■Day 1
"So Hermès" is a show jumping event, a prestigious international competition where elite show jumpers gather at the Grand Palais to compete. It's apparently a "CSI5★" level, the highest in equestrian sports. While I didn't fully grasp the technicalities, I've always harbored a strong desire to ride horses, so the prospect of witnessing a sport steeped in aristocratic tradition filled me with excitement early in the year.

As the departure date neared and I reviewed the schedule, my excitement grew even further. This trip began with two nights in London, where I would attend the Hermès men's collection runway show, followed by a Eurostar journey to Paris.

In London, besides attending the runway show, my itinerary included a visit to White Cube. I was to stay at The Savoy, where I had stayed twice before. Although now a large hotel frequented by tour groups, its lobby, bar, and guest rooms still retain a charm built on tradition and prestige. Changing into bespoke attire at The Savoy and enjoying a cocktail at the bar before dinner would transport me into the world of old 007 – a delightful prospect. It had also been 11 years since my last Eurostar trip. My anticipation was mounting.

On the evening of my arrival, I had dinner at a restaurant near the hotel, walking there with other press members from various countries. It felt like a charming adult field trip, fostering a warm atmosphere. We soon arrived at Petersham Nurseries, a restaurant space nestled within a gardening shop, with a natural ambiance. The picnic-like experience of walking together contributed to everyone feeling relaxed as we entered. After a welcome glass of champagne, we were shown to our tables.

The Japanese press had assigned seating, but since there were free seats, I was momentarily unsure where to sit. As I was the first to arrive at the table, I took the seat furthest in. Gazing around the restaurant, I recalled visiting the original Petersham Nurseries in Richmond 11 years prior. Back then, my family and I were visiting London, and it was the place my wife most wanted to see, based on her research. Even a friend who had lived in London since the 70s was surprised, exclaiming, "To think such a place exists here!"

I remembered the sheer delight of my first organic champagne and lunch enjoyed amidst a vast garden. Now, a refined branch of that establishment existed in the heart of London, Covent Garden. Reflecting on the passage of time, I glanced at my watch.


For this "So Hermès" tour, I had decided to wear something from Hermès. Just before leaving, I purchased mustard-yellow trousers and a white linen handkerchief from the Ginza store.

I planned to pair the trousers with a black Hermès trench coat I bought nearly 20 years ago. The white linen handkerchief, with its translucent beauty, captivated me instantly. It was just a plain white handkerchief, but I was drawn to the impulse of owning something "actually from Hermès."

However, the Hermès item I wore to dinner that evening was not clothing, but a wristwatch purchased about 15 years ago at the Hermès flagship store on Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré. It's the most luxurious and flamboyant watch I own. I bought it during a photography trip to Paris, on the very day I arrived. After arriving, I went straight from the airport to scout locations, still feeling the effects of jet lag, then checked into the hotel for brunch.

That day, with time to spare before an evening fitting, I had opened a bottle of champagne for brunch, which left me quite tipsy. In that elevated state, I headed to the Hermès flagship store. Before coming to Paris, I had seen an advertisement for a new Hermès watch in a magazine and was particularly struck by the design of its dial. I went up to the second floor where the watches were displayed, searching for the model, but couldn't find it. As I approached the final display case, there it was, the watch I was looking for.

I exclaimed, "Ah! This is it!" My eyes, likely filled with excitement, peered into the showcase. A mature, composed French saleswoman approached me, asking, "Would you like to try it on?" The alcohol in my system gave me courage, and within minutes, I had made the purchase. I wanted a brown strap, but only red was available. Being tipsy, I couldn't make a rational decision. I rationalized, thinking, "It will probably mellow with age," and bought the red strap.

Back in Tokyo, as expected, I worried about the garishness of the red. Then, she said, "It doesn't suit you." She hit the nail on the head. For about 15 years afterward, it remained dormant in my closet. But for this trip, wanting to wear as much Hermès as possible, I brought it out. Perhaps it's because I've aged, but the vibrancy of the red now feels more fitting. I felt time had resolved the issue, and a whisper from a shopping demon seemed to gently assure me, "This purchase wasn't a mistake."

Once seated, two memories flooded back in quick succession. Until I was savoring the delicious lamb steak, I don't recall what I ate. Amidst the lively chatter and the clinking of knives and forks, it was a pleasant sensation to be lost in thought, bringing delicious meat and red wine to my lips. That night, I returned to the hotel in a pleasant state of tipsiness, showered, and went to bed.

■Day 2
Waking up at 4:30 AM, I was hit by the inevitable jet lag. I suffer terribly from jet lag. Since my twenties, I've tried every method to combat it – supplements, dietary restrictions, alcohol, exercise – but nothing has worked. Ultimately, I gave up trying to overcome jet lag and decided to accept it as part of my lifestyle after turning 40. Similarly, I've suffered from cedar and cypress pollen allergies since I was 22, but after 40, I stopped fighting it pointlessly.

Yesterday, I went straight to dinner upon arrival and returned to the hotel tipsy before sleeping. I had unpacked, of course, but hadn't yet checked the Hermès invitation and other materials left on my desk. Still groggy from just waking up, I quickly went through them. The plan for today was to visit White Cube in the morning, have an Italian lunch, and then attend the runway show followed by a party in the evening.



