Inside Genshiro Kawamoto’s Mansion

Three girls move through the ruins of Genshiro Kawamoto’s abandoned mansion, their presence a quiet echo in a space that has long since forgotten what it means to be alive. Marble statues still stand, frozen in an eerie elegance, but the walls have given way to decay—crumbling under the weight of time and neglect. Graffiti scars the surface, a crude reminder that even grandeur is not immune to erasure.

This editorial unfolds like a fragmented memory. Within the wreckage, remnants of a past life remain. And butterflies—hundreds of them, lifeless on the ground. Probably strays from a nearby farm, now as much a part of the ruin as the shattered chandeliers and broken furniture. Some are gathered, woven into the models’ hair and outfits, a fragile tribute to beauty persisting despite its surroundings.

The concept explores the unraveling of connection—three figures entwined in a narrative of loss, separation, and the quiet yearning to reclaim what has slipped away. One model, dressed in structured designs by Karin Tsujino and armor pieces by Sho Konishi, embodies an almost surreal elegance, mirroring the mansion’s original opulence. The others contrast her presence, dressed in distressed knitwear and layered fabrics that speak of wear and passage.

Genshiro Kawamoto once built his properties as monuments to wealth and permanence, yet they stand now as monuments to something else entirely—abandoned ambition, forgotten intentions, a history interrupted. The editorial leans into this duality. It does not seek to rebuild or romanticize but instead captures the poetry of ruin: the destruction of something once whole, the pain of its absence, and the longing to find a way back, even when the path no longer exists.