Denim on Shop: The shopper rehab programme

It is terribly difficult to have to write about shopping when one of my resolutions this year is to do the exact opposite. Ok, I don't mean cold turkey but my goal is to shop less. Much, much less. I have that resolution in writing, taped to the kitchen wall. This is a big commitment coming from a girl who cannot help herself by constantly scanning the retail environment, even while conversing with others or while wiping up baby milk spit.

Shopping is instinctive to me. I sound like a manic consumerist and am sadly so. Even the simple joy of window shopping can make my day. Likewise, the simple act of being made to walk away from a sale item breaks my heart. (The husband intervention.) I am also well-known in the family for my famous line, "I smell the city!" complete with a long inhale of the stinky air rolling in from the car window as we cruise through Shibuya (one of the shopping havens in Tokyo). You get the idea.

Being deprived of shopping in Tokyo is like fasting when it's Chinese New Year. It's terribly unfair when you are surrounded by temptation. But perhaps describing the Tokyo shopping experience can help me purge the shopping withdrawal symptoms.

1) New Year Sales

The biggest sale in Tokyo is the New Year's Sales. Before my kid was born, the 2nd of Jan was like Christmas Day shopping for myself. The malls slash up to 70% on price tags, they have big wagons of nice things at prices I can finally afford. There is a big boom of retail spirit with cashiers ringing to counter the somber quiet of the cultural New Year spirit at home. They also have my favorite 'fukubukuro' which is a 'lucky bag' of mixed items concealed but priced very cheaply at US$10/30/50/100. (They call it Happy Price- another gimmick to lure a sucker like me.) The strategy is to buy them at stores you frequent so you don't end up with things you won't want. I am always tempted to try my luck at them but the husband always stops me from buying 'mysterious garbage'.

A fukubukuro and it's contents

SALE- need I say more?

2) The Welcome Service

As much as the incessant high-pitched nasal sirens of 'Irashaiimasen' (welcome in Japanese) annoys me, I have come to enjoy this robotic greeting. It feels nice to be acknowledged as a potential customer. It feels very democratic that they are not discriminating against this sorry-looking mom-daughter pair who appears to be in disarray.

A bevy of beautiful sirens

3) The Wrapping Service

At cashiers of most reputable stores, the staff would always ask if you are purchasing the item for home use or as a gift. And no item is too small or too insignificant to be wrapped up lovingly. Yes, I have even tried to have them gift wrap a pack of black hair rubber bands I had bought for my daughter, simply because I felt like I was in the mood for some pampering and I fudged the truth about the gift bit. Well, it was for someone else wasn't it? Having my purchases wrapped up with soft paper or put in pretty gift boxes or sealed with a pretty sticker makes me feel like I have a Christmas present for myself everytime I shop. But these days, the eco conscience has gotten the better of me so I try to go without the wrapping frills lately.

See the beautiful fan knot on top of the silver bag? Plus an extra paper bag to bag that gift!

4) The Sales Staff

Speaking Japanese more these days has become more dangerous for a shopper like me. It means I am more able to engage and hold conversations with the shop staff. Before I used to say 'Wakarimasen' (I don't understand) and they smile and waltz away gracefully. Now, when they approach me with information about the dress I have gentle caressed between my fingers, I get to ask them more questions such as, 'do you have it in other colors?' Customer service in Japan is generally top class. They are quick to pick up things for you to match an item with and should you dare proceed into the fitting room, they are quick with compliments of how great you look in the item and listen attentively to why you are not too happy with it. (One word about the fitting rooms is that they expect you to take off your shoes to step inside and it is very inconvenient, especially during winter shopping when I have to keep a toddler on hand and take off long boots!) If it doesn't fit as you expected, they promptly go off and bring you two other pieces which might fit the bill. I have been conned more than once because I have succumbed to their friendly flattery. And it really helps that they are so well-groomed in a style that reflects the fashion point of view of the shop! It always make me feel like I am taking honest fashion advice from a fashionista or at least, a fashionista wannabe.

Spot the patient sales clerk standing on alert even before the shop opens

5) The Retail Look

They put a lot of effort in retail decor such that every shop looks unique and distinct. Because the marketplace is so congested, a lot of pain is put into the visual presentation of the shop and design consideration is taken at every angle you turn. This is not limited to top-end boutiques and also applies to the regular shops here. So there’s a lot of exciting eye candy around as everything is always fresh and new. The elaborate decor often looks like they have been sourced specifically such as an old European sewing machine or a life-sized stuffed baby giraffe.

