The outlandish and vibrant fashionistas of Tokyo move forward at such a pace that it's almost impossible to document them without instantly falling out of date. However, there are a number of groups – tribes, or "kei" in Japanese – that have managed to evolve while staying relatively true to their origins. Members of these tribes can number into the hundreds of thousands, though more commonly they reach a few thousand youngsters before disappearing entirely.

Many kei can be traced back to the Harajuku district, at the centre of which is Takeshita Dori, a street that is to Tokyo what Carnaby Street was once to London (only with added dayglo cuteness), and this should be the first destination for any determined follower of fashion.
Here are a selection of the tribes that you would have a hard time missing on any trip to the Japanese capital.

The Rollers of Yoyogi Park

Before we begin, let's get one thing straight. These guys aren't rockabillies, even though they might look old enough to have witnessed Gene Vincent in his heyday. They prefer to be known as "Roller-Zoku" (the Roller Family), and they take the business of dancing to old rock'n'roll numbers very seriously indeed (on Saturday and Sunday afternoons, near the gates of Yoyogi Park, without fail). It is thought that the Roller-Zoku have been a part of the Yoyogi furniture since the early 1990s, when a rockabilly revival swept parts of Japan. With their receding hairlines bullied into thinning quiffs, they may not look particularly threatening, but woe betide anyone who tries to join their antiquated dance. Simply do as the massed crowds surrounding them do: watch agog, but from a safe distance.

Dolly Kei

On the border of the Harajuku and Shibuya district, you'll find Grimoire, a fanciful clothing and accessories shop that sits at the centre of the Dolly Kei movement. Followers dress in what might be described as a Tokyo take on Ye Olde Europe, favouring velvets, silks and rich embroidery. Think Little Bo Peep meets Hans Christian Anderson on a set imagined by Hayao Miyazaki, and you might be somewhere close to the mindspace inhabited by the brothers and sisters Grimoire. Having surfaced in 2010, seemingly as the subject of a series of blogs that surrounded the shop itself, the Dollies have survived long enough to be seen as genuine contenders – quite a feat in the transient world of Tokyo fashion.

Lolita Kei

Japanese tribes may be a disparate bunch, but at some point in each development cycle, one word is guaranteed to surface: kawaii. If it's kawaii (cute) it sells, and no fashion typifies it more readily than the dubiously titled Loli Kei (Lolita tribe). The Lolis decorate themselves in a riot of pinks, frills, bonnets, aprons and shepherds' crooks – there's enough fairyland fantasy here to make Barbie turn away in disgust. The fashion has been flirting with the mainstream for more than a decade, but the unexpected twists in its journey have kept it interesting (see below).

Gosurori

Gosurori is an amalgamation of two non-Japanese words, gosu being the Japanese pronunciation of the English word goth, and rori, an abbreviated version of the name Lolita. To become a respectable Gosurori, take the previously discussed Lolita outfit, dye it black, edge it with pristine, snow-white lace and apply makeup to match. The Gosuroris have been a part of the Harajuku scene since the late 1990s, and it is thought their existence may owe something to the cross-pollination of the Lolita tribe and the now defunct Visual Kei movement that took its inspiration from Japanese hair metal bands like Glay and L'Arc En Ciel, both phenomenally successsful in the mid-90s. A more disturbing set of love children it is hard to imagine.

Harajuku Kei

The Harajuku district is where it all begins for the majority of Tokyo's tribes – so many, in fact, that the Japanese press occasionally refer to the local fashionistas under the umbrella term, Harajuku Kei. In its current form, it appears as though the members have simply woken up, stepped out of bed and been attacked by a variety of brightly coloured and frequently clashing clothes. Homemade and swapped accessories play a huge part, and nobody does this hodgepodge style as well as 19-year-old Kyary Pamyu Pamyu, a young woman who appeared on Takeshita Street in 2010 as a fashion-obsessed high school blogger, and is now the face of her own brand. She sings too, after a fashion, and she'll be performing at the O2 Academy Islington, in London, on 13 February, though tickets are scarce.

