Store Reviews

Aerosoles * Various NYC locations, primarily 293 Madison Ave., New York, NY

 Okay, I’m coming clean. I have a perverse love of Aerosoles even though it’s slightly shameful. It’s not like I’m fawning over Easy Spirit, right? It started innocently when I was temping in midtown two summers ago. A pair of purple suede d’Orsay pumps caught my eye from the window. And even with my painfully pathetic $11 hourly wage, I could sort of swing the $19.99 price tag. These shoes were actually borderline stylish and crazy comfortable.

I’ve since picked up a weirdo pair per summer at DSW. 2004 induced me to buy strange gold-silver‘70s slip-ons with a squishy fake cork heel. They’re garish, gauche and middle aged, but they’re a great go-to lazy shoe. This year’s version has the same sole, but in bright fuchsia leather with vertical cut outs all around. People frequently stare at my feet when I wear either pair, maybe because they’re baffled, maybe because they’re wowed (I actually did get a compliment from a door person on the pink clodhoppers). Neither of these styles are online, and likely for good reason.

Yesterday I went wild and purchased my second summer 2005 (well, technically spring) pair. A brand new Aerosoles storefront recently appeared one door down from my office, just on the other side of one of the last remaining Pret a Mangers. This time I chose metallic emerald green sandals that aren’t half freaky, though they might be a touch too spindly and high heeled for comfort (2” is my max for everyday use). So I’m weighing the necessity of owning them. Plus, they cost a whopping $59. Yeah, yeah, we’re not even approaching Jimmy Choo territory, but I’m still not blessed with much disposable income.  (6/05)

Cost Cutters * 190 Elmora Ave., Elizabeth, NJ

Hey, there's more to Elizabeth than Ikea. On the way to Trader Joe's in New Jersey, we'd always pass this golden arch that had nothing to do with McDonald's and wonder what treasures might lie within. Now I know. Cost Cutters is like a giant, independent drug store with a dash of Odd Job thrown in, housed in a '60s storefront.

All of your toiletry, snack food and Rubbermaid staples are covered. Cost Cutters epitomizes the concept of notions--it does put ideas in your head. Most of the products are average priced, but there are random doozies like super cheap Stewart's soda (I don't even drink soda but was seduced by a key lime four-pack) and weirdo brands I thought were long defunct. Who knew Aziza still made eye shadow? I wouldn't say Cost Cutters is worth going out of your way for, but if you ever find yourself on Elmora Ave., do stop in. Make an afternoon out of it--go wild afterwards and eat a sack of slyders at the White Castle up the block. They post seating time limits on the wall, but don't let that deter you. (5/04)

Grocery Outlet! * 3855 SW Murray Blvd., Beaverton, OR

I’m not sure if there any of these stores in Portland proper, but each oddball outlying community like Oregon City, Gresham and Vancouver, WA, have one. I’ve only ever been to the Beaverton location. Ages ago, when I was still in college, I tagged along with my dad and his wife and bought peculiar edibles with food stamps. A new love was born.

In my day this haven was called Canned Food Outlet, and I’ve waxed nostalgic before. Canned foods are really only a minor component, they also have frozen and refrigerated goods, beauty products, toys, candy, a liquor section, and more.

I just like to browse the food aisles for brands unknown to me and general rejects. This is where bad flavors and odd combinations go to die. But they also have items that could be considered more specialty or gourmet (I hate that word, but it’s easy shorthand for better than regular supermarket offerings) like things you’d find at Trader Joe’s. The Hansen’s mango sparkling juice I purchased on my most recent visit falls into this category (it’s not even on their website, and probably for good reason—it didn’t quite taste as nice as it sounded).

The KC Masterpice Dip&Top Sauce in cool ranch bbq flavor made with Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing that I also bought for shits and giggles clearly falls into the ungodly flavor combos camp. I couldn’t resist. I lose all sense of decency when I set foot in the Grocery Outlet! (their exclamation point, not mine).

During my visit last week, the cashier instructed me to write my phone number (I used my mom’s) on the back of my receipt and stuff it in the cardboard box displayed at the front of the store to enter a drawing for free groceries in the amount of your total. Well, I’m still waiting for my $11-and-change prize. Maybe my mom made off with my winnings and didn’t tell me. (10/04)

H&M * Various NYC and NJ locations

Familiarity breeds contempt, right? It used to be that I’d actually get excited whenever I’d visit my sister in Swindon, a no-great-shakes London semi-suburb, because we could troll the ‘60s-style outdoor shopping plaza (now she’s in Bristol and they have one too). Very outer boroughs in a way (though not terribly American).

H&M was the best because the clothes were cool, inexpensive, and most importantly, my size. Almost everything came in XL and 18 (American 16). So, I was totally worked up over H&M’s American arrival a few years back. And somehow not surprisingly the XLs and 16s must’ve gotten lost over the Atlantic because they’re nearly nonexistent. I even went a little crackpot and wrote them a letter asking about the discrepancy in sizing between the U.S. and England. Which garnered a response that there wasn’t any difference.

