At some point in the past 50 years, the konbini became irrevocably tangled into the cultural fabric of Japan writes Ashley Ogawa Clarke, a Tokyo resident. It is the concept of convenience crystallised into one destination, a place where you can buy lunch, use the toilet, ATM or printer, pay your utility bills, or post a package. In the city, you’re seemingly never more than a few meters from one—like rats, but more pleasant.  One’s konbini preference in Japan is treated as a totemic indicator of personality, like the Myers & Briggs test. Mostly what inspires loyalty to one is in the small personal preferences, like a particular coffee order or a type of onigiri. For my part I am a happily disloyal customer, a konbini syncretist who plays the field with no strings attached. After visiting what must be thousands, I have found there to be little that separates the overall experience. I have been the drunk foreigner in his early twenties rushing in to buy more Sapporo beer or Strong Zero to sup in the street. I have also been the guy who rolls his eyes at that guy queuing up to buy a cold bottle of mugicha. Maybe one day I’ll be the old man that hobbles in to buy a “One Cup” of sake and a packet of Hi-Lites. Head to drakes.com to find out more about how these little supermarkets became a key part of a country’s identity.