This little salon closed sometime in the 90’s, and its shutters simply never reopened. It was, by all accounts, the last hairdresser serving its neighborhood, a remote corner of Tokyo where almost nobody walks anymore. When it went, a piece of everyday life went with it. No history book will ever mention a place like this, which is exactly why I photograph them. A neighborhood hair salon is a perfect time capsule: unspectacular, personal, and frozen mid-routine, as if the last customer had just left and the owner had stepped out for lunch thirty years ago.