Almost Transparent Blue
I first read Almost Transparent Blue by Ryu Murakami when I was seventeen.
Looking back, I think the novel became the inspiration for the fragrance because of a strange overlap between Murakami’s world and my own. I grew up in Yokohama next to American military housing. Murakami’s young adulthood unfolded in Fussa, another town shaped by the presence of the American military.
In both places, America was always there.
As a child, my memories of that America were innocent, sweet, and exciting. It arrived through music, cars, products, language, and a sense that there was a larger world beyond Japan. Reading Almost Transparent Blue, I encountered something entirely different. Murakami’s America felt decadent, chaotic, and unsettling. The novel showed a side of life that was almost the opposite of my own experience.
Yet I found it strangely relatable.
Perhaps because beneath those differences, we were both looking at the same thing: America as seen from Japan.
The novel offered a glimpse into a world that felt both foreign and familiar. It was darker than my memories, but it came from the same source. That tension stayed with me.
What I remember most vividly, however, is the final scene.
It is the image that gives the novel its title.
After everything that comes before it, the scene felt like relief. As a teenager, I felt hope in those final pages. Above all, I found the image beautiful. Nearly fifty years later, I can still see it clearly in my mind.
The fragrance is not an attempt to recreate the novel. It is a memory of that feeling.
A glimpse of America from Japan.
A dream suspended between innocence and decadence.
Something distant, beautiful, and almost transparent blue.
*Reposted from Made by Blog (est. 2006), the founder's original blog.