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 Eat: Simple food that could sterilize a stomach

In my years of living in Tokyo, my stomach has gotten somewhat sterilized. And that is a huge inconvenience every time I have a home vacation where my stomach violently objects to my top cravings. Once, I ate some Laksa (a spicy coconut-based seafood noodle dish) and by the next day, I was down with a bad stomach which ailed me for a week and a sore throat that took time to heal. That was precious stomach space wasted where I could have safely eaten something like chee cheong fun instead.

So I have learnt to strategize my intake. Upon touchdown, I have to start the food hunt slowly. A lotus-paste bao here, a yong tau foo there. Nothing spicy, nothing wok-fried. Then after the stomach is accustomed to that small section of local flavors then I can move on to expand on my repertoire. It is a slow and deliberate process but one that I dare not risk skipping should the stomach give up and resign me to my plain crackers and milo drink.

Having learnt how my stomach has turned foreign has attuned me to the differences in the food here. Basically, there is very little oil used in their everyday cooking. Putting the tonkatsu (deep-fried pork cutlet) and tempura aside as they are fanfare you enjoy in restaurants, the food is usually flavored sweetly by a combination of soya sauce and mirin. This is unusual for a Singapore-trained palate. I remember grimacing at the sweetness of food at the beginning. This is like having dessert for your main course! I'd once remarked.

Shogayaki (Sweet ginger sauté pork)

Over time, I realized that the flavoring actually helps enhance and brings out the sweetness in the natural flavor of foods in vegetables or meat. Another key to why it works could also lie in the freshness of the ingredients used. As much as it sounds insane to pay nearly double for half a portion of the vegetables you can get in Singapore, the price for domestic groceries is well accounted for by the level of freshness they promise. Whereas in Singapore, one would have to sort out the good and the bad bits of the bunch of greens, in Tokyo, I find myself being able to toss the whole packet in most of the time. Their standard variety, in terms of vegetables and fish, cannot compete with the imported array Singaporeans enjoy but if you want to cook like a Japanese, you will learn to adjust your food with the season.

Vegetables at a local store

For example, when it is near Autumn, the Sanma (pacific saury), which is what Japanese term a blue fish, gets perfectly plumped with unsaturated fatty acids. When grilled with just a dash of salt on its surface, it becomes a dish in itself. The oil naturally emitted by the fish is sweet and tasty. It is simple and the only hassle is the cleaning of the grill after. And that is why most Japanese kitchens, however small, come with a grill. It doubles up as a great toaster as I was taught once.

Grilled Sanma

The Japanese grill, deserves a quick side mention at this point. Unlike the West where it is used for a huge BBQ cook out, the typical grill here is rectangular and something larger than an A4 size. The steel grid sits neatly on top of a pan where you are to put water into so that oil or any excess sauce from your food is caught and diffused for an easier clean-up after. The fire starts aflame on top of the food which is the reverse of the Western BBQ grill. It makes grilling so convenient for someone who has never started a BBQ pit in my life!

My home grill

Thus, being a lazy one-dish meal person, apart from grilling fish, my other favorite ingredient to cook with is negi. Negi (leek), next to daikon (white radish), is a huge staple in Japanese foods. If a manga artist were to sketch a housewife pedaling home on her bicycle, he would most absolutely have a long negi sticking out of her grocery basket. From the same family of onions, it has a sweet yet aromatic taste to it. The white stem is consumed whereas the green part is best used to flavor stews. It goes with pork, chicken even salmon or simply tofu. Another bonus is that unlike the onion, it doesn't sting my eyes when cut. So when I need a quick cook, I whip out my baton of negi, chop it up, toss it around with my sliced pork, splatter some drops of soya sauce and mirin, and I have a somewhat decent dish to eat with my instant noodles or instant pack of rice.

Negi!!!

The Japanese have a lot of pride in their produce and rightly so. I was once told that why their fruits are so oversized and incredibly sweet is that they prune the fruit trees so that there is no overcrowding on the tree. Think of the tree as a parent. If there are too many kids you have to nurture, you simply cannot give 100% to each and every kid at the same time. So by having fewer ‘kids’, you can yield sweeter plumper offsprings. And that explains why the fruit here are expensive as one pays for the labor of pruning and selecting each fruit, on top of the standard farmer practice elsewhere in the world. In addition, there is a careful grading of fruits where they are ranked in sweetness so you can choose if you want to pay less for an average fruit or more for an awesome fruit. For example, as the apple is in season, they have a label which tells you that a number 10 is sweet and 11 is just the right balance of sweetness but if you want to go for 12 which is obviously sweeter, it advises that it may be TOO sweet. That is very Japanese indeed- the subtle difference of the beauty of a fruit being just right.