Don’t even get me started on their lame ass BiB (big is beautiful, duh) collection; giant tee shirts and baggy elasticized pants in black, tan and gray shame the rest of the store. You would think that their PR department was correct if you looked at the sizing charts displayed above racks around the store. The number 16 is included with all the other regular 2-14 sizes on the placard. My issue is that while the company may make this size, they certainly don’t stock it. If you dig like crazy, you might find one or two larger size items, and they’re likely to be either the ugliest or plainest thing in the place, like a navy blue crew neck sweater or white button-up blouse. So wrong, and so spirit-crushing.

Anyway, I’d heard somewhere that the Harlem store carried a more comprehensive range of larger sizes. Er, I guess because of their target audience. You know, black people are way huger than white people. I jest, though I can only assume that is the logic.

Well, the Harlem store is different from others I’ve been to in that it’s quite spacious, the racks have breathing room, and there is no men’s section to speak of (also makes one wonder about marketing, i.e. black men don’t go for Eurotrash looks--the men’s clothes can tend towards “gay”). But variety of larger sizes? Not at all, it was no better than any other NYC location. In fact, it might’ve been worse.

So much for typing stores by neighborhood. The best luck I’ve had so far is Paramus, NJ. They also have the best regional Ikea, as far as items on display actually being in stock. My deduction is that any store inaccessible by MTA means has better goods. And don’t just take my word for it, I distinctly recall reading how NYC shoplifting rings were driving in vanloads of thieves and targeting the Garden State Plaza (in Paramus) and other suburban shopping bastions. Even criminals know you’ve got to leave the city to get what you want. (9/04)

Ikea * Various locations, NJ & NY

 I was an Ikea late bloomer, but it wasn't my fault. The NW, where I spent the first 24 years or so of my life, is colorful, functional furniture deprived. But from the first moment I set foot on NYC soil, the Ikea seed was planted. Where did you get that cute, cheap insert item here? Ikea, duh. But I didn’t want to do the Port Authority shuttle like all the other New Yorkers that I’d instantly taken a disliking to. No, fresh from Portland, I wanted the suburban experience, even if it involved extra effort.

Hicksville became my focus. Heck, the LIRR stops there. (For at least my first year here, I harbored all sorts of sick romantic notions about Long Island, Levittown, little run-down prefab houses and how I should somehow be a part of that. Really, I was already isolated and trapped in Ridgewood, Queens--why not go full throttle?)

About five years later, I finally visited the Hicksville location, thanks to a car-owning boyfriend, and it is better than Elizabeth (though the newer Paramus store beats all). And it feels super Swedish since there’s also an H&M kitty-corner in the mall. (6/04)

Jeez, why do Brooklynites have to oppose every goddamn little thing? When I first moved to Carroll Gardens earlier in the year it was “Stop the Shelter,” a campaign against a battered Asian women’s refuge. Next it will be stop everyone who isn’t white (unless you’re a professional or hip guy with an Asian girlfriend or wife. No abused Asian women, thank you, just hot ones) and doesn’t have babies, dogs or loves jogging.

The latest bee in the community bonnet is the planned Red Hook Ikea. And while Carroll Gardens and Red Hook share the same zip code, it’s not the Red Hook residents (who’ll be most affected) making the biggest stink. For the love of God, what about the children? According to their gobbledygook, this proposed Ikea will cause asthma, cancer and heart disease rates to increase, will slow emergency response times, will drive out jobs, and “put children in harms way” (I can’t take hysterical propaganda seriously when it doesn’t make proper use of apostrophes).

Sometimes there’s a table set up at the Carroll St. station, staffed by angry white women who feel the need to educate the neighborhood about the dangers of Ikea. I overheard one of them saying, “I already have furniture.” Well, good for you. How about the rest of us who don’t, and lack the means purchase high end show pieces (or even mid-priced, adequate items, for that matter)? And tell me where all these great, stylish, affordable mom-and-pop places are because I’ve yet to stumble upon one in Brooklyn. (7/04)

Key Food * 395 Court St., Brooklyn, NY

“Your Neighborhood Store and So Much More,” as the Key Food slogan goes. It’s that so much more bit  that gives me pause. I’m not the mellowest person to begin with, but this Key Food makes me violent. When I’ve lived in raggedy neighborhoods like Sunset Park, I kind of accepted the fact that grocery stores were few and far between, and the ones that did exist were pretty shitty (and even the Fifth Ave. Sunset Park location resembles a normal grocery store, complete with wide aisles and semi-decent produce. Heck, they even have those bottle deposit machines. The Fifth Ave. Park Slope location is actually kind of swank).

I can’t figure out what Carroll Gardens' excuse is. I can’t see all the demanding high standards mommies putting up with the lameness on Court St. My guess is that all the SUVs lining the streets aren’t just for looks and that families are navigating the rough terrain to “real” grocery stores, or judging from the boxes tidily tied on recycling day that there’s heavy Fresh Direct usage in the area, or gauging from the number of black nannies carting around whiny white kids that many residents don’t do their own shopping and as long as their tykes get YoBaby (that’s probably not good enough—YoYo’s contain yummy Nutraflora®).

