A monthly street fashion column by Yutaro Saito

From Nerima to Shinjuku, then transferring to the Sobu Line, the train clattering along for about an hour, I found myself in Kinshicho. “Kin” means “gold,” and here you have the Sobu Line, the yellow Yodobashi Camera at the south exit, and the yellow Don Quijote at the north exit. The golden town: Kinshicho.

Whenever I come to Kinshicho, there’s one place I always visit: “WINS,” just across the main road from the south exit. No matter when you go, it’s packed with old men clutching paper and pens, glued to the horse racing broadcast. The old men at WINS always have fantastic fashion, and above all, there’s a strikingly high rate of fishing vests. Why? Because they need to carry around a huge stash of betting tickets, racing newspapers, and pens. In such cases, a fishing vest, with its many pockets and quick access, is perfect. Fishing vests may be over performance in the city, but they suit the old men at WINS perfectly. This is what I call NOT PLASTIC FASHION. Overwhelmed by the intensity of the men staring at the monitors, I didn’t feel like I could approach anyone, so I left the place.

Back at the south exit plaza, two young performers were putting on a street show. Nearby, someone was hawking Asian-style souvenirs, the kind you’d find in Thailand. Not far from them, a right-wing group had parked their vehicle and were giving speeches from atop it. Amid the chaos, as I looked around, I noticed a man with a red synthetic fiber outfit shimmering in the sunlight. Sitting on a railing, his back to the plaza, he caught my eye. The harmony of the bright yellow afternoon sun, past 2 p.m., and the synthetic red fabric was so beautiful that I couldn’t resist calling out to him.

YT (Yutaro Saito): “Excuse me! I’m a photographer, and I’ve been shooting fashion focused on older people. I thought this red color looked incredibly cool, may I take your photo?”

OJ (Ojiichan): “Huh, oh… me?”

The man, who said he was 70, shyly agreed.

YT: “What were you doing just now?”

OJ: “Just taking a break. I’ve been cleaning up trash around here.”

YT: “Oh really? For work?”

OJ: “No, just voluntary.”

Apparently, this man voluntarily picks up trash in Kinshicho almost every day. Indeed, though it was only early May, his arms, visible beneath his red training jacket, were already deeply tanned, the kind of tan you only get by being outdoors constantly. His outfit - a track suit, sneakers, a waist pouch that left his hands free - was perfectly suited for trash collecting. Inside the pouch, he carried small trash bags.

YT: “So you do this voluntarily? That’s wonderful!”

OJ: “Lately, with more foreigners around, there’s more trash too.”

YT: “I see. And what’s that on your head?”

OJ: “I found it while picking up trash. Don’t know what it is. Lots of things get thrown away even though they’re still usable.”

On his red cap was something like a headband. Curious, I asked about it, and he explained it was something he found while cleaning. It kept his hat from falling off, he said. In that sense, it was another adaptation tailored to the activity of trash collecting. Collecting trash with tools found while collecting trash, somehow, it felt very SDGs.

His love for Kinshicho, and for the planet itself, seemed to merge him with the Earth. Even though he was dressed in clothes made of plastic.