Caroline in Paris

Nick jokes from time to time about liking Tokyo because he’s so tall that it doesn’t feel crowded.  I, naturally, didn’t have quite the same experience, but it was an interesting change to feel…average.  As in, “not short.”  Even a bit statuesque now and then in heels, but that’s pushing it, right?

Anyway.

Tokyo style is a bit jarring after Paris, if only for the emphasis on cuteness, which is supremely un-French.  But women also favored much more feminine shapes; none of the drapy boxy shift-type stuff.  Of course, there was also plenty of good old-fashioned trying too hard:

And then plenty of the simply old-fashioned:

I couldn’t believe how poised and patient she was.  She just stood there looking all serene while a rotating crowd of a dozen at any given time snapped away, trying to get all of her angles.  We saw her later in the market, too, so it’s not like she had nothing else to do, you know?

But it’s not just the people: they dress up their dogs.  Poodles are the clear favorites, groomed to within an inch of their lives and decked out in ribbons for good measure, and nearly every dog I saw was wearing a shirt:

I sent Nick racing off the street after that last one; they eventually stopped to pose when another man asked to take a photo:

Since it’s getting near Christmas, even the streets are dressed up.  Blue is evidently the most fashionable color this year:

But for more every-day decorations, color-changing fiber optics are the rage:

And then there are the things that haven’t “fit” into any of my Tokyo blogs so far, but I like them and want to remember and share them, so here we go:

• At least one subway line has a car designated “women only,” which applies during peak hours.  This is due to the continued prevalence of subway groping, which…get a life, guys.

• Cats are everywhere; I must have seen a few every day, just wandering around in unexpected places.  And then, of course, there was this kind:

• Another thing that one sees here and there (less often than cats, but more often than, say, iguanas) is swastikas.  While the ones below predate WWII, there is a conspicuous absence of the remorseful, horrified, never-again-type of purge that went on in Europe afterward:

• Convenience stores sell these little seaweed-wrapped triangles of rice with something inside that are to die for: the world’s most perfect snack.  My favorite were the ones with the purple label; they have pickled plum inside.  And salmon-colored is salmon and another–yellow?–is cod roe, and there are more.  But personally, I don’t think I’d ever get tired of the plum ones.

• Oh, and speaking of food in shapes:

• “French” is a huge, huge deal to Tokyo-ites.  The line at Ladurée stretched out of sight, and our room service menu included “pie aux pommes.”  Apparently some more enterprising business people have chosen to capitalize on this by giving their stores French names.  I mean, admittedly I haven’t seen every store in France (no matter what Nick tells you), but when I don’t recognize the name of 70% of them, odds are good that at least a few aren’t nearly as international as they’re letting on.

• But the rage for the crème de la crème of foreign products is obviously on nonetheless.  I had to be sneaky about the photo, because these two were having a fight–he pressed the elevator button and then reached for her hand; she snatched it away and wouldn’t look at him.  But I’m thinking she won’t stay mad for long, because look at his other hand.  He’s got a bribe all ready to go: two pizza-box-sized flats of Krispy Kremes.  And unless she’s made of stone….