Harajuku 原宿

Harajuku packs more contrast into 500 meters than any other corner of Tokyo. Step out of the station’s wooden-roofed exit and you can turn left for Takeshita Street, a 400-meter funnel of crepe stands, idol merchandise, 390-yen shops and teenagers dressed as their own cartoon, or turn right for Meiji Jingu, where a cedar-lined gravel approach swallows the noise within thirty seconds. Beyond Takeshita the streets of Ura-Harajuku hold the small labels that made the area famous in the 1990s, while Omotesando’s zelkova boulevard lines up buildings by Ando, Ito, Sejima and Herzog & de Meuron as if the city had decided to hold an architecture fair for luxury brands.

Do the shrine first, before the tour buses, then let the crowds carry you down Takeshita. Cat Street, a converted riverbed that curves from Omotesando toward Shibuya, is the best way to leave: vintage stores, coffee stands and sneaker shops, with almost no cars. On Sundays the Yoyogi Park entrance turns into an open stage for dancers, drummers and the greased-quiff Rockabilly crews who have been twisting there since the 1980s.