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Raph Lao’s fashion archaeology

For many of us, a good vintage find is a source of pride, but for Raph Lao, the feeling runs much deeper. As the founder of Sonnyboy Vintage and a seasoned traveler, Lao has a knack for pieces that will make their way into his wardrobe or on his shelves—a critical faculty he’s been honing since childhood.

While we consumers have all observed the boom in vintage clothing and a growing interest in circular fashion, Lao was one of the first to arrive at the scene. His passion for all things vintage began as a young boy traveling with his father across Canada and the United States, where he developed a lasting infatuation with rugged American culture.

Unlike the boys he knew who were obsessed with Ferraris and Lamborghinis, Lao would only turn his head for something more raw and robust: the growl of a Harley-Davidson motorcycle or the roar of an American muscle car.

His discernment has only sharpened since then. In conversation with him at Signet Mitsukoshi, he walks me through his journey with vintage fashion and demonstrates the depth of his storytelling sensibilities.

Lao would attest to what clothing can communicate about a person.

Beyond machismo

Lao would attest to what clothing can communicate about a person. It’s the story not just of who they are, but how they wish to be perceived. Within one’s fashion choices is a complex interaction between the self and their environment.

“It’s so funny, sometimes I’d feel like a stereotype, you know, like leather jacket, boots… you know, I have a mustache. But I think, [for me, it’s really more of a feeling,]” he shares.

The feeling he describes is very specific—it ranges from memories with his father, the beloved cartoon characters of his youth, and his favorite color as a child. While his personal style may be associated with a masculine bravado, a profundity articulates itself in his presence. His appreciation for vintage pieces transcends insentience; it breathes life into everything he touches.

“A leather jacket ages as you use it,” he explains. “You go on a motorcycle trip, you travel anywhere in the world, you have that jacket. It’s with you in pictures; it’s with you in the moments that you get lost exploring a city… You come home, you hang that thing up, you look at that [leather jacket], and you remember where you’ve been with it.”

“When you hold vintage garments, like vintage denim, they don’t even feel like what we’re weating, you know,” says Lao

Priceless pieces

Simply by loving what he loves, Lao has assumed a multitude of roles—seller, storyteller, and ultimately, steward. What is revealed upon further conversation with him is the reverence and humility with which he handles his vintage pieces.

Lao doesn’t believe in letting things rot on their shelves, but he is particular about what he selects from his closet. Often, he opts for vintage reproductions.

“I choose to wear vintage reproductions for [my everyday] because I have a lot of respect for vintage garments. And when you hold vintage garments, like vintage denim, they don’t even feel like what we’re wearing, you know. They start to feel almost like pajamas,” he explains.

His work fundamentally revolves around facilitating a process of appreciation. As he tirelessly scours through vintage stores across the world, he unearths a previously buried past and ushers it into the future. Sometimes, those pieces are far too special for the day-to-day.

“An item passes a certain point where I start to appreciate it as art,” he shares.

Staying true to what matters

Lao’s inclinations have drastically changed since his early days as a collector. He no longer takes pleasure in excess; instead, he focuses his attention on items he actually uses.

“Like any other collector, collecting them all excites me. But I’ve reached a point with watches, and I’ve reached a point with clothes where collecting all of something and having six of the same thing in front of you is no longer appealing,” he shares.

He is guided by a rule he has set for himself: If a given garment can make someone else happier than it makes him, he will sell it for the right price. For him, it’s not about making a sale; it’s about serving a greater purpose.

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For him to be so discerning with what he buys and sells, he has to be in tune with his emotions. It’s a tall task, but he urges everyone to take on the challenge. When friends and clients express a desire for one of his items, he is unlike most sellers in that he doesn’t encourage them to buy it right away. Instead, he implores them to take it home first, to sit with it before finalizing the purchase.

“If you really like it, I’m sure you won’t let it pass by,” he says.

Learning to let go

Lao understands that any transaction will involve a form of remorse. While buyers’ remorse is a more well-known phenomenon, he often experiences acute sellers’ remorse.

“There are many things that I wish I didn’t have to sell. There are so many things I wish I could keep. [But] the joy in it is finding it. The joy in it is holding it in my hand, seeing these little details and just, you know, being glad that [you] found it and passing it on.”

Loving anything will always be a bittersweet reminder of one’s own mortality. Lao believes in embracing this feeling. He knows his collection will outlive him; he can only hope that it’ll be reacquired with care.

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