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I can’t believe that I had never visited Tokyo. I had sort of put it off, waiting for a good reason to make the 15-hour journey from NYC. If you care about virtually anything— American vintage clothing, limited edition candy, watches, books, anime, coffee, or simply quiet, orderly living with excellent public transportation—it is billed to you as the motherland. The holy grail where you can find whatever your consumerist heart desires. The US dollar is strong, the yen is weak, and Auralee, Comoli, and A.Presse are cheap. Many of my friends and colleagues visit a few times a year; they have to purchase an extra suitcase while there to accommodate their massive hauls.
I boarded my flight with no plan. I didn’t ask any friends or locals for their Google map populated with hundreds of tiny dots that would lead me to the best pizza I’ve ever had or a store that sells only a wide variety of plain white t-shirts. For some reason, I didn’t care. I usually do a little research before I head to a new city, but with Tokyo, I decided to let go and let god. It was too much to think about. After a whole week of trekking all over town, I am still not sure if I made the right decision.
I was staying at the JW Marriott, a beautiful new hotel situated in a slightly out-of-the-way part of town in an area called Takanawa Gateway, which is decidedly less sexy than Shibuya or Ginza. But the train was steps away from the front door. I had a simple routine: wake up, work out with a view of the city from the gym on the 28th floor, have eggs for breakfast, and then hit the streets. I was acutely aware of my height and how much space I took up. The train was silent, and I tried to take up as little space as possible; listening to music on my headphones even felt like too much. The cleanliness, the silence, and the calm really struck me. I could sit on the train and think or daydream, and I instantly felt less pressure to scroll. The extreme time difference didn’t hurt. The commuting was one of my favorite parts of the trip.
Everyone I have ever met wasn’t lying; the shopping is unbelievable. The sheer amount of what’s available is staggering, and after schlepping around for days to dig through perfectly organized racks of vintage Ralph Lauren button-downs and full walls of vintage collegiate Champion reverse-weave crewnecks, I was spent. It wasn’t just the jet lag; I was overwhelmed. I thought I liked shopping, but this trip put it to the test. After visiting five excellent BEAMS stores, poking my head into multiple Chrome Hearts locations, and digging through piles of vintage band T-shirts I had only seen on Instagram, I was starting to lose my focus. Browsing various floors of Tower Records with no intent to purchase felt like a salve. On my first night, my friend Brooks was in town and took me to a lovely, easygoing sushi restaurant that the local folks at Asics had recommended, and I went back three times solo. I was so tired of choosing and exploring that the simplicity of taking off my shoes and sitting down with an iPad to place my order in a place that had become familiar felt good. I even had an Asahi 0.0 with my tamago.
AloJapan.com