Journey to Minimalism, Part I: Reflections on My Maximalist Era

There’s hardly a trace of it now, but about 20 years ago—at age 15, influenced by someone I admired—I was an 80-90’s American toy collector. For me, collecting American toys wasn’t just about accumulation; cutely displaying them was part of the aesthetic. Before it became a trend, I would post photos of my collection and room on Instagram. I never showed my face and operated the account under a handle, which, despite following only 200 people, boasted thousands of followers. This was in 2015, a time when the word “influencer” wasn’t as common as it is now.

At that time, I also couldn’t be satisfied unless everything I touched was in cotton-candy colors, and my wardrobe was completely that of a Harajuku girl.

↑ My room during my first time in Tokyo. A dazzling space that sometimes appeared in magazine features♡

↑ Wearing an ice cream-patterned dress while going to Harajuku.

Time passed, and at 25, I decided to study abroad in the Czech Republic. My beloved collection, however, couldn’t come across the sea with me. Reluctantly, I boxed them up and left them at my parents’ house, but the dead-stock toys were always at risk of mold or deformation. Even while abroad, I constantly worried about them.

Meanwhile, I became obsessed with thrift shops locally and found myself buying vintage stuffed animals on a whim. I also experienced the Czech spirit of valuing possessions and came to understand the emptiness of merely accumulating things. My love for vintage clothing remained unchanged, and I still treasure the vintage dresses I wear on special occasions.

↑ In the room I lived in at the time, I was happily surrounded by stuffed animals.

↑ A polka-dot dress I got for about 500 yen at a Czech thrift store. A treasure I’ve kept ever since.

And then, in the blink of an eye, it was time to return home. I consumed food in a planned manner and passed on items I could still use. At the end of my study-abroad life, I headed to the airport with just one suitcase and one backpack, the same as when I arrived. Only the stuffed animals I had collected were sent separately to my parents’ house.

Looking back on my time abroad, I lived comfortably with the minimum amount of luggage, plus a box for seasonings and cooking utensils. When I moved from the student dorm to a rented house, one Uber ride was all it took to relocate. I had become so light, and once I experienced that ease, I couldn’t unlearn it. Even so, my love for toys remained—and after returning home, I faced days of inner conflict.

Still swaying between these two opposing feelings, I gradually took steps toward becoming a minimalist.