I do everything possible to avoid this store, which is difficult because it’s the only shop on my way to other thing like the subway (that’s not even true, I still have to go a block out of my way. How about some courtesy south of 4^th Pl.?). I’m not a Met lover by any means, but I think it’s a tiny notch above the KF, it’s just more of a haul. Yes, I know the neighborhood (for now) rife with old school purveyors like Esposito’s and Caputo’s, but I’m suburban, I want one stop shopping. And honestly, if you want anything non-Italian (which in my case is almost always) you’re kind of screwed. Serrano ham and gruyere (which is hardly exotic) have both proven to be tough finds.

I can’t decide which component of Key Food is the most irksome. Sometimes I think it’s their selection. If there’s anything I need they’re sure to not have it. Basic things like coffee filters, like I said cucumbers, mint, those stupid long Italian peppers that are everywhere and that I normally have no use for. And if they do have what you’re looking for it will be way expensive, in bad shape, or needlessly organic. Once all I wanted was run of the mill half and half, not like $10 special half and half. I was thwarted. Same with that cucumber, I desired a nondescript 50-cent cuke, not a $2.99 seedless hothouse version.  It’s about choice, and the fact that there’s not a lot to be had in the neighborhood (don’t even get me started on the countless mediocre Thai restaurants popping up like lemongrass weeds).

Sometimes I think the people (customers and staff) are the painful part of the KF experience. Like I said, there are a lot of strollers. Narrow aisles combined with clueless new moms, cranky seniors using walkers and those wheeled carts, and shelves continuously in mid-stocked states, boxes piled into roadblocks make for unpleasantness. The cashiers consist of teenage Brooklyn girls who never seem to actually be doing any cashiering. If their back isn’t to you because they’re talking to other cashiers or they’re not sucking on lollipops, the top of the register is open and there’s a problem with the receipt tape.

What I do love about this Key Food is how developmentally disabled folks always seem to find me. I wonder if there is a group home nearby. The other day a large older woman with a gray monchichi haircut accosted me near the yogurt, complimented me on my blouse and then recommended custard-style Yoplait. A little crazy, but at least pleasant. My favorite encounter was the time I was in my usual no holds barred hurry. I started bolting down an aisle only to be blocked by a weird little man that looked like a short pre-op Al Roker, with a giant brought-from-home cart. I started to bust a gasket, but stopped, calmed down, put a smile on my face, and politely waited for him to reach the end of the row so I could head down. He stops, looks at me, then says, “I like your hairstyle. Did you go to the beauty shop recently?” He totally caught me off guard and instead of indignantly huffing off I answered truthfully, “well, about a month ago” to which he added “you’re a very pretty lady.” Ha, that was a good one. But weirdo complement or not, it totally cracked me up. More of these types please, they made Key Food bearable. (3/05)

Against my better judgment, I do end up at Key Food maybe once every other week. Unless I feel like walking ten blocks or more after work when I’m usually beat up, KF is the only option. A few months ago, though obviously still fresh in my mind, I had a check-out experience to end all. I couldn’t even tell you the handful of items I was attempting to purchase, except that there was a head of garlic in the jumble. I thought KF was just employing super incompetent teens, but apparently they’re now hiring vampires, too.

First, I couldn’t get anyone to acknowledge my presence, which isn’t out of the ordinary. Then, one of the women decides to saunter over, she starts scanning my stuff, then screams bloody murder like she’s been stabbed or something, and then declares “I don’t touch garlic” and storms off from the register mid-ring up to go wash her hands. Then, I got to wait some more for another lovely cashier to take her place like nothing weird was happening.

 I almost lost my shit, and not even figuratively. I’m so sick of this store that doing something incredibly foul like defecating in the aisles is actually starting to sound attractive. I mean, if they have problems with touching garlic, just think what fun a pile of poo would create. (7/05)

Lowe's * 118 2nd Ave., Brooklyn, NY

Home improvement has never wound me up one way or the other. I don't have a home, and improvement of any variety has never been at the top of my to-do list. But an alternative to the heinous Red Hook Home Depot was welcome.

Lowe's is different, and not just because it's blue where Home Depot is orange. Or that they are customer service focused (they have greeters and employees that walk past you have to say hi, apparently) where Home Depot's staff acts like they wish you were dead. They both attract Hassidic Jews in droves (would someone please explain what's up with these guys and their d.i.y. fixation? Is it like Mormons having to go on missions, but in this case God wants them to build lots of crap? I noticed last week that the Dunkin' Donuts/Baskin-Robbins combo inside the neighboring Pathmark had put up a banner declaring themselves kosher, and I was like who freakin' cares over here. But then I thought back to all those handy Hassids-a very influential lot, perhaps.)

No, what sets Lowe's apart is its lovely attempts at urban landscaping. Both stores sit on the picturesque Gowanus Canal, but only Lowe's has brilliantly chosen to put park benches, gravel trails and light posts at water's edge to allow customers an eyeful of the breathtaking views. It's pure South Brooklyn beauty. There's the BQE to your left, a massive pile of garbage and metal natural gas(?) containers in middle sight, and the elevated Smith/9th St. station to your right. The benches facing the empty dirt lot under the subway tracks, filled with debris is really a sight to see. Also, don't miss the 9/11 mural, complete with giant bald eagle and American flags. Nice. (6/04)

Not too far from here, is this freakish, large-for-NYC Pathmark with a parking lot. I could never figure it out. I’ve passed it as a passenger countless times because it’s en route between James’s apartment, now my new one, and my old place.

