Why I fell in love with Japanese convenience stores

Tamara Hinson
A Lawson store glows below snow-capped Mount Fuji. Photo / Unsplash
A Lawson store glows below snow-capped Mount Fuji. Photo / Unsplash

Tamara Hinson loves a Japanese convenience store. Here she explains why Family Mart, not forest bathing, and 7-11, not shrines, will always be at the top of her hit list.

I’m not quite sure when I first fell in love with Japanese convenience stores. Maybe it was the first time I entered a Tokyo 7-11 and heard the chirpy ding dong which sounds when the door opens (followed by an equally chirpy chorus of “Ohayo gozaimasu!” from assembled staff).

Or possibly the moment I came across the selection of pre-formed crab sticks and chicken breasts squeezed into shrink-wrapped plastic, proudly bearing the words “artificial meat”. Or the time my visit to a Family Mart to grab some milk left me filling my basket with some Bioré wet wipes which could instantly reduce my skin temperature to -3C, a shirt-cooling spray and a Jaws-themed bath bomb (I used the latter last week, and it’s ingenious – a boat-shaped ball of fizz which, when chucked into water, dissolved to reveal a plastic shark and surprisingly fragrant clouds of blood-red dye).

 Fake crab, honestly labelled "Imitation Crab Bar". Photo / Tamara Hinson
Fake crab, honestly labelled "Imitation Crab Bar". Photo / Tamara Hinson

But there’s also a certain consistency to Japanese convenience stores. For example, I know that 7-11s, Family Marts and Lawsons will almost always have a cash dispenser (albeit one of the photocopier-sized ones Japan is famous for). I know I’ll always be able to get my favourite snacks there, whether it’s Family Mart’s own-brand raw squid chunks, or my beloved GariGarikun Soda ice lollies.

 Shiba Inu keychains are a beloved Japanese souvenir staple. Photo / Tamara Hinson
Shiba Inu keychains are a beloved Japanese souvenir staple. Photo / Tamara Hinson

Admittedly, there are several missions I’ve yet to accomplish. I’ve searched in vain for the legendary device found next to drinks cabinets in several 7-11s. Place your sealed bottle of Coca-Cola on the designated spot, press a button and half the contents turn instantly to ice.

 Coca-Cola Plus, Japan's own blood-fat-fighting soda. Photo / Tamara Hinson
Coca-Cola Plus, Japan's own blood-fat-fighting soda. Photo / Tamara Hinson

I’ve yet to figure out how this works. I once even discussed it with Williams F1 team principal James Vowles (I was interviewing him about team strategy, but our shared love of Japanese convenience stores proved to be a much more interesting topic). James has degrees in science and engineering and was equally baffled, pointing out that mixing certain chemicals can cause liquids to freeze on contact, but that they’re probably not ingredients you’d want in your coke. That said, I rarely visit a Japanese convenience store without picking up a bottle of Coca-Cola Plus, a Japan-only variety certified as a health product and said to moderate post-meal blood fat.

Another aspect I love? The transparency. Take fruit juice. Government guidance dictates that if the amount of real juice is under 5%, the package can only show cartoon-like drawings of the fruit. Photos of unsliced fruit indicate there’s between 5% and 99% real juice, while photos of fruit sliced open indicates it’s 100% juice.

 Lawson's protein-packed chicken sticks line the shelves. Photo / Tamara Hinson
Lawson's protein-packed chicken sticks line the shelves. Photo / Tamara Hinson

The wording is in a league of its own, too. Last time I was in a Lawson convenience store in Osaka, I found an entire range of own-brand vegetable snacks featuring the word “extraordinary” – not as a brand name, but just as a description. I’m still not sure what was extraordinary about the extraordinary bamboo shoots I spotted, but I’ve got full faith in Lawson that they would be exactly that.

 A Pocky box marks a train journey around Shikoku. Photo / Tamara Hinson
A Pocky box marks a train journey around Shikoku. Photo / Tamara Hinson

Then there’s the “Cheese Tube-Shaped Fish Cake Sticks” I spotted in a Tohoku 7-11 earlier this year. You might assume something had got lost in translation but going by their appearance, the label was spot on, in the same way the “Candy Type Cheese” snacks were exactly that – a bag of tiny balls of cheddar wrapped like humbugs.

Certain aisles are probably best avoided by the squeamish. My favourite snack in the world is the raw octopus tentacles I’ll stock up on at 7-11s, but even I drew the line at the shrink-wrapped, eyeless fish head I spotted on a recent foray to Family Mart, or the chicken cartilage snacks which are part of Lawson’s popular range of own-brand products.

 Ready-to-eat yakitori and pork tongue sit in the fridge. Photo / Tamara Hinson
Ready-to-eat yakitori and pork tongue sit in the fridge. Photo / Tamara Hinson

I’m not alone in my love of Japanese convenience stores, something these brands have tapped into. Tokyo Confidential, a cocktail bar in Japan’s capital, recently unveiled a menu inspired by Japan’s convenience stars. Drinks include a Cup Noodle-inspired highball made with bourbon, mango and corn. And when Family Mart recently launched a range of merchandise, items flew off the shelves so quickly that the brand decided to open Famima, a flagship store in Tokyo selling everything from Family Mart-branded clothing to homeware.

 Sanrio's Little Twin Stars meet TIRTIR makeup. Photo / Tamara Hinson
Sanrio's Little Twin Stars meet TIRTIR makeup. Photo / Tamara Hinson

Every time I go to Japan I vow to curb my spending. When I return, I’m taking a smaller suitcase in an effort to stop me losing control. But I also know that I’ll get to Japan, see a Family Mart, realise that I absolutely need a shirt-cooling spray and a keyring shaped like my favourite lollipop, and that I still haven’t found the 7-11 store which freezes your Coca-Cola with the press of a button, and realise I desperately need to up my luggage allowance. The good news? I have it on good authority that 7-11s in Japan now sell their own line of suitcases….

The writer travelled at their own expense.