Making Home
For more than 18 years, Akiko Probst has been able to retain and share a piece of her Japan, thanks to her fashion and home accessories store.
By: Adawulai Mohammed
Oct. 6, 2022
“In Germany, you could visit a museum and have a look at collections or Japanese-inspired collections. Or there were so many Asian supermarkets. But there was nothing in between. So I thought why not show there are everyday, normal Japanese stuff.” Akiko Probst, Owner of AKIKO Japan in Hamburg. Photo by Linus Eckel for The Other Project
For 18 years, Akiko Probst has owned AKIKO, a Japanese-patterned fashion, and home accessories store. It is located on Wexstraße, a 155-year-old street in Hamburg’s Neustadt district. Although it is less significant to locals, for many tourists, the road is an important link between the city hub, where important landmarks like the Rathaus are found, and the famous St. Michel’s Church. Thus, the wandering eyes of a pilgrimage tourist could easily spot AKIKO boldly written in white on a red signpost wedged between a Japanese-inspired luxury clothing store and a bar.
Each article in the store serves an everyday need, which is vital for Akiko because when she first moved here, she noticed that Japanese culture was primarily relegated to museums and supermarkets. None of it found its way to Mainstreet. “In Germany, you could visit a museum and have a look at Japanese collections or Japanese-inspired collections. Or there were so many Asian supermarkets. But there was nothing in between. So I thought, why not show there is everyday, normal Japanese stuff? Things my mom cooked with, things we ate with, the colors and textiles we wear. This was my first idea.” These everyday things include kitchen essentials like ceramic bowls, plates, tea cups, teapots, and mugs; home accessories like lamps, bolsters, cushions, table runners, and coasters; fashion accessories like headscarves, wristlets, belts, brooches, cosmetic bags, and pencil cases; and essays and books on Japanese culture, sensuality, design, and philosophy on life and happiness. Each item is Japanese-patterned and comes in different colors, shapes, and sizes.
Ceramic and fabric pieces at AKIKO
Although many locals have taken an active interest in AKIKO, most of its visitors are from abroad. On my last visit on a late-Tuesday afternoon in mid-September, there were about a dozen shoppers, including a mother and her very pregnant daughter. Some visitors drop in because they are curious, which should come as no surprise given the aesthetic appeal of the items on display and the interior design. But others are there to look and take something home. The mother and her very pregnant daughter fell in the second category. After roughly twenty minutes of intense browsing, they were ready to make a purchase. Akiko excused herself from our interview to attend to them, and I strained my ears to make out what they were saying to each other. I heard enough to know it was not English, and though my German recognition skills leave a lot to be desired, I was confident it was not German either. It was Spanish.
Whilst Hamburg’s main pull for most migrants is job or study, romance is a close second. Before moving to Hamburg, Akiko had spent an adventurous five years in Spain, hence her Spanish language prowess. She had always been interested in art and seeing the world, and the circumstances around her supported those desires. Her father was a Buddhist monk. Her mother was a gregarious tea master, or Sen Rikyū, who spent part of her time hosting familiar and unfamiliar faces at home. When school was out, Akiko would work in antique shops. These influences fed her appetite for art and individuality. As the youngest of three children, all girls, she figured convincing her parents to let her veer off into the world, young and alone, would not be difficult. They would still have two to keep them fit. And so shortly after graduating from university with a degree in International Relations, Akiko bought a one-way ticket to Spain. “I was like the frog who jumped out of the boiling pot,” she analogized, “but my parents were actually the ones who encouraged me to jump out.”
She had been accustomed to life as one long routine with fixed milestones and expectations, and Spain offered a break from that. “I was always able to do my schoolwork and everything on time, but it was difficult; I wondered how anyone could do it forever. So when I finally graduated from university, it was like I could finally live my life how I wanted.” She attributes her youth’s social pressures and routines to remnants of the postwar need to rebuild an economically devastated Japan. “We had lost everything, and I think there was pressure to rebuild as a collective. And that was still the case when I was growing up.”
The artist in Akiko wanted a different scenery and pace, and Spain offered it. “The people were so different. They were very friendly and easy to connect with. To see their reaction, it gives you the feeling of wanting to connect. I loved observing the people, how they laughed, how they danced, and even how they expressed emotions.”
When she first contemplated leaving Japan, she made a short list of countries that were no-gos. Although the list was short, Germany made it. However, a chance encounter with a German ERASMUS student in Salamanca, Spain, would change that. She became pregnant with their first child, and the idea of moving to Germany with him, albeit temporarily, did not seem so awful. “Spain, no, because he had to return to Germany to finish his studies. Japan, no, because he didn’t speak Japanese. I was more flexible, so I decided to come here because I wanted to learn his language. After all, it would be one of the languages of my child.” And so, in 2003, they moved to Hamburg, settling in an apartment within sight of where she would open AKIKO a year later.
