Issue #21

Words by Cory Ohlendorf | Photography courtesy

Japan’s print culture goes back hundreds of years and “that won’t change soon” Tsutomu Ishizaki, the president of Japan’s most successful magazine publishing house, once told Monocle. “It might look like Japanese magazines are behind on the digital front, but that’s partly because the people involved in the print business here take it very seriously and want to do it properly—we’d never give up on print.”

Japan still has an impressive amount of magazine titles on offer. You’ll find them at bookstores and in convenience stores. Young guys collect them and display them in their homes. What really sets Japanese magazines apart from the rest of the world is how the Japanese publications manage to be both current and timeless. You could pick up a magazine from two years ago, thumb through it and still come away with vital information because the articles and layout spreads are chockfull of helpful information.

Take, for example, Tarzan magazine, published by Ishizaki’s company, Magazine House. Since its inception in 1986, Tarzan has grown from a niche publication to a cornerstone of Japanese fitness culture, embodying the nation’s evolving attitudes toward health, wellness and self-improvement.

The 1980s were a transformative decade for Japan. The country was experiencing an economic boom, and Western cultural influences were becoming more pervasive. Amid this prosperity, the concept of personal fitness began to gain traction, influenced in part by the global aerobics craze and the increasing popularity of gym culture in the United States. The choice of the name “Tarzan” was deliberate—evoking images of strength, agility and a connection to nature—qualities that aligned with the magazine’s unique vision of fitness at the time. You see, the newly-formed staff was determined to take a more holistic approach to well-being.

One of the magazine’s defining features through the years has been its ability to blend global trends with Japanese culture. This blend resonates with a society that values both modernity and heritage. For example, while promoting weight training and protein-rich diets—practices popularized in the West—Tarzan also emphasized traditional Japanese dietary staples like fish, rice, and fermented foods. This hybrid approach resonates deeply with readers, offering a localized perspective on global fitness movements.

One of Tarzan’s distinguishing characteristics is its sleek design. Some months, the cover is a stylish, toned guy in the gym. Other months, it’s a modern illustration, and another month, it might be a young woman making healthy food. With its eye-catching design and comprehensive content, the magazine has mastered a mix of playful illustrations, topical anime tie-ins and stylish fashion editorials and gear reviews. Tarzan’s bold layouts, vibrant photography, and clear infographics make complex fitness concepts accessible and engaging. Regular features include visually striking “How-To” guides that break down exercises step-by-step, helping readers perfect their form.

In an era where wellness is a global priority, Tarzan has had a profound impact on Japan’s fitness culture. It helped normalize gym memberships and home workouts, encouraging a generation to embrace active lifestyles. The magazine also played a role in dismantling stereotypes about fitness being solely for men or athletes, fostering inclusivity and diversity within the wellness community. By providing credible, accessible, and diverse content, the magazine empowers anyone and everyone to take charge of their health. Its commitment to bridging fitness and lifestyle with humor, guidance and style ensures it stays relevant as trends evolve.

This is not an affordable coffee machine. It’s an investment. But it’s the only push-button coffee maker I’ve ever tried that produces a consistent cup of coffee that tastes like it costs $9 at your neighborhood Blue Bottle location. The machine itself is stylish and also incredibly fun to watch brew, as it starts off with a dramatic blast of steam to preheat the carafe—a nice touch—before the first shot of water hits the grounds.

The machine then pauses to allow the grounds to bloom—letting them soak for about half a minute so they can off-gas and release any bitter flavors—before brewing starts in earnest. Unlike a regular coffee maker, where water continually drips throughout the cycle, the Balmuda pulses its way through the brew, a few seconds on, a few seconds off. The Brew's brewing cycle takes between four and seven minutes. When it’s done, the machine chimes a cute little song—the mark of any good Japanese home appliance.

Yutori (ゆとり) is a term that means giving yourself the space to have peace of mind. It’s about the conscious act of slowing down to allow yourself to savor the world around you. It’s not merely being present, but the refusal to rush. It’s finding well-being in stillness—no talking, just listening, breathing and absorbing the world around us with no goal except to see and appreciate the moment that we’re in right now.