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Rich materials appear in the men’s area (1), the restroom (2), and the consultation rooms (3), which feature Tsutsumi-designed tables and Hans Wegner chairs. Photos © Misae Hiromatsu / Ruijing Photo, click to enlarge.

But the showroom’s architectural piece de resistance is its 9-inch-deep dropped ceiling. Rendered in overlapping wood slats, it was inspired by the neckline of the kimono, which is created by folding layers of fabric neatly across the front of the body. Decorative as well as functional, the stepped surface was designed to conceal the array of existing beams and HVAC ducts overhead. Due to these conditions, the room height drops to just under 8 feet at its low points—but Tsutsumi’s system of overlapping slats deftly draws attention away from that deficit.

Like the complicated but invisible underpinnings of the kimono, it took a well-concealed support system to create the ceiling’s elegant, tiered form. Hanging from the concrete slab overhead, a steel suspension system secures progressive layers of drywall wrapped with wood-grain-patterned plastic-coated paper. “It’s inflammable, cheap, lightweight, and easy to install,” explains the architect. The slats also incorporate the downlights responsible for the room’s soft illumination, which complements the surface-mounted fixtures inside the cabinets that highlight the displays.

Additional challenges that the building posed were its curtain wall windows and beefy concrete columns. Locating the back-of-house area behind the front facade enabled Tsutsumi to effectively block the windows altogether, turning the showroom into a separate world and protecting Marusho’s delicate wares (which are prone to fading caused by sunlight). This strategy also enabled the architect to bury two of the columns in the storage-lined wall. But there was nothing he could do to hide the third, which stands in the middle of the showroom. Instead, he turned the 4-foot-diameter cylinder into an ornamental element by coating its surface with textured bands of a mortar-and-earth mixture reminiscent of historic mud walls.

Intricate kumiko panels adorn the sliding wood doors of its consultation rooms. Photo © Misae Hiromatsu / Ruijing Photo

Throughout the showroom, materials are a means of artistic expression, traits of Japan’s traditional architecture born anew that do not compete with Marusho’s inventory. These richly appointed surfaces are perceived by other parts of the body as much as the eye—from the patterned carpet cushioning the customer’s stockinged feet to the cabinetry’s smooth cedar cladding and the delicate wooden fretwork of the sliding doors for the six consultation rooms, where apparel options are presented privately to the customer. Each door is adorned with a different kumiko panel composed of tiny wood pieces by Toyama Prefecture craftsmen. Even in the restroom, materials warranted special attention, with bengala red washi paper to cover the ceiling and walls of Oya volcanic stone (a Frank Lloyd Wright favorite).

Incorporating tradition without being trite can be tricky. But, in Japan, tradition is not a static entity. On the contrary, the old ways are subtly updated again and again as they pass from one generation to the next. By marrying today’s technologies with yesterday’s materials, textures, and colors, Tsutsumi adroitly proves this point.

Click drawing to enlarge