[Well he sure doesn't feel intimidated at aaaall by what he's seeing in here. Totally not. He'd probably have more room to be impressed by it if he wasn't worried about his state of being, but that's neither here nor there.

Karamatsu blinks, taking the sketchbook carefully like something reverent, trying to be mindful of his claws as he looks through it. He feels a swell of relief when it appears to be of a style he's at least familiar with...nothing entirely too western, even though he's got a love for that style as well, clearly.

Again. So very far out of Karamatsu's league that he feels like he might faint on the spot, at least until he's asked another question.]

I feel...the most important thing is, ah...expressing one's self. I would want to make something that I would feel confident wearing as much as I would want to sell it for someone else to enjoy. Everything must have one's own...unique style.

[He feels like he's just babbling nervously at this point, but it's the truth. He just...he knows a lot of people hate the clothes he likes. He isn't stupid. So after seeing how high-brow all of THIS is, it really just...makes him wish he hadn't come.

There's a difference between expressing yourself and just taking pleasure in wearing some hideous things without shame.]