Since the evening party was not a seated affair, it seemed wise to have a substantial lunch. After confirming the schedule, I tackled a serialized manuscript for a certain magazine that was nearing its deadline, finishing it in about two hours. I went to fill the bathtub with hot water, then returned to my desk and was exchanging work messages with my editor in Tokyo via LINE when the bathtub water overflowed, reaching the edge of the room. That was close. A narrow escape. I frantically tried to drain the water pooling on the tiled bathroom floor and wiped it up with towels. The grogginess of jet lag vanished in an instant.

I remembered an incident years ago when an editor I was on assignment with in London dozed off in bed after turning on the bathtub faucet, only to wake up to find the room floor turned into a swimming pool. Apparently, travel insurance covered the damages, but I heard it cost a considerable amount. At the time, I thought he was clumsy, but I realized I was the type who could do the same. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I wrung out the towels used to soak up the water with all my might. Before I knew it, it was past 9 o'clock. I had missed English breakfast, but I didn't feel particularly hungry. I chugged a cold Coca-Cola from the fridge, took a shower, and soaked in a piping hot bath.

After the bath and drying my hair, I felt like a walk around the hotel. With 15 minutes until the lobby meeting, I wandered around the hotel's vicinity. Walking against the flow of people heading to work, I spotted a train station ahead. Ah, so everyone was coming from the station. I turned into a side street and found a barber shop. In the 90s, I had the impression that London barbershops were cool! A single chair in a room within an old building, with a master barber who was an exceptional cutter. That was my impression. I believe such shops still exist, but this one was modern. A trendy barber shop, the kind you see in big cities like New York, London, or Tokyo.

Returning to the lobby, we headed to White Cube together. The exhibition we were visiting was a solo show by Tracey Emin. Personally, I wouldn't have come if I hadn't been invited. She directly expresses her painful experiences through photographs, paintings, and poetry, all gathered in one space. I spent about an hour there.

The weight of her suffering felt palpable. While viewing the works, I didn't think "what a beautiful painting" or "a good photograph," but the fact that everything I saw is still etched in my mind means they were undoubtedly works of immense impact. It was an exhibition enveloped in profound magic. Seeing the artist's own videos, photographs, and paintings, I found it interesting to note that she is an artist who pays attention to her attire. To put it simply, Tracey Emin is "stylish." This is important to me; when artists, architects, musicians, and others pay attention to what they wear, my interest in them doubles.

After leaving the gallery, we had some time for Instagram. While scrolling through my phone, I boarded the limousine. Having only had a single Coca-Cola since morning, I was starving. Excitingly, we headed to Café Murano. London's Italian restaurants, compared to Paris, are of a high standard. Most places serve pasta al dente... or so they should. However, based on my past experiences, I lack the courage to order pasta outside of Italy and Japan, so I decided to skip the pasta and order meat.


At 7 PM, we gathered in the lobby. I wore the mustard-yellow Hermès trousers I bought the day before leaving Japan, paired with the black trench coat I purchased about 20 years ago, and my watch from about 15 years ago. It felt a bit unusual, but at a party, a quirky outfit can be more interesting.



During the collection, I paid special attention to Gaku Uchida, the only Japanese model. His expression, his walk – everything about him was fresh and invigorating, leaving me with a sense of pure joy. He seemed to perfectly embody the Hermès brand image.

Afterward, there was a live performance by Phoenix at the party venue, and Louis Roederer champagne was served. I had a chance encounter with Biard Odouart, the designer of POKIT, and we had a lively conversation. Beyond that, I don't remember much...



■Day 3
My second morning in London, I was determined to have breakfast. So, I confronted the lingering effects of last night's champagne with a hot morning bath and a strong shower. Afterward, I headed to the restaurant next to the lobby. Gazing out at the garden, I poured warm milk into my hot English breakfast tea and slowly stirred it with a spoon. I spread butter on the triangular brown toast and generously drizzled honey over it. First, a sip of tea, then a bite of toast. I repeated this for a while, switching to black tea without milk for the second cup. For the second slice of toast, I had only butter, followed by sausage, bacon, fried eggs, tomatoes, and potatoes... A steady, uninterrupted feast. In between, I drank fresh orange juice and sparkling water, finishing with another cup of straight tea.

I remember when my son, who was obsessed with Harry Potter, was still in elementary school, we went to see Platform 9¾. Such nostalgic memories. Upon arrival, we immediately went through immigration and baggage checks. All luggage, including trunks, is treated as hand luggage, so getting onto the train involves a considerable process. Loading the large trunk onto the (high) inspection table is quite a task. However, when struggling, helping hands from people in front and behind smoothly appear. Truly, the land of gentlemen and ladies.

Once on the train, I found myself seated opposite Mr. Suzuki, the editor of GQ. It was enjoyable catching up after so long, but what was most impressive was the meal served on the Eurostar (in first class). First, an appetizer was served, followed by a choice of wine, beer, or soft drinks. Then, there were two options for a warm main course, and finally, a dessert. It was akin to business class on an airplane. The view from the train was also superb, making for a very worthwhile journey.

