the origin, reducing a deeply layered subculture, built on music and style, into a surface-level trend. Almost as if we lost touch with the extravagance of it all, and instead, conformed to something more palatable towards social media.
Curious to make sense of this dramatic shift, we spoke to two individuals who have immersed themselves in the subculture in their own ways, to understand how this new wave of style came to be.
Kira, 28, Japan, Artist
Kira is a 28-year-old interdisciplinary artist based in Tokyo. Active in the electronic and underground rave scene, his work spans music, visual storytelling, and cinematic experimentation. With a deep-rooted passion for Japanese film, emotional soundscapes, and conceptual identity, he’s been crafting immersive experiences that blur the lines between reality and fiction.
How did you first get into Vkei, and was it the fashion or music that hooked you?
It started when I first watched the movie Oresama — I was really drawn to Miyavi’s style. Then I got into binge-watching Hyde’s solo work outside of L’Arc-en-Ciel. As an artist myself, both the fashion and the music inspired my own style.
How important do you think the connection between fashion and music is in the Vkei scene?
That connection is still really important, at least to me. I even directed my own music video called Total Darkness, inspired by Hyde’s Fake Divine. I incorporated makeup, wings, candles — I wanted it to feel like something straight out of a Hyde-era visual. It’s important to know the difference between inspiration and imitation. A lot of people just copy things without adding any soul or originality.
Do you feel like today’s “Vkei-inspired” outfits lack the theatricality that defined the early eras?
Yeah, I do. People nowadays seem more focused on replicating what they see online than expressing something unique. Personally, I don’t think I dress fully Vkei, but I take inspiration from certain aspects and mix it with my own taste.
How do you think social media and the rise of archival fashion online have influenced the way people approach Vkei?
Definitely—especially on TikTok. On one hand, it’s cool to see users posting their fits and spreading the aesthetic. On the other hand, it often becomes more about trend-following than authentic self-expression. People confuse Vkei with just wearing Japanese archive brands, and the deeper meaning behind the style gets flattened into an algorithm-friendly look.
Izanna, 23, Malaysia, Stylist
Izanna is a 23-year-old creative based in Malaysia. Active in the local thrift and fashion scene since 2019, she runs Pasar Hitam and Harajukuintersex — two stores focused on vintage, designer, and J-fashion pieces. With a background in styling and a love for arts, music, and community, she’s also been organising her own pop-ups and underground music events since 2024.
When did you first find out about Visual Kei?
I first discovered Visual Kei when I was 18, while thrifting and getting into the fashion scene. After finding a pair of bondage pants I really liked, and from that point on, I made it my mission to collect as many as I could. Through that, I got introduced to Japanese brands like Algonquins and Ozz On. Eventually, it inspired me to open a shop that reflected the style I was into.
What do you think people define as Visual Kei now?
Nowadays, people associate Visual Kei with grungy brands like IfSixWasNine, which was actually inspired by Jimi Hendrix. But originally, it stemmed from Japan’s punk and metal scene, with expressive fashion commonly seen in FRUiTS magazine. Personally, I don’t listen much to Visual Kei music, but I’m really into the fashion side of it.
Do you think there are misconceptions or changes in Visual Kei now?
I wouldn’t say there are major misconceptions—more that people view it differently now. I see it as a style evolution. If someone still wants to dress in the original, core Visual Kei way, they should. And if people prefer the current look that’s all over social media that’s valid too. It’s really just personal preference. That said, I do agree that today’s version doesn’t fully represent what Visual Kei originally was.
Do you think it’s okay to wear Visual Kei fashion without being into the music?
Yes, I think it’s fine—fashion is a form of self-expression. Some discover the style before the music, and that’s valid. But if you care about the subculture, learning about the music adds depth. In the end, it’s all personal.
Hearing both sides made me reconsider how I was framing this shift. While it’s easy to focus on what feels missing — the intensity, theatrical flair, and ties to music — styles naturally evolve, and what some see as mischaracterisation might be a way for others to express themselves differently. I don’t think subcultures should stay frozen in time, but it’s worth recognising the roots of what we’re referencing. Today’s “Vkei-inspired” looks often feel more shaped by algorithms and archive culture than by the music and performance that defined Visual Kei at its height. Truth is, I don’t have anything against the current style Visual Kei presents — in fact, I am a fan of it, I just believe we should be cautious and curious about labeling something when we’re not entirely sure what to call it. Recognising that doesn’t take away from the style; it adds more depth to the discussion.
Once you are done with this story, click here to catch up with our latest issue.