Imagine looking through old photographs. First comes surprise at the hairstyle, then laughter at the clothes. After that, you notice how different your face looks now. Some days, nostalgia is not the only feeling that follows.<\/p>\n
Changes with age often invite a familiar measure: do I still look young? Jun Miura finds a way to change the rules of that measurement.<\/p>\n
Of course, I\u2019d say, \u2018Right?\u2019 (laughs).<\/p>Jun Miura \/ Hobonichi interview, November 13, 2024. Translated for this article.<\/cite><\/blockquote>\n
An unexpected answer to \u201cYou look older\u201d<\/h2>\n
This was not an account of something Miura had actually said to someone. In the interview, he was developing an imaginary exchange about how he would respond if told that he suddenly looked older.<\/p>\n
He began with the descriptive names of old men in Japanese folk tales, including the old man who makes flowers bloom and the old man whose lump is removed. What label might fit him? He proposed the old man of personal enthusiasms, playing on the expression \u201cmy boom,\u201d associated with his work. He shortened the Japanese label to \u201cMaijii.\u201d<\/p>\n
From there, he jokingly described deliberately cultivating an older appearance to fit the character. Under those rules, being told that he looked older would mean his project was working. Hence the reply featured here. The joke continues: if someone heard his age and said he was still young, he would have to pretend that his efforts were not yet enough.<\/p>\n
This is less a one-line cure for anxiety about aging than a playful reversal of an ordinary judgment.<\/p>\n
No need to compete with your old photographs<\/h2>\n
What follows is this article’s own reflection on the exchange.<\/p>\n
When an old photograph makes the present feel like the losing side, appearance may be doing most of the comparing. Yet today might also include a favorite restaurant you had not discovered then, or friends with whom you no longer need to put on a performance.<\/p>\n
That does not mean changes in appearance stop mattering. But the same photograph can support another conversation: apparently I thought that hairstyle was an enormous success. A moment of comparison has room to become a story instead.<\/p>\n
In Miura’s joke, even the compliment that he looks young misses the character he is trying to become. Change what counts as praise, and a familiar conversation suddenly resembles a comedy sketch.<\/p>\n
Of course, some people do not want comments about their age or appearance. Nobody owes an amused answer to an unwelcome remark. This is not a universally correct response to copy, but one person’s playful way of looking at his own changes.<\/p>\n
An album is not a scorecard<\/h2>\n
Once the photograph is put away, the face in the mirror is your present one. You may not return to the old hairstyle, but you do have this present moment in which to laugh about it.<\/p>\n
Miura’s reply has the lightness of stepping away, briefly, from waiting to be judged or praised. Perhaps our changes need not be viewed through the same old measure every time.<\/p>\n
Source and translation notes<\/h2>\n
Hobonichi, \u201cMiura Jun ni Kike! Out-Rou Hen,\u201d part 2, \u201cMy Boom Jiisan,\u201d November 13, 2024 (Japanese). Read the interview<\/a>.<\/p>\n
Original: \u3082\u3061\u308d\u3093\u3001\u300c\u3067\u3057\u3087\uff1f\u300d\u3068\u8fd4\u3057\u307e\u3059\u306d\uff08\u7b11\uff09\u3002 The featured English wording is this article’s own translation, not an English statement by Miura. The source exchange is hypothetical, not a reported incident. The photograph scenes are fictional illustrations; the everyday reflections are the article’s interpretation.<\/p>
\nAffiliate link \u2014 This link opens a Japanese shopping site.<\/p>\n\n\n