Last weekend, when my mind was preoccupied thinking about the Japanese ex-porn star and mainstream actress Aoi Sora–aka Aoi Sola, please see my previous post about her here–I took a walk downtown. Ironically, I walked through Times Square around nine-thirty in the morning on Saturday, where apparently she would be sightseeing a little later that weekend after her sold-out appearance at a film screening at the Japan Society. I know she was there because I saw a picture of her in Times Square that was posted on Facebook. Sigh. I really would have loved to see her in person.
Ironically, it was in Times Square, just a few hundred feet from where she posed like a tourist, that a friend gave me an Aoi Sora video several years ago and introduced me to her amazing work. To describe her merely as a “porn star,” in fact, is like saying Picasso was merely a “painter.” She transcends the genre in which she first made her mark.
Anyway, as I walked I saw a very petite Japanese woman in an elegant gray kimono sitting on a chair at one of the little pedestrian plazas that dot Broadway between Times Square and Herald Square. She had the demeanor of this lady in a picture by a photographer named Greg which is posted on Wikipedia:
She sat very quietly, her hands in her lap, at one of the little cafe tables that are placed at those plazas. I wondered who she was waiting for. She was a little older than the girl in this photo, but similarly demure.
I kept walking about twenty feet, and then I turned around to look at her again, from a different angle. But now she wasn’t there. It was so strange; where did she disappear to, so fast? She would have had to run to leave so quickly, and that didn’t seem likely with her wooden geta sandals and tabi socks. I know I saw her…but maybe the time I mused about her was longer than I thought, and she had simply walked away in the interim of my daydreaming.
I was friends with a native Japanese stripper, working in New York, who told me about how when she turned twenty, she went to a special ritual event commemorating that birthday, and wore a kimono with an elaborate obi, the large sash; when she drove home, she had to recline her car seat all the way so that she would have room to sit with the obi on.
This girl lapdanced for me many times wearing only a thong and high heels, but for some reason this memory of her in a kimono seems the most erotic image I have of her, and it is something that only exists in my mind because she told me about it, not because I actually saw her in the kimono.
But then again, mental images sometimes are stronger than things actually seen.