Gwen Stefani got here first.
I hate to admit that. The singer, after all, co-opted Tokyo street style for banal girlie pop, then hired four Japanese girls as her own entourage-slash-accessories — and last month launched a line of perfume inspired by their edgy subculture.
Doesn't turning rebel teenagers into brands sound just a bit like exploitation?
Except that Harajuku Girls like these love the attention. Come to their catwalk — centred on the bridge between a shrine and a high-end shopping area in Tokyo — and you'll see them preening and posing for tourists.
Many are tweens from the suburbs, and their looks change as fast as their moods. But there are a few constants: Bows are big. So are knee-highs and Little Bo Peeps with lacy bonnets. And some girls, so-called Goth-Lolis, mix up their Lolita looks with dog collars.
This is the strange reality of kawaii — the Japanese culture of cute. Because these girls aren't mere curiosities or fashion victims. Kawaii (pronounced ka-why-ee) is not just for kids. Nor is it a passing fad in this fad-obsessed country.
Kawaii is a larger sensibility that stands for youth and style, but also all that is sweet, harmonious and wholesome. And it permeates every aspect of Japanese life — from entertainment to design to sexuality.
As David Wagner, a culture and communications expert in Tokyo tells me, cute is "ingrained in the Japanese psyche."
This could explain why the army and the Tokyo police force have cartoon mascots. And why earlier this year, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs appointed the character Doraemon — an animated cat — as its cultural ambassador.
In other words, Gwen got it right. For a glimpse of the real Japan, you have to see this country's "fatal attraction to cuteness," as the song goes, for yourself.
THE MUSEUM OF CUTE
That means taking an ad-hoc tour of Tokyo, because what has been described as the "hegemony of cute" here isn't always easy to pin down. Kawaii is everywhere and nowhere all at once.
There is certainly nothing overtly adorable about a city dominated by concrete, glass and neon. When I first arrive, in fact, I feel like one of the characters in Lost in Translation, alienated and slightly paralyzed by the city's immensity.
But eventually I shake off my jet lag and make out finer details. That salaryman on the subway has a tiny Snoopy charm hanging from his cellphone. Magazines such as Cutie pop from newsstands. Then there are those cartoons. Everywhere.
"Japan is anime culture," says my friend Misako Iizumi, a 33-year-old sales assistant at Tokyo Visa.
So I start with Ghibli Museum, run by Hayao Miyazaki, the granddaddy of Japanese animation. It's not quite what I expect. I don't see hordes of hipsters paying homage to the man behind films such as My Neighbour Totoro and Spirited Away. The exhibits — a super-kawaii "cat bus," a "boy's workshop" with the filmmaker's sketches and paintings, and a maze of child-sized corridors and stairwells — are mainly aimed at visitors under 10.
But coming here does remind me why being cute can be so appealing: The wide-eyed characters in anime films demand to be taken care of, to be protected. They can be plucky and adventurous, but when things get rough, they moue a bit and … everything turns out okay.
Another plus to Ghibli: It's smack in the middle of a residential area about 30 minutes from Tokyo, where you can see kawaii's effect in context. Because when Miyazaki's fans grow up, there's a lot of pressure to conform, to make everything okay. The streets are immaculate. The homes are tiny and uniform. Even the joggers look cool and pressed, as if they're holding back from sweating. And this is where you come home to unwind from the brutal work world.
Enter kawaii, a kind of cultural Prozac. As Iizumi tells me: "When I look at cute things, lovely things, that makes me feel relieved. It's like a pet. They cure our wounded soul."
Best of all, while looking and acting cute offers escape from the rigidity of adult life, it doesn't upset the larger social order. Kawaii icons don't rebel — Hello Kitty doesn't even have a mouth. They just paint the world a happy shade of pink.
To explain this, Wagner says, it helps to consider one of the basic values of Japanese culture: harmony. "Japanese don't like conflict," he says. "They avoid it and prefer to just look at the beauty of things, instead of, sometimes, the reality."
BUYING KAWAII
At the very least, theories like these make sense of Ghibli's mission to be "a museum that is interesting and which relaxes the soul." And of grown women posing for photos at Sanrio Puroland — a Hello Kitty theme park on the edge of town.
Or why not indulge your inner Harajuku Girl with a little kawaii-themed retail therapy?
For that, you can head to Takeshita-dori, the pedestrian street near the bridge where the girls pout for pictures. This is where you'll find staples for looks such as ero-kawaii (erotic cute) and kimo-kawaii (creepy cute). Nearby is the five-storey kawaii emporium Kiddyland, where plenty of adults jostle for dolls and toys and stuffed bears in little sleeping bags.
Or concentrate on the "109" building in Shibuya. A landmark in this neon-washed downtown hub — known for the highest concentration of love hotels in the city as well its youth-culture scene — this tower of boutiques caters mainly to gyaru, or gals.
From what I can tell, these are Harajuku Girls minus the angst (average age: 16; average skirt length: 16 inches) and they come here to rifle through Cute & Street brand knee socks and T-shirts with smiley faces at shops such as Tralala and Pinky Girls.
As for those of us past our "pinky girl" prime, there are lots of kawaii finds at traditional department stores in the Ginza district.
At Mitsukoshi, for instance, the housewares department stocks designer towelettes with little cat ears. Downstairs, sleek OLs — or Office Ladies — line up for expensive French pastries shaped like piglets and bunnies.
And there is kawaii fashion for men. Hello Kitty makes cheeky men's briefs with "Caress me deadly" written on the butt. Hipsters often wear their anime passions on their sleeves and shoes and jackets.
