Lucky Bags: A New Year's Day Tradition

More than a hundred years ago, in the late Meiji period, a Tokyo department store came up with the brilliant idea of bagging up their excess merchandise from the previous year and selling those "mystery bags" to customers for deep discounts on New Year's Day.  The idea caught on with other merchants and these days fukubukuro (lucky bag, mystery bag) are more often filled with new products than last year's leftovers.

Fukubukuro come at a variety of different prices. Most bags we eyed today went for $20 or $30 but I also spotted some tempting $100 bags stuffed with yarn at the craft store, all the more tempting because the bags were clear.

We opted to fork over $30 to a pair of charming young clerks manning a table outside the new Tully's coffee shop on Blue Street.  Their fukubukuro was packaged in a nice zippered case rather than the usual paper or plastic bag and the case alone seemed like a pretty good investment.  The cases were available in two colors, pink and grey, and I had my hand on a pink one until the Ancient Mariner suggested a grey one would make a nice "man-purse".

When I remember where I put my camera, I'll snap off a few photos of the case and its contents:  five coupons for free coffee, a 5-pound bag of Guatemalan coffee, six instant drip coffee packets, a Year of the Dragon ceramic mug, and an airtight humidor for storing coffee.

If the Ancient Mariner hadn't been with me, I definitely would have carried home one or two of those yarn fukubukuro too.  I'm counting the hours until he goes back to work.

On the Appeal of Japanese Department Stores

Take it from this non-shopper: Japanese department stores are amazing.

When the Battle of Kate's Throat took a sharp turn in favor of the antibiotics Monday, we jumped on a train bound for Yokohama and spent a few pleasant hours wandering around Sogo department store. Sogo offers everything a person can imagine spread over 13 floors from the sub-basement food emporium to the rooftop garden center where toddlers can romp on artificial turf while their older siblings score goals on the adjacent soccer field. With over 25 restaurants to choose from on the tenth floor, it's hard to decide what to eat. There's even a floor devoted to wedding planning.


The store had a "Girlish Culture" theme going to usher in the new year. We saw Hello Kitty in different incarnations on every floor as we worked our way down the escalator from the roof. This one (above) was in the sub-basement near the entrance to the train station. The people behind Hello Kitty are in line to pick up their New Year's meals: enough food to last three days because Japanese women don't have to cook from December 30 until January 2. (This strikes me as a lovely tradition other countries ought to seriously consider borrowing.)


These dads (above) are catching some rays while their toddlers work off excess energy.The roof offers a splendid view (below). Since the glass walls are at least twelve feet high, there's no chance of falling off the roof either accidentally or on purpose.

While recuperating Kate sipped a strawberry-blueberry smoothie, Mike bought some wine and Belgian beer in the sub-basement. ("Hmm," he seems to be thinking, "perhaps we ought to invest in one of those big casks of sake for Matt's graduation party.")

It's a good thing I'm not much of a shopper or I might spend all my waking hours exploring department stores. And I wouldn't have to brave bad weather to do so since most of the department stores here are connected directly to train and/or subway stations.