At 70, Laku owner Yaeko Yamashita says she’s nearing the end of her life, but you wouldn’t guess it. Her shop is bustling on Saturday afternoon, the eve of her shop’s closure, and she is flitting about, chatting, naming prices and giggling with her dog.
“I have such nice friends, I’m so lucky,” Yamashita exclaims, eyes wide. One stops by with tulips and takes Yamashita’s dog for a walk. “And customers!”
Throughout the afternoon, Laku regulars and curious passersby enter the eclectic shop at 1089 Valencia St., which is filled to the brim with clothing and accessories, baubles and ornaments.
When a customer inquires about the price of an item, Yamashita gets excited. “Oh, that’s so cute!” she says, like she hasn’t seen it before.
Things could get easy to miss: As she prepares to move out, Yamashita’s collection of 30 years is a semi-organized chaos, with scarves and boxes haphazardly stacked on every available surface.
And Yamashita fits right in at Laku: She is dressed head to toe in various stripes and polka dots, with matching checkers on her Vans sneakers.
“It’s a pleasure, letting us root through your things!” says one older woman after perusing for a while, bringing her selections up to the register. She promises she’ll be back tomorrow. “It’s always helpful to go back for a second round, I think.”
On her way out, the woman stops several times to further inspect trinkets she missed on her first walkthrough.
The closure is something of a new beginning: Earlier this week, just days before her Valencia Street shop, Laku, was set to shut its doors, she managed to secure a studio space on the same block, in a space attached to We Be Sushi — the same space she once occupied years ago.
Years back — she doesn’t remember when — Yamashita had to leave her shop at Haight and Octavia streets, and said she went to eat at We Be Sushi on Valencia. There, the owner saved her.
“I eat sushi over there, [and] he said, ‘What happened?’ He said, ‘Come here … we have open space,’” Yamashita said. She moved into the space adjacent to We Be Sushi, and operated Laku there before moving it to her current location down the block.
Last week, she said, she went back for sushi, and the owner offered her the same space once again.
“So [he] saved my life again!” she exclaimed.
After she closes on Sunday, she will spend the next week moving down the street to what will be her art studio. She has a community of people ready to help — and as customers overhear her talk, they offer to lend a hand, too.
“I can come by and help if you need,” said one first-time customer, Naryne Sarkiss. “I’m unemployed, I’m so bored.”
Yamashita’s eyes light up.
“All the neighbor people help me!” she explains to this reporter. Another customer approaches to say hello. “Everyone is so nice. It’s unbelievable!”
For Yamashita, this seems to be half the fun of running a business; she says she’s never had much of a traditional business sense. She once worked in Tokyo as a commercial fashion designer, before she got sick of the stress and moved to New York, then San Francisco shortly after.
“I lost my taste because I’m so commercial … I don’t know [my] own style,” Yamashita said, thinking back on her job in Tokyo. “After 30, I just quit.”
After getting to run her own shop in her own style for decades — she points out her chandeliers and colorful scarves hanging from the wall — she will take that sense down the street, where she said the space has been “destroyed” with concrete and a lack of color since she was there years ago.
Yamashita says she’s stressed just thinking about it.
But for now, she seems carefree as ever. A customer mentions her dog is leashed outside, and Yamashita takes her own dog out to greet the fellow canine.
“Puppy! Ahhh!” she exclaims, letting her dog, who also wears a striped scarf, approach the other dog before pulling him back, giggling. “Ahhh! Ahhh!”
Inside, the customer calls out to ask for prices on different items, but Yamashita, busy playing, doesn’t hear. When she’s ready, she goes back inside.