As a person that designs goods, and quasi-luxury goods at that, I’ve been feeling myself pulled constantly towards a need to possess nicer things. The desire is persistent, from the things I wear, to the things I use, to the things I plan to acquire next. For clothing, I used to shop at thrift shops—a veritable Mackelmore in my hayday. With an increasingly busy life, I traded the luxury of disposable time for the luxury of disposable income. So, of course, I started shopping at Target. And H&M. But lately, I’ve had a hankering for Zara shirts, and Muji everything. Is this creeping materialism, or growing up…or is it both? But I had today a mild epiphany on the corner of a street in Tokyo, something which I hope to keep oft in mind. There was about an hour left before my train to the airport, and I was headed back to pick up my things from the hotel, when I noticed a mild old man sitting astride a shoe shine box near the subway exit. Now, I’ve never had a shoe shine, and I wasn’t even sure my old dirty boots would quality. Walking over towards him, I drew up my pant legs and gave the universal shoulder/eyebrow sign for “well?” He gestured over towards a yellow laminated sign and gave the universal sign for “got this much?” Taking my seat and pulling up my first boot, I watched the man gingerly apply polish with an old toothbruth, and then proceed to spend ten minutes rigorously polishing each boot. The time spent was enough to make me apprehensive about my train, but was also ripe for reflection. I thought of the lovely patina acquired by leather, and how I appreciate that the layers of polish were in a way a travel momento: in many years time, the boots would have the world’s diversity engrained in them. I thought about the care he gave to my lowly boots, and the importance of not disparaging lesser customers. And then I noticed the shoes the man had on. In a city like Tokyo, the opulence of which is probably matched by only a few other metropoli worldwide, this man must have seen the entire range of footwear: from my lowly Fryes, to the $10,000 (insert-famous-fashion-label). And yet the man wore a pair of black leather slip-ons. They were suple and well polished, but their age was coming through at the edges. Now I know it’s nieve to assume the man had the means to acquire shoes of higher calibre, but some part of me expected that. And it made me think: if this humble man, who sees daily extravegance–if he is content to appreciate the nicer things in life without necessarily posessing them, then perhaps there’s something for me to learn from him. He also did a damn fine job on the boots, which was nice.