The annual ritual: Hunting for the next big idea

What was the biggest hit item for you last year? At the end of every year, Japan’s hit product rankings are published, and I always look forward to them. To be honest, I’m not that interested in the hit products themselves, but I enjoy delving into the background: the customer psychology, the creators’ enthusiasm, and the social requirements that underpinned the development. Today, let me introduce a couple of items from “The Hit Product Ranking 2023” that genuinely impressed me.

Case study 1: The barrier-free “Convenience Gym”

The first success story is a service: the “Convenience Gym.” It’s smaller and simpler than existing gyms, operating 24/7, with no staff, no showers, and no locker facilities. The monthly fee is cheap, and the admission/withdrawal procedure is easily managed via an app.

People treat it like a convenience store, dropping by on the way home from work for a quick 10-minute exercise session. Only 1.5 years after its launch, the service boasts over 1,000 locations, more than 1 million members, and the top market share in the Japanese gymnasium industry.

The success clearly shows a huge hidden demand for everyday exercise. This demand was brought to light by eliminating as many barriers as possible—cost, time commitment, excessive facilities, and complicated procedures. I know this is the most basic of business basics, but the sheer size of the uncovered demand is impressive. Furthermore, this new service deserves high praise because it subtly works to improve public health. (I really like it, despite the fact that I remain a loyal, but less convenient, member of an older, full-service gym.)

Case study 2: The repurposed tool—men’s parasols

Another hit is men’s parasols (anti-UV umbrellas). As in many other countries, parasols were traditionally thought of as women’s items in Japan. Men knew the parasol could effectively cool them down by blocking direct sunlight, but the stereotypical idea and feminine designs prevented their use.

The newly launched men’s parasols succeeded by breaking that stereotype with gender-neutral designs. They didn’t invent a new product; they simply redefined its purpose and target user.

The Levitt principle: Selling purpose, not product

This leads us to the wisdom of Theodore Levitt, the legendary marketer, known for his famous saying: “Sell the hole, not the drill.” His point is that marketers should focus not on the product or service itself, but rather on the purpose or solution people want to achieve. In this context, both the convenience gym and the men’s parasols became unique by slightly changing their purpose:

The parasol: Blocking direct sunlight for men, not just providing feminine shade.

The gym: Providing quick, light exercise for ordinary people, not just the intensely health-conscious.

The dangerous idea: Furniture as a memory marker

Using the Levitt Principle, I believe we can create something new and unique even in our traditional wooden furniture industry with just a small change in purpose.

For example, what about a service to engrave each family member’s name on their respective dining chairs? The common purpose of furniture is “making living space comfortable.” But the purpose of the name engraving service is far deeper: “making the place where family members always feel they belong and can return to.”

The only downside is that it may make parents incredibly sad after the kids have flown the nest. (Perhaps we should sell the engraving tool as the “drill” and the resulting family memory—however painful—as the “hole.”)

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I may be a man who stubbornly sticks to an inconvenient, old-school gym while the rest of the world embraces efficiency, but I still know a ‘billion-dollar hole’ when I see one. In an age where everything is disposable, we’ve decided to stop selling mere furniture and start selling something far more dangerous: a sense of belonging. Our Hatsune Miku Art Chair is the ultimate ‘repurposed tool’—a masterfully crafted seat that transforms a digital icon into a permanent family memory. It’s not just a drill; it’s the hole that reminds you exactly where you belong. Now, here is a barrier-free invitation for you: the image below is a link to the heart of our mission. If you prefer a life without the ‘painful’ beauty of deep attachment, do NOT click it. But if you’re ready to redefine the purpose of your living space, go ahead. The entrance is always open. —— The Hatsune Miku Art Chair.

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Shungo Ijima

Global Connector | Reformed Bureaucrat | Professional Over-Thinker

After years of navigating the rigid hallways of Japan’s Ministry of Finance and surviving an MBA, he made a life-changing realization: spreadsheets are soulless, and wood has much better stories to tell.

Currently an Executive at CondeHouse, he travels the world decoding the “hidden DNA” of Japanese culture—though, in his travels, he’s becoming increasingly more skilled at decoding how to find the cheapest hotels than actual cultural mysteries.

He has a peculiar talent for finding deep philosophical meaning in things most people ignore as meaningless (and to be fair, they are often actually meaningless). He doesn’t just sell furniture; he’s on a mission to explain Japan to the world, one intellectually over-analyzed observation at a time. He writes for the curious, the skeptical, and anyone who suspects that a chair might actually be a manifesto in disguise.

Follow his journey as he bridges the gap between high-finance logic and the chaotic art of living!

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