If you missed the previous journey, you can check out [Tokyo Research Part 4] here.
Following my previous exploration, I headed to Omotesando Avenue. This area offered a striking contrast, blending charming, cafe-lined alleys with a prestigious luxury district that radiates sophistication.
I stepped into a cafe called PHILOCOFFEA (Omotesando branch). After waiting quite a while to enter—a testament to its immense popularity—I immediately understood why it was so beloved. The barista kindly walked me through every detail, from the cafe’s rich history to the nuances of their specific brewing process, as they meticulously prepared the coffee.
The atmosphere, featuring exposed concrete reminiscent of the renowned Japanese architect Tadao Ando, was deeply fascinating. With a large, vibrant plant at the center and seating arranged exclusively around the surrounding pillars, the layout encouraged people to sit at a comfortable distance from one another. Since there were no separate coffee tables and no chairs other than those attached to the pillars, the space felt masterfully designed to allow patrons to enjoy their coffee while experiencing the luxury of wide-open, “empty” space.
I once heard an architect mention on YouTube that having a tree or a pillar next to a seating area creates a subtle, yet powerful sense of separation, providing a private sanctuary even if someone is sitting just a few feet away. Despite sharing the larger room with others, the generous, thoughtful spacing made me feel as though I were in a very private, personal environment, perfect for deep thought.
After leaving the cafe, I spent some time wandering through the backstreets. Every building possessed its own unique character, making the stroll incredibly engaging. Each alley offered a different vibe, brimming with individual flair.
I’ve heard that the concept of “Event Space” is applied to urban planning here. When buildings vary significantly in style and form, every step reveals a new facet of the street, making it a highly walkable and dynamic neighborhood. It was truly a district where one could never get bored. If the characters in my novel were to visit, I imagine they would be doubly surprised—first by the grandeur of the main street and then by the hidden, charming details of the alleys—running around with pure excitement and curiosity.
I also stumbled upon a MoMA (Museum of Modern Art) Design Store, just like the one in New York. Nearby was a striking restroom with glass walls that complemented the area’s sophisticated aesthetic.
A notable difference from New York is that Japan has public outdoor restrooms scattered throughout the city. I was truly impressed by the fact that anyone can use a clean, well-maintained restroom, regardless of which building or cafe they are in. While Tokyo’s subways are famously clean, I realized that public restrooms truly require every member of society to take responsibility for them to remain pristine at a low maintenance cost.
Since individual behavior in a restroom cannot be regulated by law in every detail, a certain level of social consensus is necessary to manage such facilities effectively. If public facilities are constantly dirtied or broken, the social cost skyrockets, leading buildings and cafes to restrict access to outsiders. Ultimately, I felt that living in a functional city requires a continuous social investment to maintain a certain level of civic consciousness among its members.
While maintaining this consensus and standard incurs real costs, it is clearly a collective gain if everyone uses these public spaces cleanly and responsibly. I firmly believe it is far more important for a city to create facilities that 10,000 people can use with pride, rather than exclusive, high-end ones designed for only 100. Such shared responsibility is the cornerstone of Tokyo’s urban functionality.
This area is known as a wealthy district where many celebrities reside. Consequently, the cars were generally high-end, and the architecture ranged from charming to magnificent. A prime example is the Harakado building, which opened in 2024 and was designed by the visionary architect Akihisa Hirata.
Instead of merely packing expensive land with dense, high-rise blocks, the practice of constructing buildings with diverse architectural identities is a key differentiator that sets Tokyo apart from other cities. The final photo was taken from the rooftop of that building, looking down at the cityscape.
I absolutely loved how they developed a lush, accessible rooftop park, allowing people to come and go freely, blending nature with urban life. As my characters witness the various splendors of Tokyo, I find myself wondering if this specific location will make it into the final manuscript. It is, perhaps, a happy dilemma to have.
*This field research is part of a pre-production phase for this website’s multimedia project. All analyzed locations are selected based on their socioeconomic relevance to the target market.