Survival tips for the “New” Tokyo from the comfort of a Hokkaido chair.
Happy 2026. Or, as I like to call it, “The Year We Finally Ran Out of New Ways to Use Glass and Steel.” I hope your holidays were filled with peace and perhaps slightly less mochi than mine. By January 3rd, I found myself staring at the wood grain of my dining table and hallucinating that the knots were pieces of toasted rice cake. It was a clear sign that my professional obsession had officially crossed a line and it was time to get back to work.
To cleanse my palate, I headed to the freshly minted TAKANAWA GATEWAY CITY—Tokyo’s latest love letter to its own ambition. Designed with the unmistakable touch of Kengo Kuma, this “city of the future” claims to offer “100 years of richness.” It is undeniably stunning. It is also, in its own way, terrifyingly perfect..
The “Instagrammable” Desert
Walking through the city’s new plazas is like being inside a high-resolution rendering that forgot to include people. The geometry of glass and steel is a masterpiece of “clinical perfection.” Yet, the architecture is so sharp and so intentionally “future” that I felt like my very presence—with my wrinkled coat and my post-holiday caffeine jitters—was a design flaw.
I tried sitting on one of the new “smart benches” in the plaza. It was sleek, ergonomic, and about as soulful as a dental implant. It didn’t feel like it was designed for a human to sit on; it felt like it was designed to be photographed by a drone. It’s the paradox of 2026: the more “correct” the space, the more we crave something raw, flawed, and alive.
The Antidote to “Perfect”
Standing amidst the gleaming towers, a thought occurred to me: After a day of breathing in the “future,” what is the first thing you want to touch when you get home? It is rarely a cold stainless steel railing or an AI-managed door. It is the organic, unpredictable texture of wood. While the “future” wants everything to be smooth and anonymous, we don’t. At Conde House, we deal in the “imperfections” of Hokkaido wood—the grains that don’t align, and the warmth that absorbs your stress rather than reflecting it back at you.
If Takanawa Gateway City is the “Future of Tokyo” consider our showroom the “Timeless Soul of Nature” We don’t offer 100 years of cutting-edge technology; we offer 100 years of time—the time it took for a tree to grow, and the time our craftsmen spent listening to it.
A New Year’s Resolution You’ll Actually Keep
This year, don’t bother with the gym. Instead, resolve to stop sitting on “concepts” and start sitting on furniture.
If you find yourself wandering the chrome-plated streets of the new Tokyo and start to feel like a ghost in the machine, come find us. Our showrooms is the designated “Safe Zone” from the future. We won’t ask you to be “innovative” or “global.” We’ll just ask you to sit down, let your shoulders drop, and let out that sigh you’ve been holding since New Year’s Day.
The future is here, and honestly? It’s a bit chilly. Come warm up with the reality of wood.
Hoffmann Axel Noel
Part design-critic, part coffee enthusiast, and a full-time devotee to Japan’s timeless aesthetics. Axel is the bridge between the craft of Hokkaido and the neon pulse of Tokyo. He believes that a chair is only as good as the conversation held in it. Whether you want to dive deep into woodcraft, discuss the best-hidden galleries in the city, or finally master the subtle phonetics of “Hokkaido,” Axel is here to guide you.Reach out anytime to swap stories, make an appointment, or get the inside track on where Tokyo’s design heart is beating today.