Editor Suzuki praised it, saying, "You can't experience service like this on the Shinkansen," and "It's so humane and wonderful." Hearing him say that, I realized, "You're right." Thinking back, the Shinkansen used to have dining cars... While the quality of service differs greatly, you could get a hot meal and order beer or whiskey properly. Why did the Shinkansen dining cars disappear?

A warm meal, wine served in a glass – for a journey of just over two hours, it offers a "good time" that goes beyond mere travel. It's even possible that one might travel to Europe just to ride the Eurostar. That's how comfortable it is. Japan has the enjoyment of ekiben (station bento boxes), but this offered a different kind of hospitality (an old-fashioned term!).

Arriving at Gare du Nord in Paris, I checked into my hotel. Afterward, we immediately headed to the Grand Palais.

I visited the booth where Hermès saddle makers were presenting their latest creations. The booth, adorned with Hermès' signature elegant orange and yellow, exuded an unparalleled sense of freshness.

The two newly unveiled saddles were beautiful and stylish.





After the press interview surrounding the craftsman, I briefly observed the preliminary jumping competition.

All the horses had a beautiful sheen. They must have been meticulously brushed. Although I watched without any prior knowledge and didn't understand the rules, I was moved by the riders' tense postures and expressions.





After dinner, I returned to the hotel and looked up Yoshie Hotta, whom Editor Suzuki had mentioned on the Eurostar earlier that day, using Google. It was so interesting that two hours passed in the blink of an eye, and then it was time for bed.



■Day 4
In the morning, I went to the Hermès store on Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré. I was guided to a room on the fourth or fifth floor where Hermès' archive items and vintage pieces collected by successive owners were displayed. It felt like exploring a treasure trove.

A case designed to hold all the personal effects of an officer during the Napoleonic era was particularly impressive. It was a leather box containing a hand mirror, glasses, pipe, pen, lens, and various other necessities, all compactly stored without any wasted space. It was simply magnificent. Naturally, it wasn't something easily carried, but the act of transporting irreplaceable belongings with such care was captivating.

The style of cherishing and using the finest, meticulously chosen items, with no disposable goods in sight – I deeply admire that. "Luxury is when the user feels comfortable, even in parts that are not visible," explained the Hermès staff member who guided me. Those words still echo in my mind from time to time.

Afterward, I watched the semi-final competition at the Grand Palais.

I had lunch at the venue. The dining area was vast and fascinating. Food to satisfy the appetites of an immense number of spectators was available. Meat, fish, shellfish, salads, fruits, desserts – freshly prepared dishes were laid out everywhere. We picked our own food in a buffet style. Like a food stall street, there were booths for different dishes, so there were no long waits. If you found something you wanted, you'd queue briefly to pick it up. The number of customers was staggering, but there were also plenty of tables and seats, so there was no need to rush. It was impressive how everything was managed so smoothly despite the huge crowd.

After watching the competition to my heart's content, I went shopping at the Hermès flagship store. As a souvenir (?), I purchased two zip cases made from silk with geometric patterns. I plan to use them to organize my carry-on items during business trips. Afterward, I returned to the hotel for a siesta. Upon waking, I showered and dressed formally for dinner.

The grand banquet was also held at the Grand Palais. Dining at the Grand Palais was a first for me. Dressed in a dark suit and wearing my Hermès watch, I attended. The entrance, stairs, foyer, cocktail area, and dining space were all illuminated with different pop colors, which was very pleasant. The screen separating the cocktail and dining areas, composed of fresh flowers, was also quite striking.

An Hermès staff member at my table noticed my watch and said, "This series is no longer in production and is quite rare, so please take good care of it." Hearing this made me feel as if I had discovered a treasure.



After the meal, I walked around the competition grounds from earlier in the day. In contrast to the daytime bustle, the arena at night, cloaked in silence, felt serene and cool.

■Day 5
The plan for today was to watch the finals and then head home. First, I checked out of the hotel and then went for lunch. My last meal in Paris was at the North African restaurant "Chez Omar," a popular spot frequented by locals. While couscous is their specialty, I opted for the fillet steak as my main course with ratatouille as a side dish. I shared some couscous with the editor-in-chief of Casa Brutus magazine, who was sitting opposite me. Indeed, everything was delicious. The lively staff and the restaurant's atmosphere further enhanced my appetite.



After lunch, we headed to the Grand Palais. Back in the tense atmosphere of the competition arena. The situation was the same as yesterday and the day before, but the finals had an even more glamorous mood in the stands. The riders and horses seemed to be at an even higher level of excitement. I even managed to catch a glimpse of a spectacular equestrian performance held before the competition. Perhaps I lingered too long over lunch...

It was a shame that I couldn't watch the thrilling finals until the end due to my flight schedule. As I left the Grand Palais, I reflected on the past four days spent attending the 10th "So Hermès" event, hosted by Hermès. It was a journey that allowed me to recall many forgotten things and encounter many new experiences. As the Parisian dusk settled, Yoshida Takuro's song "Genki desu!" (I'm fine!) inexplicably played in my mind.