The typhoon was heading for Tokyo. Shinjuku Chuo Park was filling with rain. Parents, umbrellas, tourists indoors. Toru Utsumi, 60, a management consultant, in a soaked suit, red tie, sneakers, was dancing. Heel clicks. “Singin’ in the Rain”. “The more I move, the more my spirit rises, and I start feeling good.” The NYT, on 17 October, named him the dancing salaryman. The Seattle Times picked up the wire. That is the scene. It is not a studio clip.

He has more than a million fans on TikTok and Instagram. He films outside stations, on rooftops, near castles, in hotel rooms, in fields, at the beach. Buena Vista Social Club, beret and shorts. J-pop, a collared shirt, neon. Cartwheels, splits, butterfly jumps. A spreadsheet of more than a thousand songs, so as not to repeat himself. In Japan, where quiet is the rule, he is seen as a nuisance. Too sloppy, too undisciplined, too gimmicky, too old. “I know I stand out. That’s why it’s very difficult for an ordinary salaryman like me to dance like this.”

Abroad, he is a landmark. Fans fly thousands of miles. Shibuya Crossing, Tokyo Tower: he has danced at both. Roberto Cimmino, 27, an Italian lawyer, 17 days in Japan with Chiara Comuzzi, 24: a trio outside Tokyo Station, to “Magnando” by Leone di Lernia. High-fives. “Joy machine.” At parting: “Keep on dancing!”

He grew up in Kyushu. His father, a Lutheran minister, moved from church to church. Isolation. In kindergarten he imitated the ballet dancers in a hall by the church. In high school, in the 1980s, the twist on Tokyo streets and guitar in a heavy-metal band. Jagger, the hips. Late-bubble disco. Reggae. A copier salesman, then an independent consultant, with lessons in empathy for bosses. In 2018, at 52, he enrolled in classes. Sachiko Nagatomo, his teacher: improvised, he struggles to stick to choreography, “completely funky and free”. From 2023, clips almost daily. Hip-hop, disco, rockabilly, soul. “Publicly declaring my goals also keeps me from slacking off.”

The dancing is Tuesdays and Sundays, between clients. Colleagues: “That’s just Toru.” Many clients do not know. After filming he packs fast and vanishes into the crowd. He smiles at passers-by who ask for a permit. He does not want to change society. He does not shout “let’s work hard, men in our 60s”. If someone tries something, that is enough.

Until a permit, a spreadsheet of a thousand songs remains. After a permit, the rain remains. Anyone who mixes them turns a salaryman into a dance law.

Image: Guilhem Vellut, Shinjuku Central Park, Tokyo, 19 December 2013, CC BY 2.0, Wikimedia Commons. The photograph shows the park, not Utsumi’s dance in October 2026.

Sources consulted: Rain or Shine, Japan’s ‘Dancing Salaryman’ Can’t Stop Grooving — The New York Times; Rain or Shine, Japan’s ‘Dancing Salaryman’ Can’t Stop Grooving — The Seattle Times.