The Decline of Department Stores and the Desire to Infiltrate the Depachika | Yasuo Takagi (Dean of the Graduate School of Health Management)

2010.03.25

The slump and withdrawal of department stores have become a major social issue, but in the past, eating a children's meal set in a department store restaurant was a source of great longing and joy. As someone who grew up in the countryside of Tochigi Prefecture, I felt the same way. Going to the "big city" of Utsunomiya, playing on the department store rooftop, and having a children's meal in the restaurant were rare moments of bliss. Consequently, the only city scene I remember from my sixth-grade school trip to Tokyo is the lion statue at the Nihonbashi Mitsukoshi department store. Department stores were a symbol of the prosperity brought by the period of high economic growth.

Eventually, even after I entered university and started living in the city, department stores were a reassuring place for someone like me who was unfamiliar with urban life, even if they were expensive. I relied on them not only for dates but also for meals after a big shopping trip. Starting with the large basement dining hall at the Nihonbashi Takashimaya, as my financial situation improved, I upgraded to the special dining room and was able to savor the luxuries of the city.

However, at some point, I started going to department stores less and less. The time came when I had already acquired all the necessary items like suits and furniture, and there was nothing left for me to buy at department stores. When that happened, the only things I wanted were daily groceries, and only the abundant food floors in the depachika—with their prepared dishes, bento boxes, sweets, and liquor—seemed to shine. Although the depachika began to attract attention around the year 2000, this was actually a sign of the decline of the main department store on the floors above.

Whenever a famous shop opened a tenant store or a regional products fair was held, I would go with my wife, and we would enjoy regional specialties and the flavors of renowned restaurants in the depachika. One time, I blurted out, "I'd love to sneak in after closing and taste everything," which earned me my wife's disapproval. That dream has yet to come true, but I wonder if the depachika will still be around by then, or whether a store specializing only in basement-level food items can even be called a department store. My secret pleasure may be a race against time.

(Date of publication: 2010/03/25)