Japan's macho males

"What is that guy wearing?" Seated nearby on the train was a man in his late 20s (or 30s — the Japanese are blessed with the appearance of eternal youth), dressed in an ensemble that I could only describe as vaudevillian. From his pink hair extensions and rhinestone-covered trucker hat to his excessively tight jeans and pointy-toed metallic shoes, he was clad in the types of things that none of my male friends would feel comfortable even looking at, let alone wearing.

Mr Fashionista sat without any evident self-consciousness, which would have been unwarranted in any case because we two were the only ones looking at him. Was everyone else blind? Did they not notice the veritable freak show sitting unassumingly on the Yamanote line? After he got off at Shibuya (naturally), my friend and I openly made fun of him, certain that we had just seen something truly extraordinary.

This was my first experience with the strange phenomenon that is Tokyo men’s fashion and, predictably, my initial reaction was derision. As time passed, however, I became aware that the Yamanote line man was by no means a unique case. I realized that, while the basic rules of fashion are ostensibly universal, Japan is a separate world altogether. Everything from shoes (cowboy boot slip-ons, anyone?) to hairstyles to the appropriate way to layer clothes is unique.

I passed along my observations to several Japanese friends, who in turn had a good laugh when I mentioned that the standard uniform of the American college student is jeans and a sweatshirt (sometimes they even comb their hair). Here I was mocking what I believed a ridiculous obsession with creative dressing, but didn't I secretly wish that people back home do the same? Didn't I wish that an American man could be so boldly stylish without having the stigma of sexual confusion attached to him? In a way I admired the courage it must take for a man to wear, with absolute confidence, anything that struck his fancy. Even when I thought it looked pretty bad — which was often — I couldn't help but be impressed if he pulled it off with attitude.

Urban areas are more inclined toward metrosexual menswear, but nowhere other than Tokyo have I seen so many funky-haircut-sporting, feminine-shoe-wearing, fake-tan-getting male specimens. After a while, I was no longer surprised by even the most far-out folks (you know you are starting to feel at home in Tokyo when you pass by a group of scantily dressed transvestites and they don't get a second glance), and instead of ridiculing certain men's fashion choices (pink fingernails, really?), I applauded their bravado in daring to resist bland conformity.

One Japanese friend — a fashion student, no less — noted that "it's not just about dressing weird. It's how people keep from all being the same." This made sense to me; in a densely populated, conformist society where it's easy to fall into identical patterns as everyone else, it's important to try and express your individuality through fashion choices, if for no other reason than to remind the world — and yourself — that you're human and your personal style is only your own. Whether it's a trend or something completely original, the only important thing is how you feel when you wear something that might actually catch people's eyes. Who am I to judge? Perhaps it's better to be ridiculed than to be overlooked completely.

My friends in the States ask me about the outrageous things I've seen in Tokyo. They are especially curious about the fashion, which is universally perceived as quirky and offbeat, if not completely insane. I had similar preconceived notions upon my arrival here; at first, I had the surreal sensation that I had stumbled into a video game. As time passed and I grew acclimated, I didn't stop noticing the hyper-fashionable tendencies of many men, but I did start to see things differently. It takes very little courage to wear an outfit straight out of a catalogue, or to blindly follow a trend because it's what your friends think is cool. What is truly brave is to wake up in the morning, boldly gel your hair where no hair has gone before, fearlessly don ridiculously oversized sunglasses, wage war with skin-tight jeans, and face the world without deference to anyone else's opinion. What could be more macho than that?

Sarah Andrus is a linguistics major at Cornell University in New York.