STORE OF PLENTY

Department stores in Japan are curated treasure troves of pure joy. LEE TULLOCH discovers the thrill of glorious food halls and meticulous origami-style packaging.

- LEE TULLOCH

IF YOU TIME YOUR ARRIVAL AT MITSUKOSHI department store in Tokyo’s Ginza for precisely 10am when the store opens, you'll be greeted by a line-up of bowing sales assistants, all wishing you irasshaimase, or “welcome.” It’s a ritual I try not to miss whenever in Tokyo because it’s the only time in my life I get to feel like visiting royalty.

Japanese department stores are wonderful little worlds unto themselves, and I’m obsessed with them. They're full of treasures, such as mad hats, beautiful crafts and marvellous cooking implements you wouldn’t find outside of Japan, all exquisitely packaged and wrapped with a level of courtesy you rarely find anywhere else in the world.

From rooftop golf putting ranges to kawaii children’s toyshops and dazzling food halls, they're sensory feasts that can swallow you up like Narnia. I've lost whole chunks of my life in the food halls, marvelling at the shapes of rice crackers and the mochi, or sweets, enveloped in lovely papers.

The idea of departments or compartmentalised sections seems very Japanese, like bento boxes. The earliest depāto, or department stores, started as kimono or lacquerware shops, which supplied luxury goods during the Edo and Meiji periods. Then, at the beginning of the 20th century, those specialist shops expanded their offerings to attract more local customers as well as foreigners visiting the modernising country.