The store gives the impression of being in the middle of nowhere despite being blocks from the Smith and 9th St. F/G line. Maybe that’s because it isn’t really in a particular neighborhood. That semi-industrial stretch of the BQE isn’t quite Red Hook, Carroll Gardens or Park Slope, though it cusps all three. I think it’s what they call Gowanus, despite not being an official neighborhood (though I do appreciate any word that contains “anus” like that).

I always figured this Pathmark must be a draw for Red Hook residents since it’s just on the other side Hamilton Ave. and that neighborhood is probably even a little more lacking in decent amenities than my old neck of the woods, Sunset Park north. In other words, it must be busted. But I was still curious about it.

James didn’t even know it existed until a few weeks ago when I pointed it out (I guess driving takes a lot of concentration—I just assume those who helm notice the same things as passengers). As far as wide-aisle, lots of choice, cheap “real” grocery stores go, he’s pretty loyal to Western Beef in Ridgewood. Which is kind of silly and out of the way, considering that’s now two neighborhoods ago for me, but it’s quick in a car. But still, we figured Pathmark might be worth a peek.

So yes, it actually is a real grocery store with a normal produce section, bakery, fish counter, etc. (however, they don’t have gruyere, which is a benchmark I’ve been using since I had trouble finding fondue ingredients a few months ago. The Pathmark on Atlantic does have gruyere and is a little more upscale than this location, but that place is pain to deal with and is housed in the most broken Brooklyn shopping center with the world’s saddest Old Navy, Marshall’s and Macy’s). They have Coinstar machines, self-serve checkout (which always makes me nervous outside suburban areas, people here have a particular knack for fucking the thing up, assuming it’s even working. At Home Depot, you’re lucky if one of four kiosks is up and running) and a bizarre mini mall arrangement inside with a Dunkin Donuts, optometrist, 99-cent type store, and liquor store that’s open on Sunday. It’s an all right place, especially if you’re one of those types who just enjoys the feel of pushing a cart around aimlessly and browsing varieties of Hot Pockets (not that I’m buying Hot Pockets, I just like seeing the flavors. Beef Taco just seems wrong.)

I was enjoying my leisurely Saturday afternoon stroll through the supermarket (yeah, this is what passes for fun once you start living with a guy) when out of the corner of my eye I see my old upstairs neighbor with that hideous, always-squealing toddler with a balloon jammed into a shopping cart mere inches from me. I was like oh shit, jerked my head to the right, then saw the dad on another aisle. And this was weird because just last week I had been speculating on where my upstairs neighbors shopped and conducted business because they don’t have a car either, and during my three-year stint in Sunset Park I’d never once seen them hauling groceries or laundry.

Running into my week-old former neighbors wouldn’t have been doomsday, but I like tidy endings. When I dropped off my keys with them last week it closed that chapter. It wouldn’t have been a big deal to just say hi at the supermarket, but I didn’t want to. It was like they were continuing to invade my world, as if it wasn’t enough to hear screaming, jumping and balls bouncing through the ceiling and have their horrible macaroni and cheese and Cheerios back up into my sink, and soapy shower water pour through the walls of my bathroom, they had to be in my new found grocery store too?!

Argh. I don’t even know how they got there, it’s not on a direct subway line, but they’re those Brooklyn types who take car services all over. I freaked out and ran into the frozen food section. And it’s not like I was really that well camouflaged considering that besides the foursome I was trying to avoid, James and I were practically the only other white people in the place (I don’t think it’s racist to explain a clientele in terms of color or ethnicity, but James thinks this is heinously wrong and embarrassing. But I don’t see how it’s offensive. Would it be upsetting if I said we were the only white people in a Chinese restaurant? Maybe it’s using “white.” Is saying we were the only non-Asians any better? Should I be P.C. and pretend like I don’t notice differences: “love see no color” [this was a lame slogan on street vendor tees in Portland in the early ‘90s]). It’s kind of like when you’re a kid and you see your teacher at the grocery store, running into them out of context is awkward, paths aren’t meant to cross in certain environments. There’s no escape in this world, I guess. (4/04)

Rainbow * 380 Fifth Ave., New York, NY (and throughout the city’s finest neighborhoods)

Ah, you always remember you first. Rainbow has been there for me since day one, literally. I hadn’t even been living in NYC 24 hours when I tagged along with near strangers on an L journey from Williamsburg’s then outer boundaries to Ridgewood, Queens.

I was totally freaked out, it was too everything, noisy, stinky (the girl we were visiting lived down the street from someone who kept chickens in their apt. and that part of the block smelled like a serious coop), chaotic, pushy. The crisscrossy intersection with relentless traffic that zooms underneath the Myrtle-Wyckoff station had me paralyzed with trepidation (or maybe it was the realization that I’d just moved across the country to a beast of city where I didn’t really know anyone or have any permanent place to stay had started to sink in with full force). Salsa music, too many people in too little space, and hotter May weather than I was accustomed to, started unsettling me.

