Porter and I somewhat spontaneously popped to Japan back in
November. In an incredible turn of fate, just days after we got back, the
editors at the beautiful magazine, Man of the World, called looking for a few
extra impressions of Tokyo. I got to contribute a few points and you can read
the whole city guide here (or better yet, get a real copy of the mag. It's
wonderful).
Miraculously, I've finally managed to cobble together a few
extra bits, bobs and peeks into our 18-year Yamazaki, noodle and BBQ laden
adventures there and through Kyoto.
(This gem above was parked next to the main canal that runs
through Kyoto. How great are the license plates?).
Recycling, I suppose? This order just would never happen in
New York. Ever.
Porter, pretty tall and pretty spiffy in her
Madeline-inspired Carven hat that she picked up at Dover Street Market in
Ginza.
The Japanese know how to make many things very well:
selvedge denim, French pastries, whiskey...and taxicabs. They're reminiscent of
something from Gattaca: boxy, with illuminated rooftop globes and rear view
mirrors on the sides of the hood constructed from something most Japanese or
American consumers haven’t seen on an automobile since the early ’80s: chrome.
The white-gloved drivers don't speak English, but they do place stretchy,
spotless, granny-ish, white lace seat covers over the front seats at the beginning
of each shift when they presumably scour the entire car as if they’re cleaning
up a crime scene.
The fish and veg markets will blow your mind. Dried fish,
bleeding fish, swimming fish; pickled veggies, gigantic veggies, exotic
veggies.
Roots.
Me, in semi-absurd hipster glasses from Opening Ceremony
(which is absolutely ginormous there. Eight floors! Humberto Leon and Carol Lim
are deservedly taking over the world).
Store after store along the Jingumae shopping thoroughfare
in Shibyua offers up racks of vintage Levi’s, bomber jackets and Navy gear – or
precise replicas that often surpass the original models. Journal Standard’s J.S.
Homestead (6-18-14 Jingumae, Shibuya-ku, Tokyo) offers a mix of both, along
with vintage silver and turquoise Navajo jewelry, dead stock plimsolls and the
best of likeminded brands like Nigel Cabourn (which also has its own shop in
Nakameguro).
After a while, though, the ubiquitous perfect taste in
Pendleton blankets, down jackets and American work wear-inspired raw denim, may leave some foreigners hankering for something a bit more
rough and, certainly, more local. For this, try to stumble upon one of the many
weekend flea markets that pop up in parking lots and temple grounds in and
outside of the city. While the wares will vary, seek out the one or two vendors
selling scraps of old Japanese indigo dye fabric. They conveniently tend to cut
these beautiful patterns into swatches the size of a scarf – and no matter what
the print – will look perfect paired with anything from a shawl collared
sweater to tweeds to a waxed Barbour Bedale.
Modern copies don’t hold a candle to the originals, which look even
better with holes, raw stringy edges and uneven dye patterns.
I thought a drive up the Taconic in late October was
impressive. But you haven't experienced autumn leaves until you've seen Kyoto
in November. This is the view from the bridge at the Tofukuji temple.
The flea markets are also a goldmine for vintage kimonos.
Some are pricey, but you can get incredible hand made ones for under $20. We
bought 12. That may have been going too far, but they've already been great for
parties.
Tokyo's Tsukiji fish market is the stuff of legend. Tuna the
price of gold, excessive carnage, samurai swords. It's all completely awesome.
Here's Port at the Brick, a lovely 1950s whisky bar in
Ginza.
Function on display at Shibuya Station.
FOOD on display at Shibuya Station. Anyone even remotely
interested in culinary arts and package design should hunker down in the
station basement at the Tokyu Food Show hall. It's as close to an exotic,
staggeringly beautiful adult version of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory that
any human could imagine. There are enough French pastries (notably from the
Japanese, bakery-only outpost of Paris’ legendary cafe, Les Deux Magots) there
to undo an entire vacation of sashimi consumption. Miles of display cases hold
gourmet chocolates and mochi bean curd treats shaped into elaborate pieces of
art that seem too precious to touch, let alone chew.
Even the playgrounds there are perfect. Noguchi could've
designed that slide.
For the life of us, we couldn't understand why someone would
want to consume such an itty bitty amount of beer!
