The DeLorean and the market cap
In the year 2020, Tesla finally surpassed Toyota in total market value. I originally wrote this article back then, feeling the weight of that shift. Now, as I add these words in 2026, I do so not to brag about knowing the outcome, but to reflect on the reality of what followed.
The rise of Tesla wasn’t just about their effort; it was the result of a global alliance of manufacturers and governments desperate to dismantle Toyota’s “Internal Combustion Empire.” They bet everything on the rapid death of the engine. However, they overlooked a fundamental physical truth: a vehicle weighing over a ton, traveling at 100 km/h, must start, stop, and endure extreme weather for years on end. Time is a brutal judge. Many EVs failed that “Time Test.” Regulations to ban internal combustion engines in the West were rolled back, and the attempt to “crush Toyota” ended up leaving behind mountains of abandoned electric vehicles in China—a massive environmental burden rather than a green revolution.
For many, this was the definitive signal of a changing guard—the end of the internal combustion empire. It made me reflect on a famous exchange from Back to the Future.
When Doc Brown looks at a broken circuit in 1955, he scoffs, “No wonder this circuit failed; it says ‘Made in Japan.'” But Marty McFly, arriving from 1985, looks confused: “What do you mean, Doc? All the best stuff is made in Japan.” In just thirty years, the global perception of Japanese manufacturing underwent a total reversal. If Marty were to travel from 2026 back to 1985 today, would he still say the same thing?
The tears of 1960: From junk to jewels
It is hard for the younger generation to imagine, but in the 1960s, “Made in Japan” was a synonym for “cheap and disposable.” There is a famous, heartbreaking story from that era about a woman who cried with joy upon receiving a beautiful dress for her birthday, only to burst into tears of sorrow the moment she saw the “Made in Japan” tag. At the time, our products were market-dominating, but only because of their low price, not their soul.
The high-quality reputation we enjoy today wasn’t a gift; it was a hard-won victory achieved through the untiring, almost obsessive efforts of our ancestors. They transformed a national stigma into a global gold standard. Today, when I visit clients abroad, I am often told, “No need to explain the quality; we know it’s Japanese.” This is the invisible heritage—the “Trust Equity”—that has been handed down to us.
Protecting the legacy in the age of “Real Quality”
As the EV bubble of the early 2020s showed, “average quality” can be manufactured anywhere with enough hype, but “enduring reliability” cannot. Japan may no longer be the undisputed economic titan, but we possess something far more valuable: the “Trust Equity” that survives the test of time.
At CondeHouse, we are the guardians of this legacy. Whether the world moves toward electric power or hydrogen, the human need for things that last—things built to survive the “Time Test”—remains unchanged. We work so that thirty years from now, a traveler from the future will look at our work and say, “Of course it’s still perfect. It was made in Asahikawa.”
In many ways, the Hatsune Miku Art Chair is our own version of a Time Machine. It takes a cutting-edge digital icon of the 21st century and grounds it in the “Made in Japan” quality that our ancestors fought so hard to establish. From a distance, it looks like a futuristic experiment; up close, it reveals the same stubborn, uncompromising craftsmanship that turned Toyota into a world leader. By sitting in this chair, you aren’t just embracing a virtual future—you are leaning back on a century of manufacturing pride that even Marty McFly would appreciate.
Ready to see how the future was built? Click the banner below to step into the world where digital myth meets the ultimate Japanese heritage.


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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