A huge Kaws statue showcased right at the entrance of a shop called Original Fake. I have always wondered how they got that giant down to that basement level!

6) The Seasons

I love how the shops are always on trend but not homogenous looking. If puffy sleeves are in season, you can be sure to find them in varying materials, adornments, colors, and textures. You seldom worry about wearing something the same as the next girl on the street. Even if that should happen, you can be sure that the Japanese girls would mix and match and accessorize their apparels very differently. The seasons ensure that one continuously gets a refreshing sense of newness every time one shops. It is also a big driver for food and beverage sales. The Japanese market is known for releasing seasonal ‘limited edition’ flavors or packaging to entice customers so you are always spoilt for choice. How about that green tea Kit Kat or Hokkaido butter potato chips?

One snack, 3 different flavors for each region makes SIX 'limited edition' flavors

7) The Details

Even when shopping for an apple, the information displayed next to it tells you where it is grown and how sweet it would be and if they can, they describe the type of sweetness you can expect. (For example, sweet like honey or sweet with the right tartness.) For garments, some shops have tags on them that subtly outline the key-selling 'Point'. Perhaps it is special lambswool or a pearl button or a short write up of where the brand is from (England/Paris/Italy). A look at their fashion magazines can show you the lengths they take to differentiate between 10 similar but different cream cardigans. Or check out an online website like zozo.jp. Every question that might cross your mind is listed and if you are worried about the fit, they provide you the model's measurements for you to project how you might differ.

Different names for different apples but they must all be really sweet!

So you see, I have given you 7 good reasons to try out the shopping experience here in Tokyo for yourself. It is definitely overwhelming at first but it would trigger and expand your visual appetite in a way that nothing else would ever compare. I know that as my shopping cravings when I am back home has been cured! Haha.

Well, all this talk of shopping when I am on a 'diet' is making me very hungry. I think I would have to now go and satisfy my pangs by going to the supermarket to shop for some groceries. That's the real reason why I cook quite a bit these days. All that fresh food from the frequent marketing (read: shopping) has to be put to good use!

PS: I'd always thought Ms Gilbert was missing an important chapter and I am so glad this blog owner thought the same.

(Some pictures sourced from the internet)

Denim on Love: Love in translation

"You'd married the wrong girlfriend," is what I would exclaim to my husband sometimes.

Usually, it comes out as a joke but as the years go by, I realize how I still feel like a hot goreng pisang on a cold combini bento (prepacked lunch box from a convenience store). You see, although most of my teenage years were spent fantasizing about the world of J-pop with five girlfriends, I was the least clued in on the real culture that J-pop breeds on.

Bento shelves at a combini

To me, Japan was simply a lot of fun, fizz and neon lights in a foreign language that left blanks for my imagination to fill in. An alien planet where I could escape whenever I felt alone or misunderstood. A place to bury those growing pains. And, as with all things that time changes, my infatuation gradually faded to a distant admiration when I started at university. The once hormonally-driven feelings toward everything that popped out from the Land of the Rising Sun dissipated and in its place, I began to enjoy the rich and vibrant offerings of local hostel life complete with its midnight suppers of kopi-pengs (iced coffees). After that, I was thrown into the Anglo-culture of my ad agency and that led me further away from my teenage roots.

Meanwhile, three of those five J-pop crazy girlfriends remained loyal and became so deeply fascinated by the Japanese culture they'd actually taken courses in Japanese, lived in Japan on long cultural exchange programmes and picked up fluent Japanese. They are, in many ways, more Japanese than I am. And yet, they are the ones in Singapore whilst I am here in Tokyo.

I remember the first time I’d shared with my girlfriends about my Japanese then-boyfriend. It was met with gleeful excitement followed by, “Does he know other cute Japanese guys?” But the main concern amongst them was, “Can he speak English?” The Japanese are not known for their fluency in English and their form of broken English known as Japlish or Engrish (according to a popular website), has been the source of various amusing quotes. My most unforgettable and personal experience so far has to be from my previous workplace in Tokyo when the Japanese advertising creative team had a campaign that promised to ‘reflesh’ women with a new body shower product.