A better bet to see the male take on cute, though, is at a maid café.
According to my translator, James Yellowlees, an expatriate who runs an HR consulting firm in Tokyo, there's a large spectrum of coddling in Japan: a tradition of fawning servant-escorts that extends from refined geishas to hostesses to fake maids.
And in Tokyo, Akihabara is the district where computer geeks in their 20s and 30s come for the latest tech goodies, manga — and some pampering from a maid.
MAID SERVICE
This doesn't mean prostitution. Yet there's clearly something sexual about the girls outside Akihabara Station, promoting cafés in their skimpy French maid uniforms. As we head down a side street to a curtained second-storey joint called Royal Milk, I feel a bit apprehensive.
But the inside is charmless more than seedy. The tabletops are plastic. Fluorescent lights buzz from a particle board ceiling. The only frills are a TV showing anime and photos of the house maids.
Plus, of course, the maids themselves. Usually they wear ruffled headbands, high-heeled Mary Janes and the requisite knee-highs — but customers can pay maids to put on schoolgirl outfits, or to dress up like their favourite anime characters.
"Cuteness is the most important thing," the manager says.
And the cutie-pie treatment. Just ring the tiny white bell at your table. One of the maids will come over, crouching down in deference, to take your order. On the menu are dishes like the Royal Milk Omelet — which your maid will top with a happy face in ketchup if you desire.
It's hard not to chalk one up for critics of kawaii, who say the Japanese obsession with cute isn't therapeutic, it's infantilizing. Being a male burikko (or fake child) doesn't seem to promote harmony so much as narcissism.
Or maybe some kink. Pay extra and you can get a massage or a facial in a back room, which I'm not invited to see. Shell out $75 and you can also hang out with the maids (but nothing more) for half an hour. Mostly, the manager tells me, his clients are "maniacs" for anime: "They want to talk to women who share that obsession."
The maids claim they do. For instance, Matsumi Ashkawa, who has worked here full-time for the past two years, says she loves a game about a former ruler trying to recover his kingdom.
And Matsumi gets kawaii. When I ask her how old she is, she says 17.
"They're all 17," she says, pointing to her colleagues. "They all have a young heart."
Kawaii glossary
Kawaii Cute. And youthful. And sweet. Pronounced like Hawaii.
Kimo-kawaii Creepy cute.
Ero-Kawaii Erotic cute. As if the usual knee-high socks with bows at the thighs aren't erotic enough.
Goth Lolis "Loli" for Lolita, mixed up with a Goth aesthetic.
Burikko The term for fake child, often aimed at women who talk in cutesy ways.
Iyashi Healing. Arguably a side effect of cute, cuddly things.
Mamasan A motherly hostess who fawns over customers at "snack bars." See also: Maid cafés and geisha.
Otaku An extreme geek (sometimes the word refers to a shut-in) who is obsessed with anime, gaming and technology in general.
PACK YOUR BAGS
GETTING THERE
Air Canada (aircanada.com) and All Nippon Airways (ana.co.up) fly direct to Tokyo from Toronto and Vancouver. Cathay Pacific (cathaypacific.com) generally routes through Hong Kong.
WHERE TO STAY
CERULEAN TOWER TOKYU HOTEL 26-1 Sakuragaoka-cho; 81 (3) 3476 3000 ; ceruleantowerhotel.com. Rooms aren't cheap (singles start at $560), but this hotel is located in the heart of Shibuya.
PARK HOTEL 1-7-1 Higashi Shimbashi; 81 (3) 6252 1111 ; parkhoteltokyo.com. A moderately priced option in the city's business centre with rooms from $220.
TOURSELITE ORIENT TOURS 800-668-8100 ; elitetours.com. This Toronto-based tour company offers a number of hotel/airfare packages to Tokyo, as well as larger tours of Japan. Prices for a flight and five-night stay in Tokyo start at $1,488 a person.
WHAT TO SEE
GHIBLI MUSEUM 1-1-83 Simorenjaku, Mitaka; ghibli-museum.jp. Hayao Miyazaki's curiosity cabinet-cum-museum. Big with kids and anime fanatics. But you must reserve in advance; Canadians can order tickets through JTB International (jtbi.ca) for $10 plus service fees.
SANRIO PUROLAND 1-3 Ochiai, Tama-city; 81 (42) 339 1111 ; puroland.co.jp. Run by Sanrio, the manufacturers of Hello Kitty and other ultra-cute characters, this theme park is a good 40-minute train ride from central Tokyo. It's worth it, though, if you're dying to see Kitty's Pepto Bismol boudoir or only-in-Japan products. Tickets are $38.
ROYAL MILK 81 (30 3253 7858; r-milk.com. This is just one of many maid cafés in Akihabara. Come here to chat with maids (for a fee) or just get them to "put sugar and milk in your tea for you" for $9.
HARAJUKU To see the Harajuku Girls, head to the bridge just outside Harajuku Station (between the Meiji Jingu shrine and Omotesando Street). Or go to Takeshita Street for your own kawaii outfits.
KIDDYLAND 6-1-9 Jingu-mae; 81 (3) 3409 3431 . This is the toy store for kids — and for adults in search of a little cute therapy.MITSUKOSHI 1-4-1 Nihombashi Muromachi; 81 (3) 3241 3311 . Japan's oldest department store carries kawaii towels and adorable edibles. Or come when the doors open to see utterly cute salesgirls perform their daily welcome ritual. MORE INFORMATION For more Tokyo attractions,visit jnto.go.jp.
(Source: The globe and mail.com, 2008-10-31)