It must’ve shown on my face. A random guy sidled up next to me, “don’t be afraid of the cars,” he repeated over and over in a forceful manner that I tried not to interpret as aggressive because I’m sure he thought he was being helpful though he wasn’t.

The only thing that soothed me that day (in addition to breaking down and having a cigarette, all hopes of starting out smoke-free in New York dashed) were the dingy little, almost all alike discount stores that line Myrtle Avenue. I’m still not clear how so many 99-cent stores survive in such close proximity. Dee & Dee perked me up a bit, then Rainbow totally boosted my spirits much in the way a real rainbow pops up after a storm and makes everything pretty. They had lots of cheap juniors-styled clothing, but in plus-sizes too, and a big shoe selection. Never mind the lack of air conditioning, I still felt comforted.

A month later I moved into a ratty but good sized apartment of my own in Ridgewood ($580 for a one-bedroom, no references, no job, no questions asked). Who knew I’d get stuck in that freaky isolated section of Queens for three years? At least Rainbow and Lerner turned New York & Company (where I promptly got a credit card for new work-friendly clothes and somehow still have a balance of over $600 six years later) made the neighborhood a little more bearable.

Now I live in a part of Brooklyn that thinks it’s too good for a Rainbow (they’re rarely in gentrified neighborhoods). Luckily, I now work walking distance to the best stocked location I think I’ve ever encountered. Fifth Avenue is supposed to be known for its shopping, right? Upstairs is a whole mini floor devoted to shoes, mostly under $25 and mostly crafted from man made materials. Downstairs is 80% plus size, 20% intimate apparel, which is frankly where I draw the line. The main floor is irrelevant to me.

Whenever I need a cheap pair of colorful shoes to match an outfit or a cute sleeveless going out top that might get worn a mere handful of times, Rainbow rarely disappoints. It’s a reliable, trendy for two months, go to, the way some might view Marc by Marc Jacobs or chains like H&M and Zara. But this is really cheap, as in $7 shoes and shirts cheap. Sure, the clothes are shoddy, there’s an abundance of unnatural fibers, and the style leans towards um, “urban” (think basketball jersey mini dresses) but if you’re selective, affordable accent pieces are there for the picking.

There’s no way around it, Rainbow rules. The motto on their almost-as-low-tech-as-Western Beef’s website says it all: “We sell attractive fashion at moderate to popular prices.” Yes, moderate to popular is a great qualifier. (12/04)

Rainbows I’ve Known

Fulton Mall: According to mapquest, this location is equidistant to my apt. as the Park Slope store, yet I rarely frequent Fulton Mall except to go to Junior’s. I’ve never been able to figure out why downtown Brooklyn is predominantly black (and why downtown Brooklyn is walking distance from Manhattan while downtown Queens is at the borough’s furthest reaches. What does downtown mean exactly?). The area is more municipal and commercial, not really residential, so it’s not necessarily like the clientele reflects nearby residents. Shoppers are drawn there for reasons I don’t quite understand. The one time I did visit this Rainbow, my scary upstairs neighbor (who happens to be black and recently moved to NYC, which was what got me to wondering about choice of shopping district. Like she’d only been the city a few months and had already decided that Fulton Mall was where she should be or wanted to be. It’s weird. I always try to avoid people like me.) was there and I hightailed it out fast.

Greenpoint: I’ve only been once, over six years ago to return too tight (Rainbow clothes lean towards short, snug and body hugging, it’s often wise to buy larger sizes unless you want to look like a hooker) items I bought during my virgin voyage in Ridgewood.

Park Slope: The lamest I’ve encountered. Way too small and impossible to squeeze between racks. Poor shoe selection and if you go upstairs to look at them a bell goes off and an employee will follow behind and keep their eye on you while you’re browsing.

Sunset Park: Much better now that they’ve revamped. They only recently got a plus size section and it’s housed upstairs in a huge space with plenty of shoes. This new incarnation rivals, and possibly surpasses the one near the Empire State Building. Too bad I don’t live walking distance anymore.

Stew Leonard’s * Stew Leonard Dr., Yonkers, NY

It wouldn’t seem that a dairy farm turned regional grocery store with animatronic singing livestock would have much in common with a Swedish cheap furniture conglomerate, but Stew Leonard’s is more Ikea than you’d think. They both have a loyal following. Despite sitting just beyond city limits and difficult to reach on public transportation, they are both thick with aisle blocking shoppers on weekends. And most importantly, both are laid out in that follow the path style where you are swept along with the tide of crowds and carts (god forbid you forget something and have to disrupt the traffic flow—at least Ikea has those sporadically placed shortcuts). Granted, Ikea is better known, and there are far more of them (there are only three S.L.s), but if people were better acquainted with Stew they would agree with my assessment.

