Tomo Jidai: Hair is Music in Motion

Across countries and decades, hair stylist Tomo Jidai has developed a language that stays in motion. Shaped by proximity to his subject at hand and an instinct for when to intervene and when to leave something untouched, his work carries traces of the spaces where he’s lived. Tokyo’s density, London’s experimentation, and New York’s velocity, folding them into images that feel immediate but never fixed. His approach moves with the shifts in fashion itself, from constructed identity toward something more open, more lived-in. Within that space, hair becomes a point of contact: shaping the emotional register of an image while holding room for chance, texture, and time. What emerges is less a finished composition than something still unfolding - where the image is only one part of it all.

PHOTOGRAPHER MARI SARAI @saraimari724
INTERVIEW JESPER GUDBERGSEN @yessirjesper
MODELS AMELIE KEYSER, AURORA DELACRUZ, ELOUISE BRAEUTIGAM, REI JIDAI

You’ve described fashion shoots as “session work” - closer to music than image-making.
When does a shoot actually click for you? What does that moment feel like?
My career started in London. When I began working as an assistant, I first heard people refer to shoots as “photo sessions.” It reminded me of when I was a student playing in a band with friends. I would casually start playing something on the guitar, then the bass would come in, the drums would join, and before I knew it, a groove had formed.

It feels very similar on set. Of course there is direction, but in the moment, the atmosphere creates space for improvisation. As a hairstylist, I might casually play with a model’s bangs, and the photographer might say, “That’s great.” Then someone else adds, “Let’s go with this makeup,” and the styling shifts too. What starts as a small spark gradually builds, layer by layer—like different sounds coming together—until it becomes a strong, cohesive groove.

It’s in those moments, when someone’s spontaneous idea becomes the catalyst and leads the entire team to an unexpectedly powerful image, that something truly special happens.


Your work moves between extremes, sometimes almost invisible, sometimes character-defining. How do you decide when hair should disappear, and when it should take over?
I usually start by discussing the theme with the stylist and photographer in advance. From there, I think about what kind of character or persona we want to create, and that becomes the foundation for defining the hair.

At the same time, the set is a living, evolving environment. When I see the talent in person, sometimes they already carry a strong, believable presence, and in those cases, I may choose to leave things as they are. Overworking the hair can risk losing that natural individuality and authenticity.

It’s in those moments, when someone’s spontaneous idea becomes the catalyst and leads the entire team to an unexpectedly powerful image, that something truly special happens.

There’s a tension in your work between precision and looseness. Do you trust control more, or instinct?
I think both 

You started in Tokyo, shaped your career in London, and are now based in New York.
What did each city teach you - not technically, but culturally - about hair?

It’s a bit difficult to define it purely in cultural terms.

First of all, the time periods were different. When I was in Tokyo, it was still the ’90s, and Tokyo’s street fashion culture was just starting to take off. Everything felt layered and mixed, and that’s where I really learned how important hair is within each fashion movement.

I lived in London from the late ’90s until 2014. During that time, the fashion scene there was also very vibrant. In the areas I spent time in, people would go all out with their style just to get into the best parties on the weekends. There was a strong culture of transformation—people really constructed their looks. I also grew alongside that scene through my work on shoots, so being able to see, hear, and feel so many different styles and perspectives had a huge impact on me.

New York, on the other hand, is incredibly busy, energetic, and competitive. It always felt like you had to keep running and stay sharp. But recently, with the rise of wellness culture—and personally, I go to the sauna five times a week—I’ve started thinking more about hair care. I’m interested in whether it’s possible to combine styling with treatment at the same time.

Right now, I’m in the process of developing my own line with that idea in mind.

Hair is often treated as the finishing touch, but your work suggests it can shift the entire narrative. Do you see hair as structure, or as emotion?
It could be both. I think it’s all about balance.

In New York, you’ve spoken about the beauty of imperfection - texture, oil, irregularity.
Why do you think “undone” feels more honest right now?
For a long time, fashion and beauty have pursued a sense of “completion” — a controlled, perfected ideal. But now, in reaction to that, people are drawn to something more real — something that carries a sense of personal story and lived experience. In slightly disheveled textures or imperfect finishes, you can see a person’s time, their individuality.

At the same time, the overwhelming presence of highly edited imagery through digital platforms and social media has played a big role. Precisely because everything feels so filtered, textures that feel untouched, or movements that happen by chance, come across as more authentic. An “undone” style may appear effortless, but in reality, it’s one of the closest expressions of someone’s true self.

There’s also a stronger cultural shift toward valuing individuality. Instead of uniform standards of beauty, there’s a growing acceptance of differences and personal quirks. Within that, hair that isn’t overly styled becomes a way of showing someone as they are.

In the end, “undone” isn’t just an aesthetic — it reflects an attitude toward honesty and reality.

You emphasize care as the foundation of styling.
How do you reconcile the damage often required for fashion imagery with the idea of long-term hair health?
As time progresses, people’s appearance has become increasingly youthful.
This is largely due to advances in medicine and scientific technology. With hybrid haircare products, we can enhance the hair’s ability to repair itself. And with the latest dryers and irons, it’s now possible to straighten or curl hair at much lower temperatures than before. Because of this, we’re able to significantly improve the overall quality of the hair.

In the end, “undone” isn’t just an aesthetic — it reflects an attitude toward honesty and reality.

Tell me more about your upcoming zine with your wife, photographer Mari Sarai - and the images you did for this story with her
I have a family - my wife, Mari, who is a photographer, and our teenage son, Rei.

During COVID, I was commissioned to create a hair story for a project. The original idea was to style hair on mannequins, but that felt too conventional to me. Instead, I decided to style Rei’s hair — he was eight at the time — and have Mari photograph him on the terrace of our apartment. That was the beginning.

From there, as Rei grew, Mari and I wanted to continue photographing him and his friends — marking moments like graduating elementary school, finishing middle school, and entering high school. As the frequency of these shoots increased, Mari began to think: why not create zines for each stage of their teenage years, and eventually compile them into a body of work that follows them until the end of teenage.

Rei is now studying at LaGuardia High School and Alvin Ailey, training to become a professional dancer.

I myself dropped out of high school and feel that I left my youth unfinished. Because of that, I’ve always been drawn to youth — to the unique brilliance, fragility, fleetingness, and emotional volatility that only exists in that period of life. I wanted to Mari to capture those moments, she is very talented captured momentum and express them through hair.

We’re planning to hold a publication event in May 29th at Blankmag Books NYC, 17 Eldridge st 

You’ve said hair contributes to character within an image.
What makes a character believable to you?
For me, a character becomes believable when nothing feels forced.

After more than two decades in the industry, what still surprises you on set?
When the team’s imagination aligns —
and the immediacy that emerges from it.

If you stripped everything back - no references, no brief, no expectations -
What does your idea of “perfect hair” look like today?

Come out of shower and towel dry and shake your head 
That’s it!

@TOMOJIDAI