I didn’t know how lucky I was to get an apartment for practically nothing when I first moved to Tokyo in the 1980s. It belonged to a friend of a friend, a slightly eccentric Japanese woman who quickly became a good friend. The apartment was actually her office for an import jewelry business and was decorated in Parisian style to appeal to wealthy clients who came to peruse her jewelry cases. She used it during the day, and I had free reign after coming home from work at my magazine editor job and on weekends. I lived out of a huge closet, laying down my futon at night and packing it away during the day. Rent was so embarrassingly cheap (there were parking spots that cost more than what I paid), I raised it myself after living there about half a year.
Best of all, it was located in Aoyama 1-chome, one of Tokyo’s most fashionable addresses. Harajuku, with its youth-oriented culture and shops, was just a short walk away. It was where I bought almost all my clothes, as well as innumerable shoes and accessories. Omotesando became my stomping grounds. Soon, I came to know it better than any other neighborhood in Tokyo.
I wrote about Omotesando in the October issue of Global Traveler. Just thinking about what I’d write brought back a flood of memories, though the entire area has changed drastically since I lived there. Aoyama was always upscale, but now it’s home to an army of exclusive international designer shops and very trendy restaurants, even along the back streets. Harajuku is more crowded and famous than ever, and in between is Omotesando Dori, which has come into its own with a wide range of shops and restaurants.
Although I’m an ancient one in my former neighborhood now, I still love roaming the streets, checking out the latest fashions, reveling in all its quirkiness and discovering the unexpected. You gotta love a neighborhood that features Condomania on its busiest and most prominent intersection.
