I was taking photos of Sankyo Camera from the pavement when my eyes met those of a staff member inside the shop.
There were two staff members and no customers. The room behind the glass was small. I felt awkward, hesitated, and in the end walked on. I did not go in.
So this is a shop guide written from the outside.
Sankyo was the fifth and last camera shop of my day in Ginza on September 12, 2026. The four before it each have their own article: Lemon Camera on the 8th floor of a church building, Shimizu Camera, Katsumido Camera, and Sukiya Camera. Sankyo is the one I only saw from the street. It turned out the street had more to show than I remembered, including one thing you can take home without saying a word.
Finding it: the blue sign on the east side
Sankyo Camera’s main shop is at 4-10-11 Ginza, on the ground floor. It is a few blocks east of the other shops in this series, and the closest station is Higashi-Ginza.
Look for a large blue sign that reads 銀座 三共カメラ in white, with a blue awning under it that says SANKYO CAMERA. Above both, a yellow banner says カメラ、レンズ高価買取り致します — “we buy cameras and lenses at good prices.” On the day I went, the neighbor on the left was a ramen shop with a tall white hanging sign, which made the block easy to pick out.
The look through the glass
At Sukiya, earlier that day, a customer already inside the shop got me through the door. At Sankyo there was nobody to follow in. Just the two staff members, an empty room, and me on the pavement with my phone up.
My first thought was: am I about to be told off for taking pictures? Nobody came out, and nobody said a word. The staff member may simply have looked out at the street, the way anyone does. But by then the worry had already made the decision for me.
This is the second shop on this blog that I have written up without entering. The first was a tiny place in Akihabara, in my article on opening hours and closing days. Both times, the problem was on my side of the glass, not theirs.
What I would do next time
My takeaway is simple. Photograph a small shop on your way out, not on your way in.
If you are visiting from abroad, I suspect that same worry would find you in the same spot: at the window of a one-room shop, phone raised, before you have said hello. After you have been in, the same photo is just a visitor keeping a memory of the place. The storefront will still be there when you come back out.
And if your eyes do meet someone’s through the glass, remember it may be nothing more than a glance. A small nod is enough in Japan. It is not a promise to come in. It closes the moment, and then you are free to choose: step inside, or walk on. Either one is normal. My guide to camera shop etiquette covers the rest.
I did neither. I just turned away — the one option that makes it harder to come back.
My memory said “nothing to see from outside.” My photos disagreed.
When I wrote up my notes the next day, I described Sankyo as a shop where you cannot see the stock from the street. Then I went through my photos.
Right beside the door is a tall corner display window, lit from inside, with glass shelves from top to bottom. It is packed with old cameras: a flashgun with a big round silver reflector, a row of twin-lens reflex cameras, a boxed Polaroid, lines of chrome rangefinders and film SLRs, and on the bottom shelf, parts of a large-format camera next to a brown box camera. I had been standing right in front of all of it. The only thing my memory kept was the eye contact.
Every camera in that window has a small white price tag. In my photos, not one of them can be read. They are too small and I was too far back. So I have no prices for Sankyo. If you want them, stand closer to the glass than I did.
The glass of the door says a lot too. A HASSELBLAD banner runs across the top, with LEICA, Rollei and Leitz stickers under it, and then a long column of payment stickers: Visa, Mastercard, JCB, American Express, UnionPay, Rakuten Pay and several Japanese cards. I did not buy anything, so I cannot tell you how it goes at the register. Paying at Japanese camera shops explains what to expect in general.
The box that says “Free”
In front of the window, on the tiled step, sits a clear plastic tub. A handwritten card hangs over its edge: 御自由にどうぞ!! and, under that in English, Free. Go-jiyū ni dōzo means “please help yourself.”
There are two more by the staircase to the left of the window, a clear case and a black one, each with its own card: このケースの中のモノ 御自由にどうぞ Free. “The things in this case — help yourself. Free.”
What was in them, I cannot tell you. My photos show boxes, cases and small odds and ends, nothing I can name. I did not notice the boxes at all on the day, so I did not look through them. I also have no idea whether a camera ever turns up in there.
Still, this is the one thing at Sankyo that needs no Japanese, no conversation and no nerve. If a small shop feels like too much, a box on the step that says Free in English is about as gentle an invitation as it gets. Take only what you will use, and leave the rest tidy.
The stairs are staff only
That staircase to the left of the window is not a second way into the shop. A white standing sign at its foot says カメラ、レンズ買取り致します — “we buy cameras and lenses” — and a card on the steps says STAFF ONLY, with the Japanese underneath: この先、関係者以外ご遠慮ください, “beyond this point, staff only, please.”
On the floor just in front of it lies a blue doormat with flowers on it and one word: WELCOME. I liked that more than I can explain.
Before the trip, I had seen listings that suggested another Sankyo counter somewhere upstairs. The shop’s own website has an old notice saying that its third-floor department for Japanese cameras moved down to the ground floor in April 2019. Put that together with the sign, and the shop for customers is the ground-floor room. If an older listing sends you up the stairs, that notice may be the reason.
What I cannot tell you
Because I stayed outside, a lot of this guide is blank. I cannot describe the inside of the shop. I do not know how much English the staff speak. I do not know what is in stock beyond the window, or how the tags inside are written.
Tax-free is also a question mark. I did not see a tax-free sticker in my photos of the door, and the shop’s website does not mention it. That does not mean they do not offer it. Ask at the counter before you decide, and see my guide to Japan’s tax-free rules for how the system works and what changes on November 1, 2026.
Practical notes
- Where: 4-10-11 Ginza, ground floor. Closest station: Higashi-Ginza. Look for the blue 銀座 三共カメラ sign and the SANKYO CAMERA awning.
- Hours: the shop’s website lists Monday to Saturday, 10:00–18:00, closed Sundays and national holidays (checked September 24, 2026). It also says the shop may close for a few days when it runs a stand at a used camera fair. Its past notices show closures during the used camera fair at the Matsuya Ginza department store. Check the website before you go.
- Phone: 03-3543-3951 (from the shop’s website).
- Before you enter: a corner display window full of classic cameras, with small tags. “Free” boxes in front of the window and by the stairs.
- Size: from the outside, one small room. With no other customers, expect to be noticed.
- Stairs: staff only. The shop is the ground floor.
- Payment: card stickers on the door, including Visa, Mastercard, JCB, American Express, UnionPay and Rakuten Pay. Not tested.
- Tax-free: unknown. No sticker in my photos; not mentioned on the website. Ask.
- Photos: I photographed only the outside. Learn from me and take yours on the way out.
Everything above is what I saw from the pavement on September 12, 2026, plus what the shop’s website said when I checked it on September 24. The cameras in the window will have changed by the time you go. Sankyo was the last shop of my Ginza camera day, and my Ginza round-up looks back at that day as a whole. If you are planning your whole trip, start with my Japan camera shopping guide.
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