Vitality Stories

Growing In Tokyo – Day One

First Impression

Steps taken: 19,654

Not knowing much about Tokyo, we were hesitant to book traditional Japanese accommodations and instead opted for a western hotel between the Akasaka and Roppongi neighborhoods. As is typical when staying at a western-influenced hotel, our fellow lodgers were a mix of business travellers and tourists.

Ted and I are walkers. I wear a pedometer on our travels to track our daily adventure (and to figure out how much dessert I will eat) one step at a time. We have struck a fashion sense inclined towards practicality and comfort, avoiding aching feet and backs without feeling underdressed, or barring ourselves entrance to nice restaurants or establishments due to tennis shoes, t-shirts and jeans. Our packing philosophy has always worked—until Tokyo.

Whenever we travel, I have a heightened sense of awareness for my surroundings and the people in it. Everything from location and orientation to paying with a different currency becomes a challenge, and it’s invigorating. Actions and objects, regardless of significance, require my utmost attention and perusal. Shaking my mind out of the humdrum of routine, comfort zones, and familiarity is, in my opinion, the best part of travelling.

Our first full day in Tokyo was a Saturday so when I stepped outside, I was not greeted by sights of the Sarari (salary men) often dressed in black or blue suits. The streets were fairly empty as we started walking towards Ginza—a fashion center and polished neighborhood with high-end retail stores.

We are walkers. We aren’t shoppers. Other than inspecting neighborhoods, we seldom seek out the shopping districts in the cities we visit. They tend to look and feel the same no matter where we travel and I’m not inclined to spend precious time shopping in stores I can find in many U.S. cities. We were simply touring Ginza as we headed towards the Imperial Palace, so I surprised myself by noticing and becoming overwhelmed by how fantastic every person looked. I’m being literal. Every person.

 

It’s in the details

From make-up to socks, men and women were presenting their best. I have never seen anything like it. And I’m not even talking, YET, about the commitment some residents demonstrated to cosplay, anime, and street fashion in the neighborhoods of Harajuku, Shibuya, and Shinjuku:

Nonetheless, as I took my stroll through Ginza in a blouse, black jeans, and black leather Rockport Truwalks, I felt frumpy and out of place. Please understand. I’m not usually susceptible to caring how other people look or how I might compare. And yet, there I was, comparing myself and not feeling so hot (no pun intended).

Okay, I know what you might be thinking,

Why in the heck are you consumed with something as superficial as appearance? Are you that vain? YOU’RE IN TOKYO. Get a grip.

Or perhaps you’re thinking,

Of course you feel underdressed in a high-end shopping district. You’re a tourist packing a pedometer.

But it’s not like you think.

Looking well wasn’t exclusive to the Ginza neighborhood. Over the next nine days, I would test my observation over and over as we explored each niche of Tokyo via subway and by foot. Time and time again, I saw women, men, and children looking their best or fully committed to their ‘look.’ Perhaps the quality of clothing changed and the surrounding stores shifted, but still, my impression was each person was doing their hair, makeup, and clothing to the best of their capabilities and not only did they look good from where I was standing, they looked like they felt good on the inside, too.

In Tokyo a consensual, modest confidence exists that a person is dressed to his, or her, best capability. It’s not a competition to look the best; it’s a personal decision to look their best. And darn it, I’m convinced that when someone knows they are being their best, including looking their best, it impacts their outlook on the day and how they interact with others.

The aesthetic commitment didn’t seem like a façade or an impression.  It didn’t ring with superficiality. It wasn’t like Los Angeles where there is a culture of See & Be Seen, where clothing brands and price tags can mean everything, or a façade and image is being carefully crafted and designed—An appearance of fashion for the sake of appearance. No, I was picking up on some sense—a sense of appearance being a reflection of an individual and demonstrating his/her way of life. I was noticing care and attention…purpose in taking something seemingly insignificant, such as getting dressed for the day, and making it an accomplishment (and over the next few weeks, I will share how this does not only apply to makeup and outfits).

We continued our walk, but in the back of my mind I was thinking about my wardrobe back home and my daily writing ‘look’—yoga clothes, no makeup, and a ponytail. And the song from the below spoof on women doing everything in their active wear was playing in my head:

Active Wear

We reached the East Gardens of the Imperial Palace—nature’s respite within the bustling city—where we marveled at the remains of the 1888 Edo Castle walls, destroyed in World War II. Inspired by our lush surroundings, we decided to take the long way back to our hotel and walk along the palace moat. To our surprise, there were hundreds of runners with the same idea. I’ve lived in San Francisco, San Diego, and Seattle and I’ve never seen so many runners in a city. They were like ants. Fast ants. Fit ants.

With my active-wear-dominant-wardrobe already in question, I realized I hadn’t seen a single Japanese person shopping or walking around—living—in workout clothes. Unlike the U.S., in Tokyo exercise clothes are for…well…exercising.

And there, strolling through Tokyo, I connected the dots and found my disconnection. On a daily basis in my daily routine, I’ve gotten lazy about getting ready for my day. How I looked on the outside did not match how I felt inside.

 

Reflection

My outward appearance isn’t reflecting who I am. I work out every day and I eat a healthy diet. I have more energy and am accomplishing more in my life than I ever have. I am more creative than ever and am building my writing career. In this whacky world of writing, I’m learning something new and challenging myself each day. I feel excited, vital, and vibrant. I’m proud of where and who I am as I approach my 45^th birthday. But…

I haven’t been presenting myself to the best of my capability and in Tokyo I realized I’ve actually ‘getting ready’ as part of my daily ritual.

Since I’ve been back, I’ve taken a few steps such as organizing my wardrobe and putting exercise clothes in a specific drawer for…exercise. I’ve replaced old, dried up makeup, and I found my curling iron. I feel happier. I was already happy, but I am happier.

 

What I learned on day one

Being the best you are capable of being, sometimes and literally, starts with the person staring back at you in the mirror.

I was taught to never judge a book by its cover. Before Tokyo, my cover didn’t reflect my content the way it once did. And now, most every day, within the first hour of waking, I try to look my best in preparation for what I hope to feel and accomplish on any given day. The clear, simple action is symbolic.

I have a beautiful, dear friend who has been on a pursuit to simplify her life, purge years of material possessions, and focus on what matters most to her, and yoga clothes are a perfect expression of simplicity at this point in her life. Enjoying how she feels in yoga clothes reminds her to simplify.

Does your outward appearance sync up with how you feel and think, or what you want to accomplish each day?

I would enjoy hearing your thoughts on the above, and if you’ve been to Japan.