One day, our usually empty lecture room filled up because our seminar professor had invited a prominent intellectual to give us a talk.

I went in early and sat in my usual place. Beth came in a little after the lecture had started. Having spotted an empty seat next to me, she came over and sat down.

When her eyes met mine, she smiled and whispered, “So many people!”
My heart skipped a beat, and I hurriedly hid my notebook filled with scribbles.

After a while, she wrote something down in her notebook and slid it towards me.
Are you drawing something? I’d love to see it.

Once again, my heart fluttered. I was surprised at how quickly she noticed I was drawing something.

My drawings were all based on her fashion looks. Should I let her see them? I hesitated, but surely, she wouldn’t think they were her.
They’re not very good...
I scribbled down, and bravely passed my notebook to Beth.

To my surprise again, Beth turned the pages of my notebook one by one, studying them carefully. I nervously stole a glance at her side profile, getting a clear view of her long lashes. Her chin was resting in the palm of one hand. A small pearl ring sat elegantly on her slim finger. Coordinating perfectly with the pearl studs on the edge of her earlobes, it radiated a luster that was enough to arouse my admiration.

A few moments later, she scribbled something down in my notebook and gently slid it towards me. When I saw the note, I felt something pop inside my heart for the third time.
Are these all me? I’m flattered. Thank you.
It was this moment that our worlds — which I had assumed would never mix — suddenly intersected.

Beth told me there’s a place she visits every weekend, tucked away in a residential area on the outskirts of Shimokitazawa.
It’s a coffee shop with an unusual name: Jashumon. I only discovered much later that it has the same name as the title of a poetry anthology written by Hakushu Kitahara, a poet born in the Meiji era.
“I know a coffee shop with a really nice atmosphere in my local town. I think you’d love it too. Why don’t we go together?” she suggested.

From the day I showed her my notebook, Beth and I gradually became closer. Well, we weren’t regularly hanging out or having lunch together or anything, and most of our exchanges were during lectures, but Beth would always come and sit near me, asking if I had drawn anything new and if she could have a look. That was still a big change.

To me, Beth was like Audrey Hepburn or Brooke Shields. Come to think of it, she was my “fashion icon” although I didn’t know such a term existed back then. Showing my icon the sketches I made of her looks was extremely embarrassing but also an experience that made me straighten my back.

After scraping together some money from my part-time jobs, I bought a few introductory books to fashion illustration and started drawing in earnest. I focused mainly on sketching Beth’s looks but also dreamed up my own outfits on a slender female figure, pairing a dress like this with a coat like this... I once broke into a cold sweat when Beth asked, “Did I have clothes like these?”

Whenever Beth looked through my notebook, she always had a serious expression with a dignified coolness you could almost hear in sound. Then, she would return my notebook saying something like, “They’re amazing,” breaking into a stunning smile that resembled a freshly opened wild rose.

There was a reason why Beth invited me to go to Jashumon together. She wanted me to make a fashion illustration of someone — a woman who was always sitting in the same spot whenever Beth visited and whom Beth admired for her wonderful style.

I wasn’t sure if I could do a fashion illustration of someone other than Beth, but I was thrilled to be invited to her go-to coffee shop. Ultimately, it was my curiosity to see Beth’s style inspiration that convinced me to say yes.

I asked another part-timer to cover my shift at the cafeteria where I worked and embarked on an outing with Beth. I headed out in my favorite outfit: a black crew neck sweater with a white shirt peeking out from underneath, cropped jeans, and a pair of loafers on bare feet. Beth had a silk scarf wrapped around her tied-up hair and a short baby pearl necklace over her black turtleneck sweater — accents that made her look like a Parisienne who had stepped out of a fashion magazine. I was over the moon to walk into a coffee shop knowing we looked like two fashionable girls at college.