In keeping with the moe theme of this blog, I would like to end this year with a completely shamelessly, inappropriate and vulgar medley of random Shibuya men. With 10 minutes to spare for a business meeting at Hachiko, I turned my new Canon S90 on the crowd.
The photo above is perhaps the best: the central subject fetishized, the public zipping by, and one woman in the background smiling knowingly towards the lens.
If you asked me what is my favorite Japanese uniform, I would say the mask: ubiquitous, a sign of danger inbound or outbound, of dubious functionality, and quintessentially Japanese. Above this boy rocks his mask with ipod, shaggy orange perm, and the skinny pants tucked inside some girlish boots. I am slayed.
Continue seeing and reading more after the jump.
I was aiming my camera at the lady on the right’s gorgeous mane of hair. Somehow, with fast-moving crowds and slow shutter, the photo focused on the guy in the middle. The shaved head guy below is very handsome, and his smirk seems to reflect his self-knowledge.
I wonder what this older man is taking photos of? Am I not the only one captivated by male fashion? I love how he’s handing out the door of a historic train that does not move. I inadvertently captured a perm disaster in the foreground. In Shibuya, it’s like shooting fish in a barrel.
Finally, in addition to all the “real” men, Shibuya is full of seductive advertising. On two sides of the plaza were images of male butch and femme. Each captivating, if a bit extreme.
Happy new year! And a better, brighter new decade.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
It’s amazing how many people find my blog because I tag with XXX words. Who searches for that stuff on WordPress? The best you’d get would be a porn star’s blog or erotic literature. Lemme save you a step : http://literotica.com/stories/index.php . Everything you’d ever want (to read). Lemme save you another step: http://youporn.com/. Unless you guys know something I don’t about wordpress, you’d probably have better luck with those sites.
My gorgeous blogger friend Green Eyed Geisha made my dreams come true with our private bonenkai, year forgetting party, which we celebrated at Top Dandy, a male host club in Kabukicho. See this Tokyo host website for a list of all 70 clubs!
I love the contrast between the simple sign out front, indicating the club’s location on the fifth floor of an ordinary building, and the elaborate photo styling of their website.
Once inside, we were met by a handsome tall guy who was very charming, and along with a portly short older guy led us into the chandelier-bedecked club. There must have been twenty chandeliers, including ceiling, wall, and at least one inside of a plexiglass drinks table. Plus many many mirrors.
Later, GEG told me that she hadn’t found our first greeter handsome, because his hair was too natural. I found him suave and charming, and loved that he had self-taught himself English. He also boasted that he had taken a 3 month trip to 20 countries, of which he most liked Turkey and South Africa.
GEG introduced me as her cousin, which seemed much kinder than uncle and explained that I was there to soothe her “first time” anxiety. She, of course, has been to several others before. But as first time customers at Top Dandy, we were entitled to a 5,000 yen (US$ 55) all you-can-drink, stay-as-long-you-want encounter with an endless parade of back-combed, floss haired boys.
Continue reading after the jump.
GEG was initially concerned the club would bar my entry based on gender, or charge more since men are assumed to be bigger drinkers than ladies (not true in my case!). It probably helped that we went out on a Wednesday evening, so there were plenty of tables and idle boys, and in this poor economy business is business.
The basic set-up is that you are seated, and two or three hosts at a time entertain you. They pour your drinks, light your cigarettes, and try to be charming. Of the twenty hosts we met over three hours, I found two very attractive, fifteen not at all, and a few more attractive after many drinks. Many were drunk, loud and frankly boring. Most were tall and thin, although some were short and even one goth.
My friend M. had egged me on by suggesting that I serve as the stool by which all the hosts could access the lovely GEG. With them perched on my lap, “Their hair product fumes will suffocate you in ecstasy.”
Strangely the host I found most attractive was a non-drinker who’s been working at Top Dandy for five years. Notice how close we are in the photo, and his tongue is discreetly sticking out. Unlike the others, he was attentive, soft-spoken and seemed more interested in us. It didn’t hurt that I told him he looks like Kimutaku’s younger brother, which prompted him to show us various cellphone photos of himself where he thought he most looked like Kimutaku. Ah, male vanity, you are so mesmerizing!
I asked how long it takes to create that fountain effect with his hair, shooting up and cascading down, and he said only 30 minutes. He also added that he goes to a beauty salon every day to get it styled. He and a few others allowed me to touch their hair after I asked whether it was hard.
One particularly vulgar host insisted he wanted me to teach him English. In a mix of Japanese, English and body gestures, he answered my question of what is the most difficult part of being a host. He explained, or bragged, that sometimes he has to have sex with the ladies. Poor guy! I didn’t find out if he gets paid extra for that personal touch, or if it is a reward for champagne service that costs between US$400 and $3,500.
Somehow GEG was disappointed that the hosts didn’t talk dirty to her. She wondered if they thought we were a couple, or just not interested in becoming regulars. I think it’s because she is young, good looking and confident. Other customers were middle-aged women by themselves: one a Japanese Annie Hall type hiding under a large hat and glasses. Several were in full bloom of middle age while dressing as late teen hostesses. Others looked shy and nerdy.
