Opinion / Fiona Wilson
Same difference
Anyone who loves Tokyo has to accept that change is part of the package. Old buildings are swept away with little sentimentality and new ones thrown up in their place. I was reminded of this recently when I went to check on a prewar building in Jimbocho, Tokyo’s book district, that I had long admired.
The narrow brick structure from 1929 might have been unnoticed in London but in Tokyo it was a remarkable survivor that had somehow escaped firebombing and redevelopment. I walked my usual route only to find that the building had gone; like a missing tooth, there was an empty space where it had stood. I dropped in at an old print shop nearby and asked the owner whether he knew what had happened. Oh yes, he said, that was a good building. But even he, a purveyor of historic maps of Tokyo, didn’t seem too bothered.
I found myself reflecting on Tokyo’s intriguing blend of change and continuity again while sitting in an old workshop in Shinjuku, watching Yuichi Hirose print delicate patterns on kimono silk. He is the fourth generation of his family to do so. With his gelled hair and Nike high-tops, Hirose is an unlikely guardian of tradition but this highly skilled work is still done by hand, just as it always has been.
The next day I was passing Lawn (pictured), a classic kissaten coffee shop with a pristine 1960s interior and a soundtrack to match. I was afraid that it too might have been bulldozed when I wasn’t looking but it was unchanged: the proprietor was busy making his warm egg sandwiches, The Beatles were still on rotation and the old pink telephone was still by the door. Renewal is Tokyo’s lifeblood but it’s comforting to know that some things stay the same.