Under my para para para

It's happening, I am slowly becoming the wayward gaijinette who is falling prey to the native customs. I'm long past using the Sound Princess and carrying my purse in the crook of my arm and this past week I took it to a whole other level: the parasol, or sun umbrella, if you will. Summer after summer I thought that I could avoid the parasol, thinking of it as one of those things I could get away with in Japan but nowhere else (except other Asian countries that place a premium on milky whiteness), but I have succumbed gentle readers. I found myself rustling through the sale racks at oioi (or "Marui" if you must), with determination to walk out of there with either a fabulous wide-brimmed hat a la Hollywood starlets in bygone eras or a parasol.

I will admit to being a bit of a vampire this summer - rarely venturing outdoors on weekdays until twilight - but when I am outside I'd like to avoid sunburn and with my tall nose and all, sometimes sunscreen just doesn't cut it. There's also the grease factor and I'd rather not use sunscreen when I am only going to be exposed for less than 30 minutes. Perhaps you have seen some of the summer fashions of the sun-conscious faction around town these past few weeks. I wouldn't exactly call them fetching with the black arm "warmers" and what I can only call "Asian lady visors." I first encountered the ALV in Vancouver, where the older Chinese ladies like to rock out in the summer wearing these over sized visors that you can pick up at the suburban Asian malls.

Determined not to fall victim to this, uh, trend, I thought a tasteful hat or parasol would shade me from the harsh rays. During my foraging attempt at oioi, I nixed the hat idea after seeing some "young" versions of the ALV. Turning to the assortment of parasols, I discovered that a) they are fucking expensive and b) there is no such thing as a stylish parasol. The last time I owned a parasol I was a little girl: it was candy red and ruffled with a white plastic handle and for some reason I want to say that my uncle picked it up at the horse track. I was the shiznit at five with my ruffled red parasol and pink feather boa. At 26 I still wouldn't mind being the shiz but with a little more grown-up added to the mix. I'm as drawn to sparkle as the next girl and still rock gold bamboo hoops at times, but I was hoping for a modern and stylish parasol that screamed neither "little girl" nor "old Asian lady."

The sale area was a bit overwhelming and I almost talked myself into buying a white ruffly parasol with a purple print that would be more suited to a lolita cosplayer walking around Harajuku than a Kaisha geisha. Everything was either lacy, adorned with rhinestones or printed with ugly flowers. WHY MUST EVERYTHING BE CUTE? And fugly cute that that. I tried to reason that the turquoise parasol with cut-out bow trim fit my bill but in the end settled for an off-white model with only one rhinestone on the whole thing. Stingy of me, I know. Thanks to the sale and some gift certificates, I barely paid anything but the parasol was originally 10,000 yen. $100 for a lousy piece of moving shade!!! Imagine how thrilled I was to discover it raining this morning.