An example of a typical and fun Japanese phrase where they write like how they speak

As for the question about my husband’s English fluency, I am lucky in that so far, there hasn’t been any trouble on the communication front. Only when he uses dirty slangs he’s picked up from six years living in the New York borough of Queens. And his success is attributed to how he is someone who really tries to assimilate and immerse himself wholly to any new environment. He could even teach some really nasty Hokkien (Chinese dialect) within a year of living in Singapore.

However, my private joke with my husband is not really an exaggeration. He'd missed the odds. Sometimes, when I flirt with thoughts of fleeing this place, I start to feel a little guilty. Who else would give my other girlfriends an excuse to visit Tokyo once a year if I leave? Who else would incite loud stomach rumblings if not for my Facebook photos of glorious cuts of Yakiniku (Japanese BBQ of marbled beef)? Who else would tell people when the sales here start? Or scoff at the pseudo latest trends that magazines back home tout as Japanese? (Okay, maybe they are Japanese but they were from the last season. Or perhaps, just not from Tokyo?) I know people who would kill to take my place in the land of kawaii (cute) and kakkoi (cool).

Salivating yet?

But in dark times, those rhetorical questions appear frivolous. To live each day in a land where it conflicts with the Singaporean in me is a challenge and when it all adds up, I explode into my loud rants inside my closet-sized home they call mansions and entertain thoughts of digging a subway line all the way down to the equator.

"Why can't they simply give me the barbeque sauce?" a pregnant me wailed at Ma-Ku-Do-Na-Ru-Do (MacD) as I held onto my pack of fries that was getting soggy. (In Japan, unless you buy the McNuggets, they refuse to give you any of its sauces, even if you'd purchased the largest bag of food enough to feed four people. No amount of begging would faze their robotic auto-replies.)

"Why can't they simply change my drink?" a more pregnant me lamented as the waiter refused to allow me to have something else apart from the caffeinated drinks of the set menu. Isn't it easier to pour juice than to brew a cup of coffee?

"Why can't they have more escalators?" a going-to-pop-next-week me wept as I labored up the stairs out of the Shibuya subway. "How do the old people tahan this?" I wondered aloud and the next moment, I see a white-haired hunched-back old lady totter up twice as fast as me like a frisky hamster. (Tahan is Singaporean slang for “put up with.”)

Getting through this crowd is an emotional experience itself

I know that these all sound like petty complaints but the root of it is how Japan and I are just simply on two different ends of a personality scale. A psychology major friend explained to me that each country has her own personality profile and it is my lack of insight to not have figured out earlier that Japan is an introverted culture as opposed to my extroverted one. It is a stickler for abiding by process versus my flexible can-do attitude. And just these two conflicts alone make the chasm wide enough that after five years, I still haven't built a bridge to the other side.

So, how did I get here? Oh yes, the husband. A Japanese one to boot. Many plates of sushi ago, back when I was still easily satiated by the premium Singapore sushi restaurant, Sushi Tei, I met my husband. Then, after a short holiday with him in Tokyo, I boldly thought I could live here, explore my horizons and rejoiced at the opportunity to be IN JAPAN! That was me naively tapping back into my teenage state of mind. Bad idea. Wrong girlfriend.

This mistaken identity just kept snowballing down the rocky path into a really large onigiri (rice ball) filled with longings for sambal, durian and prawn mee. That is a combination that would burn any stomach and in my case, with a relationship in the mix, a tricky one to cure.

To his credit, my husband has been a real trouper despite all my dramatic protests against his home country. He seldom takes the side of the Japanese whenever I launch into my tirades. (He shrugs and agrees sympathetically.) He never expects me to learn the refined manners of a Japanese woman. (Till now, I still go out with minimal or no make-up. Horrors!) Never asks me to cook a Japanese meal. (Do you know the Japanese believe in consuming 30 or more different foods per day? Think of the number of side dishes I would have to prepare! I'm sorry but I'm usually a one-dish-meal kinda girl.)

Kaiseki spread: a Japanese full course meal

But best of all, he always sincerely offers to drop everything and move back to Singapore anytime.

So while I still believe I was the wrong girlfriend, for a guy like this, and with a lot more awareness, I’m going to keep trying to be the right wife.

(Some pictures taken from the Internet)