You're just a slave to fashion, and everyone knows...

I was in Harajuku the other night after a show, and the scene was mad! You know those famous photos of the light changing at one of the gigantic Tokyo intersections? Well, it looked like that, but it was 1 a.m. It was as crowded, or more so, than during the day. It is nothing like being in the Mission or Castro or East Village or West Hollywood at 1 or 2 a.m. The vibe is unrecognizable. You feel like you don't have to get up the next morning (okay, well, I don't, but anyway...) or that time doesn't matter. The closest thing I can compare it to is Halloween in the Castro.

Oh, and the people watching and the fashion! Trevor and I often admire the fabulous Tokyo fashion with a mixture of bewilderment and envy. Bewilderment because some of the most god-awful stuff gets thrown together (My two favorite male ensembles: blue flowered pants/ blue flowered shirt/blue shoes/strategically texturized haircut; silver feather earring/terrycloth wristbands/super mullet/Gucci monogram cloth loafers); envy, because it works. I cannot count the times I've stopped at a shop and been this close to buying something and then realizing that if I even attempt to pull it off in the States I will be banished forever into the darkest pit of fashion hell.

Speaking of fashion hell -- today I was on the train and a really good-looking gaijin sat down across from me. He was your typical male specimen of English Teacher Americus : blonde/blue-eyed, decked out in khakis and a funky striped shirt that was a little too small. Teaching outfit trespasses are understandable and forgiven, but he was wearing those goddamn Gucci monogram cloth loafers! It really didn't fly, and it looked a little like one of those disasters (see above) that you can only wear in Japan (or L. A. -- maybe he's from L. A.). I think he knew it too (probably from my uncontrollable staring), because he got up and slinked away like a repentant label whore.