The Land od the Rising Yen

afford to be the patron of a really fashionable
geisha-girl and can maintain her in a magnificent house and in the grand style,
he has really made it. So ageing and decrepit tycoons visit their geishas with
astonishing frequency. All they want from them is that, once in bed, the girl
should leave them alone and let them read the financial pages of theMainichiShim-bun. Many of them would prefer to sleep at home, in their own beds. But women have
always been more snobbish and more ambitious than men and it is their wives who
chase the poor fellows out into the dark and insist that they sleep with their
expensive geishas. They heave a sigh and off they go.
    (2) The Stone Age of snobbery passed.
Serious car-production for the home market started only in 1965 (second-hand
trading in cars began seriously only in 1967). In the early days there was the
‘my car’ campaign. The slogan, ‘my car’ (in English) was hammered home with
such ferocity and insistence that the phrase, ‘my-car’ became part of the
Japanese language. Now everyone — which means almost everyone who will ever achieve
it — has his own car. So what’s the next step? As the Japanese do not produce
huge cars, the black, chauffeur-driven but smaller limousine has to do for most
tycoons. A few are driven around in large American automobiles or expensive
German or even more expensive British models. Foreign cars are much in demand.
They do not have to be good as long as they are expensive.
    Cars have an overpowering fascination
everywhere for a while, then — as soon as ‘everyone can afford a car’ — they
lose their snob-value. Japanese one-upmanship now reaches out for anything
unique. The unique prize possession may be a Rolls-Royce, an electric carving
knife or a power-driven potato-peeler of staggering design. As long as you are
the only one to possess it in the neighbourhood, it matters little what it is.
    But the top achievement is to belong
to a club — especially to a golf-club. It is the ultimate glory. Once you are a
member of a top golf-club, you have achieved — snobologically speaking —
salvation. Top clubs do not only carry tremendous prestige but are also very
expensive. It may cost £5,000-$ 12,000 — just to join. Consequently it will
always be a man’s firm who pays for him and everyone knows this. His membership
only means: ‘Look, I’m important enough to be sent into this club.’ Sometimes
he becomes a true golf-addict; sometimes he hates the game as much as his
geisha-chasing counterpart hates to make love. Indeed, he may be one and the
same man, in which case life — with golf and geishas — must be endless suffering
for him. But he will do his duty: he will practise, study the game and play
golf with the single-minded devotion of all Japanese dedicated to a task. He
knows that life has its seamy side.
    When an aspiring young man is posted
to, say, Rangoon, he will be told: ‘Well, it is rather going into exile but
we’ll let you join the best golf-club there. And if you do really well, then,
on your return we may — yes: may — let you join one of our own
golf-clubs at home.’
    Having heard this he would be ready
to go not only to Rangoon, but to hell.
    If he is allowed to join the
golf-club on his return, his firm will choose the appropriate club for him, pay
his entrance fee and subscription. There are special clubs for junior
executives, middle-rank executives, senior executives, managing directors,
vice-presidents and presidents — and of course the size of their companies
matters, too. In America when a man forges ahead in age, rank and salary, he
will change his house and neighbourhood. In Japan this is impossible; in Japan he changes his golf-club.
    (3) The latest development is Western
snobbery. I am glad to report that Britain — always the darling of snobs all
over the world — has lost nothing of her attractiveness. Everything English is
coveted and expensive. English textiles are often no better than the latest
Japanese products, but so long as they cost twice as much they have nothing to
fear. Perfumes and cosmetics must come from France, ladies’ dresses must be
designed either in France or in Italy. It must be added, however, that the kimono holds its position more successfully than many other Japanese traditions.
This is less because it is beautiful — as it certainly is — but because it
costs much more than a Western dress. A few hundred pounds is nothing out of
the way for an