Yellow Boots

The image on the left was probably taken more than two decades ago. The one on the right was taken a few years ago.

Who is she?

– Her name is Sayoko Yamaguchi (山口小夜子).
– Sayoko was the first — and perhaps the only — Japanese supermodel. Newsweek magazine named her one of the world’s top six fashion models in 1977.
– The Sayoko Mannequin, manufactured in 1977 by a British company, was displayed around the world through the ’80s. Fashion designer Anna Sui still owns two of these vintage mannequins and uses them in her shop.
– According to Yoshiharu Fukuhara, Shiseido’s Honorary Chairman and grandson of the company’s founder, Sayoko served as Shiseido’s liaison with Serge Lutens, who often did her makeup.
– Sayoko was the face of Shiseido for many years. Her face was distinctly Japanese, yet her physique (tall height, long legs) was not. For this reason, she was not considered ideal for wearing kimono in the traditional sense — and yet here she is in a kimono in one of Shiseido’s commercials, unforgettable all the same.

The word “bi-jin” literally means “a beautiful person,” and is mostly used for women. “Haku-mei” denotes “thin life,” meaning a short life. Together, they express a Japanese worldview: that beauty is fragile — and that we grieve its fragility.

Sayoko Yamaguchi passed away two months ago at the age of 57. Nearly thirty years short of the average lifespan of Japanese women today. Her life embodied this idiom.

Her death brought back to me an almost forgotten memory.

One autumn afternoon, when I was about seventeen, I was waiting at Yokohama Station for a local train to Tokyo. On the opposite platform, where express trains departed, I noticed a pair of long legs in yellow boots beneath a short skirt, moving with elegant strides. They belonged to a very tall young woman with long black hair — someone I recognized from glossy fashion magazines.

The moment I realized it was Sayoko Yamaguchi, I ran up the stairs to cross to the other platform. An express train arrived before I could get close. I watched her from a distance, memorizing the car she boarded. I took the same train, getting on at the rear, and made my way through the aisles toward the Green Cars (first-class coaches in Japan) as the train headed to Tokyo.

When I reached one of the Green Cars, I felt incredibly lucky: she was alone. There was no one else in the entire car. I must have felt as though I were ascending to heaven.

I don’t remember how I introduced myself, nor how I left the car half an hour later. I only remember sitting next to her until I got off at one of the Tokyo stops. We talked about fashion in general — about Issey and Kenzo.

Although she must have been at the height of her modeling career then, the tall, striking woman I met on that cloudy autumn day was extremely gentle and pleasant… far from what we often imagine when we think of supermodels today.