Her new neighborhood offered a nice cushion to soften the landing. It was centrally located and easy to access child care facilities, medical clinics, the central station, and other essentials. And though it is close to the city center, it is removed from it enough to miss much of the noise and commotion. Tourists and strangers roamed the small streets and ate in the cafes and restaurants, but neighbors were friendly and knew each other. Here she could start a family and a successful business. The idea of AKIKO and staying in Germany a bit longer than planned took form.
In a small gathering of friends and family, she opened AKIKO on June 3, 2004, her mother’s birthday. “There were many happenings. The day went very quickly, friends stopped by, and I had my parents-in-law around as well. We celebrated with some flowers, of course.”
Much has changed since that day, more than eighteen years ago. The neighborhood’s cultural diversity has declined, high-end shops and eateries have sprawled, and gentrification has taken hold. There have been significant personal changes for Akiko as well. Instead of walking home, she now travels 15 kilometers from work to Blankenese, where she moved eight years ago. Her first son is 18 and growing, and her second and last is well into his teenage career. Both are equally itching to see the world through their own eyes.
But some things have not changed. The store has endured, as has many friendships it has produced. Three months ago, I paid Akiko an unannounced visit in the afternoon and found her taking a break in front of a cafe just a few meters down the road from her store. She was as surprised to see me as I was to see her there. As a treat, she ordered hot chocolate for me, and before the barista could produce my hot liquid lunch, Akiko introduced me to the two men that been keeping her company. One I had already met, both were old customers she had stayed in touch with through the years.
There is a through-line between Akiko’s work and life. Although some of the products, including ceramic plates, teapots, and bowls, are imports of Japanese artists she handpicked, the store space doubles as a workshop. Thus, when Akiko is not attending to customers, she is often busy measuring, cutting, and sewing. She dedicates some days to handcrafting bolsters, cosmetic bags, headscarves, belts, brooches, pencil bags, and greeting cards. “I like making things with my hands. Not like I’m an artist, haha; I just like being a hand worker. And I set daily goals, and I want to make, say, ten pieces in one day, and I want to make them good enough, and that makes things more realistic.” This personal involvement in product design and creation gives each piece an intrinsic value and makes Akiko an expert on what she sells and, consequently, the ideal person for customers to talk to.
Akiko Probst, owner of AKIKO Japan in Hamburg. Photo taken by Linus Eckel for The Other Project
But there is also room for customers not interested in chatting about fabrics and products. Straight ahead from the entrance to the right is a cozy room that functions as a library. Its walls are adorned with artwork. A white light globe hangs directly above a small wooden table in front of a stuffed brown leather couch. To the left of the sofa facing the door is a tall wooden bookshelf displaying hundreds of books and magazines. They are works of art, design, history, culture, and sensuality. All about or by Japanese authors: here, you can hide away and read for as long as you want. On my last visit in mid-September, Akiko served a Japanese tea called Genmaicha in the library. It was perfect for the wet day that was unfolding outside. This was the AKIKO experience.
On the first Saturday of each month, Akiko hosts an Origami workshop for a small group at the store. Occasionally, though, she takes her show on the road to companies. It allows employees to break their knowledge and writing-based routines and create something beautiful and tangible with their hands. “After ten or fifteen minutes, you will see the result of your creativity, and that’s fun for people,” she said. I wondered how the companies knew she offered Origami workshops, as there was no information about it on the store’s website. It turns out it was by design. “The right person will find you,” Akiko said. Advertising would bring more customers, which would be excellent for her pocket. But it would also cause more stress from having to meet different expectations, which she is happy to avoid.
When Akiko moved to Hamburg in 2003, it was supposed to be a temporary stay. It is now 2022, hardly temporal by most metrics. I wanted to know why she had stayed long past the two years she initially thought. Some of the reasons were obvious: marriage, kids, friends, and the internet, which has made it much easier for her to stay connected with her family.
But without question, AKIKO, the store, has been instrumental. It embodies two of the most important things to her: her cultural identity and her creativity. It has allowed her to retain, and ultimately share, a piece of her Japanese self and see the world through the browsing eyes of her multinational customers. And whoever could have thought she would not have to step outside Hamburg or leave Japan too far behind to do that?
At 45, Akiko is content and proud of what she has been able to create for and with so many people. More than a source of economic sustenance, the store has given her a home, and she needs it as much as it needs her. “I always look forward to coming back here after a vacation,” she remarked, “and I think that is a good sign.”
This article is part of a series that highlights the economic diversity and contributions of people with migration backgrounds in Hamburg. It is part of our Work Mentoring Program 2022, sponsored by the Deutsche Postcode Lotterie.