So I think if my stomach were an apple, I should give it a 10. It is sweet in that it has learnt to digest and appreciate all the wonders of Japanese food but it is one grade away from being just right- to balance the pow-wow flavors of my Laksa.

Denim on Play: How to be beachy

Singapura, oh Singapura. Sunny island, set in the sea... How I used to love that song which was frequently practiced during my years in school for Singapore's National Day. But ironically, it is a description I least like to use when asked about the country I come from.

This is what an aerial view of a real island should look like I think!

Telling someone you grew up on an island conjures up the idyllic image of lovely palm trees, sand and sparkling cool waters. Perhaps if my neighborhood were in the East side, I could somewhat justify the generalization but alas, I grew up in the North. I was hidden thick in the concrete blocks of government housing and my favorite getaway was escaping into the artificially-cooled air of the shopping centers at Orchard Road (another misleading name for yet another concrete jungle). So despite growing up on an island, I was a city girl.

However, upon migrating to the intense Tokyo metropolis, I find myself gradually loving the city life less. Just walking through the streets of Shibuya at night tires me out. It is as if the bright shops, the dense volume of people, the roaring vehicles, the dusty pavements are all draining me of my energy. And it is in this madness, I find myself seeking a quiet vacation and dreaming of a beach holiday.

To the Japanese, the beach is something that defines summer here so no matter how scorching hot and humid it is, even the dirtiest beach is crowded and busy in the peak season. The Japanese are professionals at getting in order so no matter how crowded it can get, there is still a sense of calm at the scene. Something I find comfortable yet unsettling at the same time.

methinks our humble East Coast beats this dark littered sand at Kamakura

I can still recall my most bizarre scene encountered at the beach in Shirahama. From afar, one can spot neatly planted parasols one the sandy shores and in the sparkling water, huge colorful ring floats lined up and bobbing in rhythm to dull soft beats. It was a picture that presented life and a robotic tone at the same time. I was then told that the highlight of the day would be to go rent a float and get into the water to bob up and down with the rest of the crowd. Playing in a silent orchestra with a missing conductor. I was skeptical but I shrugged off my doubts and kept up with the Tanakas and went in.

Love the neat parasols -

perhaps we can rent them out at East Coast?!

To my surprise, after a few minutes of bobbing, I started to enjoy the motions. Every wave that took me up and down was like a gentle massage, rhythmically rubbing away the stress of the city, a numbing effect to ease the tensions. Gradually, it became fun, anticipating when the next wave would take me on another bob. Like how the Japanese hot spring is a simple yet therapeutic soak for the soul, the Japanese summer beach bob is the cooler version.

See in the background how not many people are really swimming?

Bob away bobbers!

For the curious, there aren't many beaches accessible to the Tokyo dwellers. Those closer to Tokyo are scenic beaches like the ones in Kamakura or Onjuku i.e. nice to look out and sit on the beach mat but not clean or safe enough to really get into the waters. However, they are good for surfers and you get the odd eye candy of lean, tanned, glistening bodies.

Takashi Sorimachi is who I dream of bumping into on the beach

but the local crop is usually a lot skinnier…

Another thing I've grown to love about the beach is the endless view of the water horizon. It makes me feel like I am at the edge of the world and gives a sense of how minute we are in the grand scheme of life. My husband once pointed out to me how one could see the very soft curve of the horizon if one observes closely. Just how often do we remember that the world is not flat?

Oh, how a subtle curve could be so beautiful

and yet, so hard to capture..

My other favorite discovery here was the beauty of the Okinawan islands. The clear turquoise waters are gems themselves but what I had enjoyed the most was the wonderful hospitality and culture of the islanders. They have such a kind and friendly demeanor about them and even their songs have such a happy lilt to it that I can easily envision retiring comfortably there someday.

Wouldn’t you like to lie here all day?

Or I should start learning to play the sanshin (like a banjo)

if I need a skill to retire with in Okinawa..

So consider me a reformed islander as I now try to play catch up on the time wasted in the concrete jungle. As for my next vacation? The artful island of Naoshima!

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)