Harajuku at Peak Saturation

The heat in Tokyo that summer was something you had to walk into—not weather exactly, more like a wall with humidity built in. Harajuku on a weekend afternoon compounds it: the Takeshita Street crowd pressed together, crepe stands doing brisk business, and everywhere girls in full Gothic Lolita or Decora gear standing the heat in petticoats and platform boots with completely neutral expressions on their faces. The commitment deserves real respect. I remember stopping at the entrance of that narrow street and taking a moment before joining the shuffle—watching the candy-colored hair and layered skirts and the absolute indifference toward anyone staring. Whatever I thought I knew about fashion as expression before that afternoon, Harajuku quietly revised. This wasn’t expression aimed at an audience. It was armor, or ritual, or both.