I also learned that there are strange laws governing host clubs. They open from 6.30 pm to 1 pm, at which time they are obligated to close. They reopen at 5.30 am and stay open to lunch. I assume the evening shift customers are middle-aged ladies, while the morning crowd are hostesses and others who work nights.
On the street near the host clubs, I overcame GEG’s shyness and insisted that I could easily persuade these three hosts to have their photo taken with her. I’ve cropped her from the photo to preserve her beautiful anonymity.
One American male friend in Tokyo was confused that two of them are women. No, NONE OF THEM ARE WOMEN. And they are most likely hetero (with a potential gay for pay work ethic).
My dream is to go to a different club next month for a shinnenkai, or new year’s party, with GEG and another favorite Tokyo blogger, MISA. I am sure she can loosen up the boys.
Is this wooden object a stick or a pole? In any case, it is an essential element of Tokyo policing. I love seeing the local cop at the kabin standing guard with the wooden stick, or the more formal occasions in front of a government office.
The tool is at once simple and, most likely, ineffective against any real emergency. Yet its presence is somehow soothing to the police and the public.
(actual photo of WordPress editor in locker room before mens jazzersize class yesterday afternoon)
How are you going WordPress editors?
God it’s been TOO long since we hung out.
Yesterday when I saw you was great. I really liked your outfit too. You look great in shoes. Have you lost weight?
Thanks for putting my spandex mens aerobics story on the WordPress homepage yesterday. Hey, how cool are homepages? I like them. Just another thing that you and I have in common.
I have lots of new friends thanks to you. And they’re all spandex lovers like me.
So, in the fatuous belief that a little spandex hocus-pocus in this blog will so dazzle readers that they’ll be too dazed to notice the quality of the writing – and the realisation that my calling in life may be limited to finding stories on spandex – here’s all that ’s hot, and not, in the spandex Universe today.
Katy Perry is Sporty in Spandex
Fat People in Spandex!
But now is the time to bite the hand that feeds.
If I am required to while away the rest of my life writing about spandex, and the fruitcakes who fetishize about it. I want something in return.
You go to www.cword.tv and watch the video podcasts – and I’ll write about spandex for the next 70 years, or til I die – whichever comes last (my commitment knows no earthly bounds).
This podcast is really good, and I have every reason to believe that the kids find it pretty hip. Once, I saw a guy watching it just after he’d finished listening to rap music through his cassette headphones. He had his hat on back to front as well.
So………… it sounds like a fair deal to me.
You watch the cword podcast.
I write about spandex.
And I get to feel like I’ve been punched in the face everyday. TWICE.
(Seriously, being Chinese burned to death would be more fun than writing about spandex)
Anyways, thanks again for this, I look forward to catching up soon. I don’t think I’ll have the salad next time. It was a bit underwhelming.
Yours, while wondering why my life has come to this, and what I did to deserve it, and how can I deal with being the Perez Hilton of spandex
Righteous
p.s. being on the WordPress homepage is not very manly. You have possibly not considered this before, but such things are the purpose of my blog. It’s what I call a ‘transfer of knowledge’. Being on your homepage is like wearing dangly ear-rings – just too obvious. Now I have to care what people think about what I write, and believe me, we both know I’m too busy to do that.
p.p.s. ok, one more spandex item, you can never get too much of a good thing
OK, the last two posts have been serious. Pompous even. Lecturing & Hectoring…
Sorry!
Now back to the good stuff.
One of the more evocative images from films is the fresh faced girl stepping out of her bath wearing just a short, barely concealing towel. A barely concealing insecure towel that could fall down at any minute!
So here’s a Flickr Gallery of eighteen gorgeous shots of “A Girl and her Towel”:
The Magic of Women: A Girl and her Towel
If you’re a Flickr member and have safe search off, you’ll like these images which were too hot for the gallery:
Just as I was posting that other blog, bitching about how I’ve used up all the good men, I remembered the HUGE crush I have on someone.
There’s a girl that works at the coffee shop down the street from my house. She has the most mesmerizing arms I have ever seen. Anyone who knows me well, knows that I have a bit of a vein fetish. She has tanned skin running across the most beautiful arm veins. More pronounced than most women’s. Like she works with her hands a lot.
I want to press my tongue to one of those veins and feel it’s warmth dip beneath my pressure.
She’s the prefect combination of man and woman. Short tousled hair, a strong chin, deep brown eyes fringed in jealousy inspiring lashes. Jeans slung low on slender hips and a slight hunch in her back. She is gorgeous.
I know her name and what she’s going to school for but only because I overheard her telling someone else. Whenever I order coffee from her I become so tongue tied that sometimes I just point to what I want. She might think I’m very slow…or possibly mute.
The trouble with me and women has always been that I never know what to say to them. Throw a man in front of me and I can keep him entertained for hours. But a girl…a girl who obviously does not play both sides of the field…what would she want with me? A girl who unabashedly loves cock. But who also melts at the sight of the swell of a B cup breast.
Now that I’m almost 30 I feel like I’ve missed the boat on having a real girlfriend. I don’t think a girl like her would be with someone who wasn’t a complete lesbian. And she’s the only girl I have any interest in feverishly making out with while a movie tries and fails to catch our attention.
Anyone want to give me some advice? I’m sure she’s got a girlfriend but on the off chance that she doesn’t…how might I get one step closer to those ridiculously hot arm veins?