In essence, Stew’s is no more than a campy cavernous grocery store with a petting zoo and outdoor seasonal selections. The prices seemed a little high, the stock was oddball--for instance they didn’t have basics like pecans, but there was plenty of seven-layer dip and cheese logs. A good portion of the store is devoted to prepared food, which I tend to shy away from. In fact, there is hardly a core to the place, there’s a deli section, bakery, meat and fish counters, then rows of refrigerated Stew Leonard’s brand things like soup, dips, sauces, sushi. And lots of steam tables filled with hot salad bar things you’d find in midtown delis during lunchtime: corned beef, kung pao chicken, macaroni and cheese, the whole hodgepodge gamut. I totally don’t go for this stuff, it seems excessive.

My theory is that in the suburbs take out and delivery isn’t as ubiquitous (I’m not sure about Westchester, but in Portland where I’m from, pizza is really the only thing you can get delivered to your home. My mom freaked when I told her you can get McDonald’s delivery Manhattan) so hitting a grocery store on the way home from work for ready-made food is their equivalent.

I do like the idea of roaming people in animal costumes, and their bags around the world photos are funny (and pre-gnome hype) but I wasn’t totally bowled over by the bovine shrine. But if I were ever in Yonkers I wouldn’t hesitate to stop in, pet a goat, grab a cone of soft serve and maybe pick up a box of frozen crab Rangoon. (12/11/04)

Strawberry * 129 E. 42^nd. St., New York, NY (and elsewhere)

Not all Strawberry shops are created equal. Some are cramped, some are sprawling. The Union Square location kind of sucks, while Grand Central’s might be my favorite. And it’s mostly about the shoes because I’m less than enthusiastic about their middle-of-the-road misses offerings . There will always be at least one pair I would like (often more) and they’re rarely over $39.99. I like to set my limit at $25 for this genre of shoes, though. The stock is similar to Century 21 really, but condensed and not as manic. And also like Century 21, whether of not they’ll actually have your size in stock is a crapshoot. I don’t know if I’m just easily pleased footwear-wise (I don’t think so) but there’s always something that suits me and people often seem surprised when I mention Strawberry if asked where I got a particular pair of shoes. It’s a step up from Rainbow’s shoe department, though not a massive step. (11/04)

Oh my, that plane that crashed off the runway in Teterboro lodged itself into the side of the Strawberry warehouse. Since there weren’t any fatalities I don’t feel too guilty wondering if any well-priced size 9.5 shoes got damaged. (2/05)

(Super) Stop & Shop * Various outer borough locations, New England is their base

I was tentative at first, but I’m really starting to dig Stop & Shop. In many ways it’s the anti-Western Beef, one of my favorite NYC grocery stores. The prices seem a little high (though not Manhattan high, and if you get a Stop & Shop card, which takes mere minutes because the staff is fairly competent and there aren’t Eastern Bloc long lines, discounts abound) and the vibe is bizarrely suburban. And therein lies its charm.

The aisles are the widest I’ve seen in the area, they have parking garages, it’s not agoraphobia-inducingly crowded and the selection is borderline bountiful. It’s not like you’re relegated to two or three brands per item. I wanted oatmeal and there was at least 30 sq. ft. devoted to my breakfast staple. And it’s the little touches like the florist section with mylar balloons, the automated bottle return section, free ranging toiletries not imprisoned behind a customer service counter. Classy, you know?

I can only vouch for the Queens locations, so far I’ve tried Glendale, Maspeth and Long Island City. Unfortunately, there aren’t any S&Ss nearby, the closest being in Kensington, which I have doubts about. I don’t believe the Kings County hype, there’s nothing remotely cool or hip about the borough’s sorry grocery stores. (6/05)

Target * Various locations, NYC

Forget that lame ass Target holiday boat and Mizrahi Rockefeller Center thing. Everyone knows stand-alone Targets rule, and Manhattan is just plain missing out. My first NYC box store experience was monumental, and it certainly wouldn't be my last. That's why I was so excited about the Starrett City Greatlands that opened a year or so ago in Brooklyn. But to be honest, it was more of haul than I'd anticipated, even by car. (My last foray into those oddball streets like New Lots Ave. was when I fell asleep/passed out on the L train [no, I didn't live in Williamsburg] and ended up in the Canarsie subway yards at 5am.) Starrett City is always an adventure, but not one I've repeated since.

The round, double-decker Target in Elmhurst has proven to be more my speed. And they've even managed to keep the shopping cart escalator from falling into disrepair (I was convinced the mechanical novelty would be perpetually broken). This location is more subway and pedestrian friendly than Starret City, despite its placement on the "boulevard of death," Queens Blvd. The center is enhanced by the presence of Outback Steakhouse, Red Lobster, Daffy's, DSW and assorted other mall stalwarts. But I think Queens still freaks a lot of people out, it's doubtful they get many Manhattan trekkers.

