Looking for old things, finding a new Tokyo

A space where the city's relationship with its past becomes visible, where things are not discarded lightly but are given a chance to be rediscovered

- By IAN MAGBANUA

A 1990S CASIO CMD-10 (center) with infrared controls. This one was exclusively given to ASAHI employees and goes for $750.

On my recent trip to Tokyo, I realized how familiar my routine had become. It's my fourth visit, and most of those trips revolved around malls, outlets, and shopping streets. This time, I wanted something different. I'd been seeing posts about the Tokyo City Flea Market and, as a fan of local ukay-ukay culture, I wanted to see what this city lets go of, and what stories remain in the things no longer found on bright retail shelves.

The flea market is held every weekend at the parking lot of Oi Racecourse, also known as Tokyo City Keiba (TCK), one of the most popular horse-racing courses in Tokyo. It opens at 9 a.m. and closes promptly at 1:30 p.m. Depending on the weekend, around 300 to 500 vendors set up shop, each using one slot for their vehicle and the next for their wares.

The atmosphere is calm despite the scale. It is a noticeable contrast to the high-energy commercial districts Tokyo is known for, where advertisements, screens, and crowds compete for attention. Here, the pace shifts. People take their time with older things, revealing a quieter, more grounded layer beneath Tokyo's commercial image. There is no rush, no loud persuasion, no blaring music. The crowd is a good mix of what I reckon are tourists, and from the chitchat, an equal number of Japanese locals.

At the open area of the parking lot, clothing occupies the early stretch. Neatly hung jackets share space with giant heaps of shirts and trousers. Vintage Americana seems to be popular here. Shoppers move with deliberateness, inspecting seams, feeling fabric, and holding garments up to the light.