In the column I wrote when we first arrived in Tokyo, I said that I would give myself time to play tourist and slowly settle in. I gave myself the deadline of when our shipment finally arrived. We had to delay its departure from Manila to avoid contributing to the congestion typical during the holiday season at major ports worldwide. We also didn’t want the long break to factor in the possible delay of paper work so it was best to keep it in Manila for a while. To be honest, unpacking and rearranging an apartment (once again) was something I was definitely willing to delay. You see, the longer you live with as little as possible, the more you realize you don’t really need much.

I survived with four cups, two glasses, and two bowls for almost two months. Do I really need my collection of vintage plates and that antique tea set I found in Germany? Well, no. But in reality, it’s more complicated than that.

In a city like Tokyo where space is a luxury, you realize you’d be more than willing to part with things rather than sacrifice what space you have. Rent prices here are among the highest globally, with significant increases even for a slight increase in square footage. Minimalism—but not the trendy, white-washed version of it—is a way of life here. It’s not that all Japanese live with two cups and three white jumpers. The Japanese people I know do have more things but you find that the common trait they have is they make space for the things that they value. It could be clothing, ceramics for tea, or art collected through the years.

Of course, our material possessions’ value change through the years along with how we change as people. Something you may have loved to wear a year ago may no longer fit you now. A bag may no longer fit your current personal style or a book’s ideas may not be something you adhere to anymore.

The secondhand market here is another thing that fascinates me. It’s quite a big deal. Maybe it’s the limited space in Tokyo homes but people in this city tend to constantly edit their belongings. It’s not just because they’re forced to by circumstance like me. Secondhand stores like Mode-Off accept every type of clothing, shoes, or accessories. You drop off your things and they’ll assess everything in half an hour. Once you come back, they’ll let you know which ones they’re willing to pay for and which ones they’ll take as donation.

I found myself hauling clothes to the nearest ModeOff yesterday to make space in our closets. I made a few yen from them—barely enough for lunch—but it somehow made me feel lighter. While I don’t intend to let go of my vintage German porcelain (they were from a Berliner friend’s mother who collected them between the ’50s and the ’70s) or our books acquired through the years, I realized it was clothing I needed to edit this time around. And isn’t this constant packing and unpacking that comes with diplomatic life just that? A constant editing process I’m glad is required of me every few years. Otherwise, I’d probably just be drowning in things.

A home for everything 

One aspect of Japanese living I truly admire is their efficient use of storage solutions in smaller spaces. The flat we live in right now is designed for two people—no more, no less. It’s just slightly over half the size of our space in Manila. I didn’t think half of our things would fit but somehow, they did! We have underfloor storage, something developers everywhere in the world should consider. Honestly, it’s the way the cabinets were built into the walls, how they distribute the space for certain things, and how the doors open. Even the kitchen has the niftiest things. Dishwashers may not be as common here but pull out one of the drawers and you’ll find a grill for your fish! And there’s no rule stopping me from turning it into my personal yakiniku grill too.

I’m still visiting Mode-Off in the next few days to leave more clothes. (Honestly, why did I even buy an asymmetrical skirt over a decade ago when I’ve always disliked that trend? More important, why do I still have it?) While I’m far from being a minimalist, this exercise served as a reminder of the importance of cherishing what we have and making deliberate choices about what we allow into our lives. It’s a mindset shift that extends beyond material possessions—it’s about embracing a more meaningful way of living. We must make space for the things we need and the things that make us happy. For those that don’t, we need to learn to let go. A rule we should all apply, not just to our material possessions, but perhaps to every aspect of our lives.