Originally published on metropolis.co.jp on March 2010

"I didn’t think Metropolis reviewed bars like this," admits Keiko, the bleach-blonde, 30-something owner of Zen Pussy. “Yeah, this place is like C-grade or something,” pipes up one of the regulars.

Well, that depends on how you define your criteria. If you were to rate bars on aesthetic excess, Zen Pussy would be up there alongside Alcatraz E.R.—the difference being that this is a place you might actually want to visit more than once. It would take the rest of this article just to do justice to the interior, which incorporates pink-and-purple zebra print walls and a myriad of tat. A plaster bust in a bondage mask sits to one side of the bar, while cardboard butterflies dangle from the ceiling and a deer head festooned with Christmas tree decorations peers down from one wall.

In case you wondered, the bar is named after a US erotic movie with the subtitle “A Stimulating Meditation on Eleven Vulvas.” Keiko, who studied in the UK but admits that she only picked up dirty English, will happily regale you with a more detailed explanation, none of which would be printable here.

The current shop is Zen Pussy’s second incarnation: the first was a used clothing store on the north side of Nishi-Ogikubo station that had a bar attached. “We got to the point where it was 90 percent about the booze,” recalls Keiko. “There were lots of smokers, too, so half of the clothes turned brown.

“We still sell some clothing here too,” she continues, gesturing towards a pile of clutter in the corner. I don’t ask to try anything on.

Zen Pussy isn’t the kind of joint you’d go to specifically for the drinks, although the selection is better-than-average. Guinness (¥900 for a pint, ¥500 for a half) and Edelpils (¥500 per glass) are available on tap, and spirits start at ¥500. If you’re feeling adventurous, try one of the bartender Yamada’s “special cocktails,” which come with monikers like Final Command and Shojo Suberi (named after a ’70s Japanese porn flick whose poster you’ll find in the toilet). There’s a small, off-menu range of nihonshu and shochu, the latter starting at ¥600 for a generous glass. I’d be lying if I said I’d sampled (or intended to sample) any of the food, but the chili con carne (¥900) is supposed to be good.

The bar throws DJ events and gigs most weeks—underground folk hero Kan Mikami is an occasional visitor, and they’ve had people spinning everything from psychedelia to post-punk and world music. Keiko admits that she isn’t always on her best behavior during these parties. “If you flip my switch, I’ll do lewd dances and drink mayonnaise,” she says with a giggle. To which the only sensible response is: where’s the switch, and why mayonnaise?