Into the future with Kaihara
When it comes to denim mills, it is common enough to think that experienced human eyes and hands are involved in the making of great denim fabrics. Can you imagine a mill without any humans? Your fabrics made by robots? If not, read on, and join me on a trip to Kaihara Denim.
The name Kaihara should no doubt be familiar. It manufactures denim and selvedge denim fabrics that are surprisingly cost-competitive for goods made in Japan. Its accessible prices have made Kaihara one of Uniqlo’s global partners. The Japanese retailer has very successfully and astutely marketed them. You might have seen, fitted or even own a pair of Uniqlo jeans cut in a Kaihara selvedge denim fabric, for they are sold at incredibly tempting prices.
Kaihara’s fabrics are also chosen by many premium denim brands across the world, including Nudie Jeans and Edwin. Brands are mostly, and noticeably, quite happy to highlight the origin of the fabric they use to make their jeans from, all the more so if they can proudly proclaim that the fabric is “made in Japan, by Kaihara Denim”. Few mills have achieved such a level of desirability amongst a broad following of denim lovers.
It is said that Kaihara has a domestic market share of 50%. This means that every second pair of jeans sold and worn in Japan is made from a denim fabric made by the mill. Simply amazing. With this in mind, you can begin to imagine the size of Kaihara Denim’s factories, as there are more than one.
But first let’s catch up on our history lessons. Businesses in Japan are often family affairs, and so it is with Kaihara. The Hiroshima-based company began selling indigo “bingo-kasuri” cloth in 1893. If you are not familiar with bingo-kasuri, it is a soft, ancient and traditional Japanese fabric that is woven so as to store air inside its weave, which makes it cool to wear in summer and warm in winter. The fabric is woven on very slow wooden shuttle-looms, and often has an ikat texture. Kaihara became famous for its indigo bingo-kasuri fabrics.
The company began manufacturing denim fabrics in the 1960s. The fully integrated mill covers all operations from spinning to finishing. It sources its cotton from the United States, Australia and Brazil. Today the company sells its denim fabrics to more than 30 countries. These are made in one of the four different plants it operates in Japan.
Not so long ago I had the chance to meet Yoshi Kaihara personally. I was introduced to him in a typical old-fashioned hot-pot restaurant in Hiroshima. He said to me, “tomorrow I will show you something surprisingly new”. The next day, I was extremely eager to see what Mr Kaihara says is “surprisingly new”. It was a cold winter day in the city, and considering my jetlag, not easy to wake up early. When I first saw the factory, it resembled what I thought was a huge trade-fair ground with massive exhibition halls. Very clean and very grey. Mr Kaihara was waiting for us, excited like a kid, wearing his US-style five-panel denim cap. This is when he told me he had built a plant with fully 100% robotised spinning, weaving and finishing units.
Only six people manage the robots that manufacture denim fabrics in the hundreds of thousands of yards per month (or so, this number may not be fully accurate, as I said, it was damn cold, very early and my jetlag was no help). Suffice it to say that the factory is huge, and the stock of denim fabrics in the warehouse more than massive. I immediately took out my camera, but Mr Kaihara gently told me, “no images at all”. This will be the first Factory Talk I write for Inside Denim with no photos to show the inside of the plant.
But let me tell you: when I entered the operational area, I felt like I was “beamed up” into a Star Trek episode. The floor was clean and shiny, nicely painted. No dust, no waste, no sign of any work in progress. At first glance, there was no one around. Not a single worker. Bright lights, spick and span cleanliness. Automated vehicles were driving around with orange flashing lights. Dr Spock, where are you?
As we walked around, the flashing automated vehicles would stop and wait until we moved away or crossed their tracks, and then continue with their tasks. The smaller vehicles would transport bobbins of cotton yarns, the heavier ones bolts of fabrics. And when I say, “heavier ones” think “truck-size”. Robots transport cotton bobbins to the spinning unit, install them on the machine while other vehicles could be seen transporting huge rolls of indigo warps. Big robot arms install these directly on the rapier weaving machines. I was impressed.
Normally a hall of rapier weaving machines is very noisy. But here, it felt soft and nearly quiet, all in perfect harmony. The six engineers could be seen walking discreetly around the units, checking the robots to make sure everything was going smoothly.
This is the future. A future without my friends, my fellow human beings. I felt I had stepped into a time tunnel. It is difficult to imagine what this factory will look like the next time I visit it. This is the future of denim. You have my full respect, Mr Kaihara.
Skeins of hand-dyed indigo yarns at Sakamoto Denim.
PHOTO: Tilmann Wröbel