That's why I'm so curious to see what will happen with the Atlantic Terminal mall. Sitting atop a major subway hub, a mere express stop from Manhattan, it could be a hit. Part of me fears The City-dwellers will overrun the place like some undiscovered gem they've carelessly claimed as their own find. The other half wonders if it'll suck as hard as the bastard stepchild of a "mall" across the street. I've never encountered a shopping hub so ghetto un-fabulous as the Atlantic Center. The saddest Old Navy, Marshall's and Macy's ever, woefully reside in the concrete eyesore. I've heard that it was designed to discourage loitering, and believe me it does. But we're in a new millenium, and a new rapidly gentrifying downtown Brooklyn. There are going to be two Starbucks in the Atlantic Terminal mall, for Frappuccino-ing out loud (though let's not forget the middlebrow Chuck E. Cheese's that will also be present). Who knows what riches the Atlantic Terminal mall will bring to the borough? (7/15/04)

Ok, I've found out, and the embarrassment of riches is not pretty. Since I'm not a someone who gets invites to star-studded openings, even when they involve my precious Target, I wasn't privy to tongue-in-cheekily strolling the aisles with the likes of Maggie Gyllenhaal, Chloe Sevigny or whatever former and current it-girls decided to get all downscale and ironic last night. Where the hell was Scarlett Johansen? I can't think too hard on it or I'll fucking hurl, but don't you worry, I'll be there Sunday with the rest of the common people, the "Brooklyn trash," you know? Since July 25, the hard opening, falls on my birthday, I originally thought I must be blessed. But seeing how Lizzie Grubman's pained, poop-brown visage has already sullied the space, it's clear that I'm cursed. That's the kind of taint you couldn't even remove with an entire display of artfully poised Clorox bottles. (7/21/04)

Um, I can't even talk about Target anymore. The plain people's opening was just too traumatizing. Sunday, on my real birthday, I braved the new Atlantic Terminal mall opening. Jesus Christ. Actually it was almost exactly as harrowing as I'd anticipated. No celebrities, just lots of face painting (why do people equate painting children's' faces with celebratory fun?), a woman dressed like a princess, guys dressed like ringmasters on stilts, girls dressed like newsies (my personal favorite), a scrawny guy in a Spiderman costume who'd pose with kids for polaroids, and a band of guys playing steel drums. I only lasted about 20 minutes before succumbing to claustrophobia, it was shoulder-to-shoulder human traffic.

Are people really this chain store deprived? Actually, shopping wasn't even a realistic option because maneuvering a cart or gaining access to shelves was impossible with all the gawking. Ooh, Advil. Dog food...wow, never seen that before. And I'm a little nervous because we did survey the Chuck E. Cheese's on the top floor and there was a line wrapped around a bunch of velveteen ropes inside and went all the way out the door. (7/25/04)

For the Chuck E. Cheese's scoop, look no further. 

Hmm, so Target has been getting all fancy pants with its new house brand Archer Farms. It’s a notch up from Market Pantry (who makes a mean Dr. Pepper rip off called Spice Cola, not to be confused with Pepsi Holiday Spice). But I’m having a serious pet peeve with their new premium nut-filled caramel corn snack that has replaced Poppycock. Bring back the Poppycock. I love Poppycock almost more than anything in the world. Even Chinese Poppycock that was all wet and stuck together in a wad (the packaging was still cute). Despite being buttery, fatty and full of sugar, it’s a not-so-guilty little pleasure I can’t deny myself. It wasn’t like I’d buy a whole can, sometimes they’d have 99-cent small packs at the register. This was good, I need portion control. But now, nothing, and Archer Farms doesn’t offer choices like cashew lovers, just nuts, etc. and the only size is large.  A container of caramel corn that large is dangerous.

Oh Poppycock…I just discovered their parent Lincoln Snacks, and they totally rule. Who knew Fiddle Faddle, Screaming Yellow Zonkers and Poppycock all coexisted in such a way? (4/05)

Though I only spent a few brief years getting to know Trader Joe’s, it made an impression on me, and I’ve discovered I’m not alone. It’s one of the few stores I can get staunch New Yorkers worked up over. None of these everything’s-better-in-the-city types get my fascination with Wal-Mart, strip malls, or even Target (which I’d mistakenly thought was the new Manhattanite darling since opening in downtown Brooklyn). But when Trader Joe’s is mentioned, eyes brighten, heads nod, I’ve made a breakthrough. It seems that practically everyone has had the opportunity to visit the store somewhere in the U.S. and with this little taste, know they’re missing out.

I’ve always viewed Trader Joe’s as a source of cheap, semi-healthy and passably gourmet/specialty items. Honestly, that’s not a huge deal in Portland since the city’s bursting at the seams with organic crap, but in NYC, inexpensive quality food is a rare species, indeed.  But TJ’s (ew, that sounds gross, but I’ve heard people refer to it as such) ain’t what it used to be, at least not in my nearby travels.

So far, I’ve tested Scarsdale and Hewlett (the only one really accessible to New Yorkers via LIRR) in New York and Westwood and Westfield in New Jersey (why the two wests, who knows?). Westfield has become the Trader Joe’s of choice, if not because they’re the only branch that sells alcohol, but also due to their proximity to the most kickass Hong Kong Supermarket I’ve ever seen (to be written about soon).

I’m not sure if it’s Westfield that’s been clouding my Trader Joe’s nostalgia or if the store itself is just changing. On my most recent visit I felt like they’d hired character actors to populate the store. The nasal New York accent (or is that New Jersey? I can’t tell. Think what’s-her-name, that girlfriend of Chandler’s on Friends--not that I ever watch lame sitcoms, of course) was rampant. I guess it’s my own fault for doing the NJ trek on weekends, but in typical tri-state fashion the aisles are always so jammed you’d think they were giving away free Trader Giotto's marinara or some shit.

