Hostesses & High Fives: A Walk of Shame Through Wieden+Kennedy
That time I brought two Japanese hostesses to work and accidentally became an office legend.
I haven’t really dug into my day to day life during my Tokyo years. Not in any real detail anyway. I was young. Well, younger. Twenty six, full of Mr. Coffee and blind optimism. It was the mid to late nineties, that sweet spot before the internet started telling us how to feel about everything. Indie music, film, and lifestyle culture were in full bloom. And being an artist? That felt like the golden ticket. The key to a fulfilling and layered life. I was in it. Fully.
I was journaling religiously with mixed media madness. Scraps of thoughts and ticket stubs glued onto the pages like my brain had exploded with glue sticks. My CD Walkman was practically an appendage. I have these vivid memories of riding the subway and Skytrain, headphones blasting Future Sound of London, Underworld, The Crystal Method, and every so often, Jane’s Addiction, just to keep things emotionally unstable.
Most days I’d lose hours flipping through record bins, haunting art museum shops, and tiny bookstores tucked away on side streets. Tokyo had this endless depth to it. Every corner felt like it was hiding something just for you. And to discover it? You had to show up. You had to smell it, taste it, point at it awkwardly while playing charades with your server. I didn’t stay in the flat much, not back then. I mean, I had a flat, but I treated it more like a recharging station. Life was out there. So I was too.
Now? Not so much.
I’m currently in Hanoi, Vietnam, waiting to signed the lease on my new flat. It was supposed to happen Friday. Then Sunday. Now, hopefully today!! YAY!!! Very Vietnamese pace. I’m learning to appreciate it in a deeply relaxed or mildly anxious kind of way. But even with the delays, there’s this feeling of lightness. Of okayness. Like, I don’t know exactly what I’m doing with my life, but for once I’m not panicking about it. That might be growth. Or maybe it’s just the heat.
Truth is, I’ve already seen most of the tourist sites in Hanoi on past visits. So I haven’t felt much pressure to explore like I used to. And yet, somehow, that has created space. Inspiration has crept back in. I’ve started cleaning up my personal website. Even thinking about hustling for freelance work here in Southeast Asia. Yes, that was a hint. Consider yourself nudged.
Since leaving Wisconsin, I’ve been working on a short film about the whole process. Leaving. Moving. Wandering. Trying not to totally combust. I shot a new segment in Bangkok recently and honestly, I love it. You can check it out if you're curious or just need a reason to procrastinate responsibly.
So yeah. I’ve been holed up in my little homestay. Reading, working, tinkering, and mostly staying in. And when the guilt creeps in that voice that whispers you're wasting time, you should be doing something cultural or meaningful or sweaty I grab my notebook, find a café, and watch the city roll past on scooters and cyclos in chaotic elegance.
That’s when I start thinking about Tokyo again.
About what life looked like when I lived there. About the people. LF, MO, Bella, GON, Myumi, Satomi, Chris, Bobby, Keiko. A whole crew of strange and beautiful souls I somehow convinced to befriend me.
Back then I survived on a completely non doctor approved diet of coffee, ramen, bento boxes, beer, cigarettes, Advil, and Pepto Bismol. Honestly, some of that hasn’t changed. Okay, minus the smokes and booze. I’ve always had a temperamental stomach. Still not sure if it was the 2 a.m. drinking binges or the eight coffees a day. Probably both. Fun fact: I did end up in the hospital in Bangkok with bleeding ulcers. But we’ll get to that later. Consider this a teaser.
Lori and I had moved to Shimokitazawa, a neighborhood so effortlessly cool it made you feel like a character in an indie movie just by living there. Think narrow alleys filled with vintage shops, record stores, and coffee houses with actual record players. That is where I smelled for the very first time, fresh roasted coffee. It became our hangout. Well across the street on the steps. It had soul. It also had, this being the nineties, a few guys at the train station quietly selling weed, hash, or shrooms. Tokyo’s own little secret menu.
The only downside was the commute. Getting to work was a bit of a haul.
By work, I mean both the day job and the night hustle. By day, I was Larry’s assistant at Wieden and Kennedy Tokyo. The legendary ad agency. Which sounds glamorous, and sometimes was, but mostly I was a glorified office PA with a front row seat to Nike campaigns and the best coffee table art book collection.
By night, I worked at One Eye Jacks, a club in Roppongi, where I made surprisingly meaningful friendships with a few hostesses. Satomi and Myumi. We even went to Disneyland together, completely unironically. It was pure joy. Roller coasters and all.
Routine looked like this:
Work all day.
Work all night.
Drink until sunrise.
Eat to sober up.
Catch the first train.
Or take a cab.
Or on the more existential nights, go full noir protagonist and sit in a 24 hour Denny’s chain smoking and nursing coffee until the sun came up.
This was before smoking bans. Denny’s had those thin, gold toned aluminum ashtrays that made even a cheap cigarette feel like a prop in a French New Wave film. I felt like a caffeinated, bleary eyed philosopher in a poorly lit booth.
Some nights, if the weather was decent, I would walk to the club. An hour from the Wieden and Kennedy office. Headphones on. Walkman spinning something weird and rhythmic. It made the whole double life feel kind of poetic.
And then came that one morning.
We were about to leave Denny’s, me, Myumi, Satomi, and a couple others when I realized I didn’t have my flat keys. Not at the club. That would’ve made sense. I had left them at the office.
At Wieden and Kennedy.
It was 7:30 AM. I was still in my night shift clothes. Eyes red from smoke and regret.
“Wanna see where I work during the day?” I asked.
“Iku iku” they said. (Let’s GO, Let’s GO) Cute Kawaii Japanese Girl
So we went. Rolled right up to the front desk at 8 AM. Me and two stunning hostesses trailing behind like it was a scene from an ad campaign nobody approved.
The guys in the office? Silently giving me psychic high fives.
The women? Less impressed. More of a slow WTH nod. Half disbelief, half observational study.
I smiled and explained I’d left my keys. Promised I’d be back by 1 PM. The girls were perfectly polite and charming. Introduced themselves with gentle bows. We were in and out in ten minutes flat.
When I returned that afternoon, one of the creatives pulled me aside.
“That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. But you might want to decide. Wieden and Kennedy full time? Or the night gig?”
Totally fair.
I did decide. Eventually.
But that moment. That walk through the office with two hostesses and a hangover that could have taken out a small horse.
Yeah. That worked out great.
That was an amazing time to be alive. Still is. I’m writing this from my weekly rental in Hanoi. DJ Nobu is spinning on NTS Radio. If you don’t know about NTS, please go fix that. It’s like the internet’s cooler, smarter sibling. Two live channels at all times and an archive that feels endless.
Last night I saw a soundscape artist perform here in the city. Found him through the Algorithm, which apparently is good for something other than giving me shoe ads and existential dread. It felt like a sign. Like maybe moving to Hanoi was exactly the right thing. I hadn’t been to a live show since last October. It felt good. Like really good. We had met up a few days prior, nerded out over gear, and talked creative process. He is building his own machines. Inventing tools. Pushing things forward. It was a shot of inspiration to the heart.
Now with a new flat on the horizon, I feel like I’m ready to start making things again. To plant some roots. Even if just in the form of a suitcase that finally gets to stay put.
And while I’m tempted to climb up on a soapbox and shout "Get out there. Make memories. Live your weird beautiful life," I know you’ve got your own boxes to check and your own chaos to juggle.
So I’ll just say this.
Stay curious.
Stay weird.
And when in doubt, go to the cafe.
LOVE & LIGHT
MM
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