The Real Poetry
A rare sight in Tokyo -- a nearly empty subway car!
For larger photo, click here.
This is the middle of the day -- notice how clean the car is, and it's not just this car . . . they all look like this, with shining floors and spotless windows.
And here's a photo of a shop exterior in a residential neighborhood. We were on our way to the Contemporary Art Museum (MOT) and the red lanterns caught my eye.
The Japanese must have a colder running body temperature than Western people, because everywhere we go, we feel like we're in a sauna. The department stores are hot, the hotels are hot, the museums are hot, the coffee shops are hot, the restaurants are hot, the subways are hot (especially the subways!) -- we're peeling off our coats and mopping our foreheads, yet everyone else around us is bundled up in furs, hats, scarves, overcoats and gloves.
And no one wears sunglasses. It's weird. The December sun is glaringly bright in my eyes, even with my sunglasses on, yet the Japanese around us seem not to notice. We get a lot of quizzical looks as we walk down the street in our faded, beat-up jeans, t-shirts, overcoats and sunglasses. Dark denim and black clothing from head to toe is de rigueur, unless you happen to be a teenager, then it's anything goes.
Speaking of which, we went shopping in Harajuku today because I wanted to see if I could find something for my teenage niece, a sweet young girl who lives in Virginia -- but I had a really difficult time finding anything appropriate, as the majority of choices for young women revolved around extreme heavy-metal punk, or sexed-up slut princess. I finally snagged a black zip-up hoodie that was more funky than slutty.
Here's a photo of the front:
"Surprising touches like a lemony yellow scent jelly beans"
And here's a photo of the back:
"An image overhaul during the last few years has transformed her from the super-girl next door into a screen siren worthy for rap star love . . . "
Fuck Yeats. Japanese teenage fashion is where you find the real poetry.