Tuesday, August 11, 2009


Laforet, aka bliss, paradise, Mecca and the place I kwant my soul to inhabit when I die, is on the edge of harajuku and is quite possibly the epitome of style. So, as you walk in is an exhibit/haute couture setup, surrounded by concept storelets. Alannah Hill's inspiration? Perhaps.

Harajuku market is also bliss and very, very dangerous. There was a particular cosplay store screaming my name, and although the last remaining treble-clef-and-stave dress fitted me, eight different shades of pink (ALL of them somehow candy) weren't so stunning.

I know it's not an original observation, but one of the best bits is people-watching. Especially outside Laforet, where all the people paid to be artistic seem to pass.

I especially like (surprise, surprise) the tribal nature of fashion here, particularly because of the interbreeding and resultant mutant spawn (!).

There're the chainstore kids, a little bit of punk, goth, cosplay (think manga), Lolita, sweet happy life, and so cool I picked up the first ten items off my loft floor (too cool for such mundane things as a bedroom), put them on in random order, possibly insideout, and I don't actually work here, I just deign to show up occasionally and let people pay me.

Actually, that conveys a bad attitude, which is certainly NOT the case. Everyone has been delightfully helpful and polite during my stay, even when they must be thinking "You're huge! Our jeans won't fit you!".

The most difficult thing about shopping is waiting for the sales assistant to pull the garments off the coathanger before she'll give them back and i can try them on. Oh, and doing the math of dividing everything by 80. Maybe we could move to japan...

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