Day 2

The next morning, we returned to the venue. I bravely joined the〈Social LAB〉, but unfortunately, my poor English skills led to a swift retreat. The Japanese contingent headed to Chinatown for lunch. On the way, GQ's Editor Suzuki mused, "There's a song about San Francisco's Chinatown, isn't there?" I immediately sang back, "I know it! ♫ San Francisco's Chinatowwwn~♫, right?!" The bus fell silent as if frozen.

The next moment, an original song began playing from someone's phone. The silence in the car had been due to them Googling. Hamako Watanabe's voice filled the air, and I realized my harmony was off in both lyrics and pitch. Then, seeing the song's title, I learned for the first time that San Francisco is written as "桑港" (Sōkō).

The restaurant we headed to was a popular spot that doesn't take reservations. We braced ourselves for a wait, and naturally, we had to wait, given it was lunchtime and our group was large. Although a local party cut in front of us, GQ's Editor Suzuki, with English superior to that of the Americans, lodged a strong complaint with the restaurant. Thanks to him, we avoided the frustrating and unfair experience of not getting a table.

Still, every time I visit San Francisco, I'm struck by how delicious the food is, especially for America. Overall, the flavors and seasonings often have an Asian base. Even in French or Italian restaurants, the taste seems tailored to Asian palates. This is likely due to the significant proportion of Asian residents. Consequently, I've never encountered the "large but not tasty" establishments that are common in New York or Los Angeles.




After lunch, we returned to the hotel. In our room, we found three postcards of Alberto Santos-Dumont. His wide-brimmed hat, tight vest, A-line maxi coat, long-silhouette suit, high-collared shirt that concealed the neck, loose tie, and thick beard – all of it merged with his elegant aura.

I found myself staring at the three cards for a long time. His photographs, which reveal him as a stylish man before he was an aviator, struck a chord. Alberto Santos-Dumont, who transitioned from Brazilian coffee plantations to Parisian high society around 1900. His adventurous spirit and charming inner self radiated directly from these three images.

Hearing stories of country folk arriving in a great metropolis and astonishing the cultural elite stirs a pang in my heart. Those from the countryside who overturn the conservative ideas and norms of the city in unexpected ways. Louis Cartier was captivated by the charm of such a samurai-like figure, Alberto Santos-Dumont.

I was also deeply intrigued by his pure and magnanimous personality. If men like him existed today, everyone would undoubtedly look up to them. Afterward, we watched a special movie featuring Jake Gyllenhaal. "I see. So this is how it's done in contemporary style~" I was profoundly moved by the visual artistry.

In the evening, we went to Mourad, a Moroccan restaurant. "Why Moroccan food in San Francisco?" I wondered as we went, but it was delicious. Apparently, it's the restaurant of Chef Mourad Lahlou, the first to earn a Michelin star for Moroccan cuisine worldwide. This chef's pioneering spirit might share something with Alberto Santos-Dumont's.

At Mourad, everything—the interior, the staff's demeanor, and of course, the food—was refined. I had imagined the exoticism of the couscous restaurants I used to be taken to in Paris, but Mourad was stylish and cool in every aspect, from the spice containers to their presentation.

At Mourad, I spoke with Licht, seated directly opposite me, for the first time in six months. Licht divides his time between Tokyo and Portland, spending half a month in each. He told me about both the joys and the tedium of country life in Portland. His monthly round trips between Tokyo and Portland must be exhausting due to jet lag, but I find it somewhat enviable.




After the meal, we headed to the venue, where a red carpet was laid out. For my party look, I paired a bow blouse, made with Gucci DIY, with a suit. It was my first time wearing a bow blouse. While I was fumbling with how to tie the bow, I was called for the photo call and managed a forced smile in an unfamiliar setting. I still can't get used to posing in front of these branded boards. Even past fifty, I find it terribly difficult.

After the photoshoot, we entered the party hall. Amidst finger foods, champagne, and vodka tonics, we immersed ourselves in the live music. Soon, "Phoenix" took the stage.

I remembered that about 15 years ago, Hedi Slimane brought them to Tokyo for a Dior Homme collection. They performed in a similarly large setup back then. And Licht was there beside me again~. A flashback. The night deepened with champagne, vodka, and the sound of drums and guitar.

• Experiencing the Spirit of Santos: A Journey to San Francisco Vol. 1

• Experiencing the Spirit of Santos: A Journey to San Francisco Vol. 3