Unbound

December 28th, 2023 (evening)

Cultivating limerent feelings for the sake of art and creation is not something I would recommend. Nevertheless, there was a time during my stay in Japan when I allowed myself to be swept away by a silly crush. Some of my friends suggested it might boost my creativity, but as the relationship grew more ambiguous, I ironically became numb to inspiration. Dreadful.

Ever since I arrived in Tokyo, I’ve been receiving attention and compliments from everyone, everywhere. It started one Sunday morning in November. I was out to get coffee, wearing a white pastoral dress worth a month’s rent, when a middle-aged salaryman stopped next to me and said, “Tenshi desu ne… kawaii da!”—roughly meaning I looked like an angel and was cute. Later, I would often receive compliments from people I met at bars and concerts, from men and women alike. The drunkards, both late at night and in the early morning, would always tell me how cute I looked. ‘Cute’ is definitely not an adjective anyone in France would use to describe me, though. Unsurprisingly, many of the artists I met would compliment my hair, my style, and occasionally my smile. I am a bit flashy, after all, and I know everyone loves a big smile.

However, I very rarely received these kinds of compliments from the object of my affection, who seemed to appreciate more who I was pretending to be as a person than what I looked like. One might think it’s wonderful to be truly appreciated by the person they like, yet it made me realize that I actually never have—and probably never will—deconstruct the idea that I ought to be desired by men and dismiss platonic affection.

Near the end of December, I went to Pineapple's birthday party at an Egyptian-themed restaurant somewhere in Iidabashi. Those who know the place will understand. I don't think it's worth writing much about the party itself, as it was just a friendly gathering and nothing out of the ordinary happened.

However, I did get to meet Mirabelle, one of Pineapple’s good friends, and her roommate at the time, Melon. Melon is French, so we naturally hit it off, as French people tend to do in Japan for reasons I still don’t fully understand. Melon was quite the jolly guy, and he casually invited me to spend Christmas with them (which I did) and later to a performance where he was going to play some of his experimental electro music—or whatever it is he puts together. He probably assumed I wouldn’t show up, but I’m curious and adventurous: if you invite me somewhere, I’ll be there. Unless I really dislike you or have better plans.

At the time, I was keeping myself very busy between language school, partying, and going on dates with any guy who matched with me on Bumble (all in the name of research and getting free meals). I even had a date the day before, which went fine, so I won’t bother writing about it. But on the evening of Melon’s performance, I had no plans. Not only that, the venue, Bonobo, was near Aoyama, relatively close to my home in Shinjuku, and it was featured in Louis Vuitton’s 2024 Tokyo Guidebook. Yes, I own that useless and overpriced book.

UNBOUND
Bonobo, Shibuya City, Jingumae

Bonobo is a two-story venue with a bar-club area on the first floor and two rooms on the second: a tatami area and a sort of enclosed terrace. There's also an open terrace, though I’ve yet to figure out how to access it.

Contrary to what the image suggested, the event was called 'Unbound,' a dual shibari¹ performance. However, when I checked Bonobo’s website, all I could find was an event called 'pucabono' scheduled for the same day. I guess there must have been a last-minute change of plans.

I never confirmed with Melon that I would come; I simply walked to the venue on a cold December evening and found him outside, smoking. He was pleasantly surprised to see me and invited me inside to catch the tail end of the first performance.

There was an entrance fee, though I’ve forgotten the amount, and they put stickers on my phone camera because the first performer was completely naked (and pregnant). I got a beer at the entrance since saké—the only other option with the drink ticket—isn’t my favorite. Then I headed upstairs, where the performance was taking place. I found Mirabelle there, and she was also surprised to see me. The room was packed, and I couldn’t see much. The performance was quiet and not really nearing its end; there were still a good twenty minutes left, if I recall correctly. Eventually, the room cleared enough for me to catch a glimpse: the very pregnant performer was attempting to paint something while being gently tied up by her shibari artist friend.

It all seemed a bit pretentious and ceremonious to me.

When I had seen enough, I went downstairs and chatted with Melon for a bit. He explained that the next performance would involve his shibari artist friend tying up two women, with him performing and an ikebana² artist also getting involved. What a program!

I remember being startled when he used male pronouns to refer to the Ikebana artist. I had seen that person a few minutes earlier and was certain it was a beautiful, tall, androgynous woman. Later that evening, they came up to me, and we chatted. Seeing the Adam’s apple up close and hearing his deep voice, it became clear that he might indeed be a very, very beautiful cis man.

Fun fact: I think I might have crossed paths with him again when I was visiting Otaru in July. It was nighttime, and a 'very tall, skinny, stylish girl' was clearly following me around as I made my way back to the hotel. It creeped me out, especially when she finally approached me and muttered a very manly “huuuummm…”. I freaked out and quickly turned away to leave. Five minutes later, I remembered who it might have been and felt embarrassed. What a coincidence if it really was him! If it wasn’t, then what was that awkward situation all about?

Soon, the main performance began on the first floor, and it was quite wild, mostly due to Melon’s intense music. The shibari itself was pretty tame. The two female performers remained clothed—one was the artist’s partner, and the other was probably a friend of the couple. Both had the petite Japanese physique that Western men seem to like too much. The rope play art was very ceremonious, which bored me a little. The only thing I really enjoyed was Melon’s crazy music.

At some point, once enough ropes were attached to the women, the ikebana artist got involved, arranging plants and flowers between the knots. Many people were drunk by then, including him, and were dancing around the performance. I watched quietly from the back. I honestly don’t have much to say about women being tied up, I have no interest in it. Maybe if they were good looking men however…

Melon gestured that he was thirsty, and Mirabelle quickly went to fetch him a drink from the bar. I couldn’t tell if it was water or saké—damn those colorless alcoholic beverages. Later, Mirabelle asked if it was alright that she got him saké instead of water, to which he responded it was perfect. Birds of a feather, as they say.

At one point, the event photographer accidentally hit a USB attached to the turntable, messing everything up. Melon had to readjust everything to resume his performance, but then the electricity crashed—at least twice, if I recall correctly. It was quite the chaotic event, but in the end, everyone laughed it off.

After the performance, I made the foolish decision to order some saké at the bar. It was dreadfully expensive, and amusingly, the boss lady was keeping a close eye on the bartender to make sure she wasn’t pouring too much. But as soon as the boss turned her back, the lovely bartender emptied the bottle into my glass. What a sweetheart! Unfortunately, I quickly realized that I wasn’t in the mood for so much alcohol, and finishing my drink became a struggle.

I went to the terrace-like room to chat with everyone. I don’t remember much, except that I met a fetish photographer whom I would run into again a few weeks later at a nightclub.

Eventually, it was time for everyone to head home—it was Thursday, after all. Melon and Mirabelle were planning to take a cab or something since it was late and they had equipment to move. I said my goodbyes and went my own way.

I walked home, which took about 45 minutes—not ideal given how chilly it was that night. I had a date planned for the next day, but I won’t write about that one because it was more tiresome than anything, and I’ve already forgotten most of it...

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Atmosphere:              very ceremonial/10
Music:                        11/10
Beverages:                  I gave up on saké after that night/10

Final judgement:       An “underground” club in the middle of a rich neighbourhood that is actually pretty posh and snobby itself when you think about it seriously.

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1. 縛り “bindding”, artistic style of bondage with ropes.

2. 生け花 “arranging flowers”, Japanese flower arrangement art.