Gyaru Kei

Longtime observers of Japanese fashion will recall the Ganguro tribe, a frightening army of teenagers who teased their hair into tight afros and wore blackface at weekends. While they have long since expired, the gyaru ("gal") gangs that sprang up in their place are still a fixture on the Shibuya scene. Essentially fashion-conscious, late-teenage women, their look is defined by a kind of glam sassiness – sculpted hair, lavish but precise makeup and mini skirts. Ironically, given the fashion's ancestral roots, the latest incarnation (as dictated by tribal style bible, Egg Magazine) demands that the faithful gyaru whitens her skin. It doesn't come much more high maintenance than this.

Gyaru-Oh

Whatever the Gyarus can do, the Gyaru-Ohs can do better. Occasionally known as the Host Kei, these fellas spend as much time in front of the mirror as their female counterparts do, and the resulting ultra-effeminate look makes their Gyaru-Oh moniker fairly apt (the phrase can be translated as "Girl Men"). Such is the strength and number of their tribe that they, too, have been awarded their own tribal bible, the proudly named Mens' Egg, which has a circulation of approximately 300,000 nationwide readers, and has even spawned a secondary publication for older Gyaru-Ohs called Men's Knuckle (circulation 200,000). The Gyaru-Oh's are a very striking force to be reckoned with.

Kitakore Kei

Like the Dolly Kei crowd, the relatively new Kitakore Kei have their own spiritual home, this time in the Koenji district. And what a lowly shed it is, too. The Kitakore Building is a tumbledown shop that looks as though it pays bully-money to the elements just to stay in existence, but this is entirely in keeping with the stock that the crowd flocks in to purchase. As a fashion, it is as random as the Harajuku Kei style, but without the bubblegum aesthetic. Punk seems too harsh a word, though it does share the DIY ethic. Most recently, the tribal manifesto has been described by a local editor as "everyday something new", and this seems as accurate as you might ever hope to get.

Otaku

As any self-respecting web denizen will tell you, the otaku are no longer bound within Japan's borders. Sometimes defined as a form of geek chic, the fashionable wing of this subculture is occasionally referred to as Akiba Kei (named after the district it originated from, Akihabara), but in its nascent form Otaku seemed more like the unlucky hand of fate than a fashion statement. Common to tribe members old and young was a kind of dysfunctional existence spent living vicariously through the windows of a comic book, and a fanatical devotion to manufactured pop groups such as the phenomenally successful, 48-member-strong girl group, AKB48. As if the international reach of this seemingly bedroom-bound subculture needed demonstrating any further, there are now AKB48 franchises as far south as Singapore (SKG48).

Cosplay

The lot of a Cosplayer is invariably lived out in a blue wig and chintzy fabric. Theirs is a life spent in the dressing up box, determined to approximate the look of their favourite anime character, although – like the world of the otaku – it is no longer confined to Japan. Perhaps not as prominent as it once was in its home country, and certainly without the original novelty factor, there are still fanatics to be found, and you're guaranteed a photo opportunity in the Odaiba district during the weekend of the annual Tokyo Game Show, when the costumes on display are constructed with minute attention to detail and maximum pride.

Itasha

As a tribe, the gangs of itasha drivers are increasingly less visible in the capital – ironic, given what they're known for. The word itasha refers to the cars they drive rather than the people themselves, and is a mashup of the words itai (painful) and sha (vehicle). The pain described is derived either from looking at the cars themselves, or from the embarrassment of having to drive one – it really depends on who you ask. Increasingly found out in the sticks, these "pain cars" can be spotted several miles off, commonly driven in small groups, usually decked out in lurid colours, sculpted attachments, and the kind of soft-focus imagery not seen in the west since the Athena poster company went out of business. A colleague recently discovered an Itasha graveyard on the southern island of Kyushu, suggesting that the tribe's days are numbered. Spot them while you still can.