TOKYO — With all of the bountiful and forward fashions found in this city, the last thing one would expect to be buying with abandon is vintage clothing.
But tucked in Jinnan, in the outer reaches of the bustling Shibuya district — a charming neighborhood that boasts hip Japanese specialty stores such as Beams, Ships and Crisp — is a string of funky little vintage boutiques. These, however, are not your average retail outposts with street access and obvious signage. Instead, each boutique is hidden away in perfectly ordinary-looking apartment buildings. They aren’t remotely visible from the street except for their easily missed signs.
The first one spied was Nude Trump, its store name campily decorated with gold tinsel. I’d walked by it dozens of times and it wouldn’t have occurred to me to venture inside had an adventurous friend not recommended it.
Down a set of sketchy steps and at the end of a hallway lit with garish fluorescent lights was the long, narrow store filled with cool vintage finds such as women’s boots, costume jewelry, hats, sweaters and belts — a hodgepodge of costume-y items that weren’t pricy. You could put together the perfect masquerade getup, but you could also snap up trendy ponchos and pumps. And the store manager, Yosuke (but you can call him Yo), spotted a secondhand sucker when he saw one and disclosed the three other vintage stores owned by the same company that are all in a three-block radius. He then promptly escorted me to all of them.
On the sixth floor of the same building there was another of these shops, called Rosy-Baroque. Decorated like a little jewel box with hanging antique lanterns and colorful petticoats, the tiny store was a treasure chest filled with fur capelets, ornate costume jewelry and dresses, dresses, dresses. I found an amazing bracelet festooned with black, gold and crystal balls and charms; a soft nude-colored Fifties-style dress with an accordion skirt, and a black, floral-print wrap dress that, while clearly polyester, looked great nevertheless. I bought it all for about $220. There was also a perfect creamy white fur capelet, but it was on hold for another customer.
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Next stop was the Hypnotique shop up the street, which was also ensconced in another gray, narrow fluorescent-lit apartment building. After traipsing up to the second floor, one opens the door to a darling little shop filled with a treasure trove of printed Diane Fries dresses from the Eighties; python pumps; metallic cocktail purses, and loads of necklaces and pendants. I picked up a black dress threaded with silver stripes, and while I loved a red-and-indigo herringbone-print Fries dress, it was more than $200, so I passed (which was a mistake, since I still pine for it).
Then it was down the street and around the corner to Cabaret. Also on the second floor, it was at least visible from the street. At this sweet boutique, I found my favorite buy: an emerald green, silk chiffon dress with a full skirt that’s a dead ringer for the cream Chloé dress from fall that Nicole Kidman has been sporting around town. It was gorgeous, fit perfectly and was about $140. There were similar ones in black and red and I should have bought them, too.
I tried on and considered for some time a leopard-print cape and, though it felt very Kim Novak in “Vertigo,” it was also more than $200, so I nixed it. But a pretty polyester white dress with a striking floral print and a full skirt was only about $50 and looked amazing and fresh, so I bought that, too.
Over the course of the next few days, I revisited the stores looking for something I might have missed and continued to deliberate over one purchase or another. What’s funny is all the vintage is actually from the U.S. The stores’ owner and his team travel to the Midwest and comb through vintage stores looking for finds, which they bring back to Tokyo. As someone who loves vintage clothes, it was nice to find great stuff that was selling for reasonable prices, was merchandised impeccably and in surroundings that were lovely and smartly executed. Even a Japanese friend of mine, Tomoko, who grew up in Tokyo, was wowed by the stores — which ranged from the perfectly accessorized mannequins and golden hues at Rosy-Baroque to the red-walled, edgier Hypnotique.
And if the success of any store — or fashion — is how long it stays with you after you leave, then the four tiny shops in Tokyo certainly passed the test. Even with all New York has to offer shopping-wise, I keep thinking about those little vintage boutiques in Shibuya, wishing I had bought a fur chubby and more silk party frocks and stocked up on costume jewelry. Guess they’ll have to wait until my next trip.