Level-headed shoppers have been replaced with zombies mobbing the back corner for cases of “Two-buck Chuck,” geriatric couples with wives who loudly lecture their hubbies on what the doctor said they can and can’t eat, the ladies who low carb, fervently checking labels and creating cart jams in the bagged nuts section, and the fresh off the turnip truck crowd (do they even have turnips in NJ—it is the Garden State, right?) who act like they’ve never been in a store that sells faux health food before, “look at this, chocolate-covered soybeans.”

I never thought I’d miss those free trade coffee swilling, Tom’s of Maine using, soyrizo-scarffing Oregonians, but they’re benign in comparison. Quaint. I used to pine for an NYC Trader Joe’s, but visions of Park Slope 40-year-old first time mommies, or worse, Williamsburg parents who think it’s cute to dress their babies in deconstructed rock tees from the ‘80s, snatching up lunch box-sized chocolate soymilk with glee keep my dream in check. I'll suffer sans Trader Joe's if it means keeping precious NYC riff raff at bay. (11/04)

This will have to be looked into, I’ve heard rumors of a proposed Trader Joe’s in either the Upper West Side or Union Square (or heaven forbid, both spots). A year ago I might’ve been rejoicing, but as an increasingly jaded crab of a person this news doesn’t fill me with elation. The New Jersey locations have become nearly unbearable; I can’t even imagine how this will translate in Manhattan. Maybe I secretly revel in reverse exclusivity, the ability to frequent out-of-the-city locales, and now any ol’ NYC riff raff will have equal access to peeled chestnuts, lump crabmeat or Plugra butter for a fraction of Dean & DeLuca’s (or shitty Met and Key Foods, for that matter) prices. It’s so indecent. (12/04)

Uniqlo * Menlo Park Mall, Rt. 1 & Parsonage Rd, Edison, NJ

Japanese style doesn’t necessarily conjure up utilitarian fleece, corduroy and cashmere. Maybe I’ve seen too much street fashion a la Fruits. Obviously, the entire island nation doesn’t sport pink hair, furry legwarmers and inflatable props. Uniqlo has been described as the Japanese Gap, which I wouldn’t wholly agree with. James heard about it somewhere (lord knows where, it’s not like he’s plugged into fashion media) and was gunning to go because he was under the impression that it was like the Gap of our youth, meaning basics in lots of colors, more specifically cords in shades other than the dulled-down fall tones dominating places like J. Crew.

Eschewing the straight from Sweden to midtown H&M approach, Uniqlo decided somewhat strangely to open their U.S. flagship in a small scale, run-down (though currently under renovation) Middlesex county mall. Perhaps they’re testing the waters in a less trend-driven suburban locale. This is my new favorite part of New Jersey. It’s relatively quick from Brooklyn, through Staten Island, and not as overrun as seemingly more affluent Bergen County. For example, Garden State Plaza has Hugo Boss and Louis Vuitton where Menlo Park Mall still has an early ‘80s sign out front, Benihana across the street, Spencer Gifts (actually, Garden State Plaza does too) and a dollar store (where I bought a bunch of totally unnecessary candy). Edison and surrounding townships contain all my favorites like the best Hong Kong Supermarket ever, Trader Joes with wine, an un-ghetto Costco, good dim sum, tons of Indian restaurants and a Dairy Queen. Now that’s living.

Admittedly, I happen to be a fan of the cheap, sparkly, $25 and under, six-month shelf life aesthetic. So, $79 cashmere cardigans and simple, solid color tees and turtlenecks didn’t do much for me. I did, however, purchase a lightweight black, slightly fitted (perhaps a little too fitted—I was afraid an Asian XL might not be so extra or large. The predicament certainly wasn’t helped by our later lunch at the on site Cheesecake Factory) windbreaker, which is sure to guarantee the torrential rain that plagued all of last week will let up. James fared better, buying up a couple pairs of pants, a butter yellow corduroy oxford, and three-for-$10 cute colored argyle socks.

I think two more New Jersey locations are in the works. I assume Uniqlo will eventually jump the Hudson. I can see it doing well with the Real Simple audience and organic baby food, no-to-little make up, SUV-owning set who inhabit my neighborhood (Carroll Gardens) and environs (minus Red Hook). (10/15/05)

Walmart * everywhere except NYC

Ok, they treat women and minorities unfairly, kill small business, ruin the character of neighborhoods, are taking over the world and promote fat disgusting American values. But c’mon, they’re cheap, and fun. Who else still has a notions section with fabric, yarn, buttons and craft supplies, and also sells hunting equipment and fake Dr. Pepper (Dr. Thunder) for 35 cents a can in vending machines? No one, that’s who.

The world’s going to hell in a hand basket, so why not save some money and revel in aisle after nice wide aisle of freedom of choice while you can. And don’t tell me New Yorkers truly love overpaying for crap bodega and dusty drug store shit that you have to ask for from behind the grimy counter. If that’s keeping it real, you can keep it.

Plus, Walmart is the only store in the U.S. to sell Rimmel and Mary Kate and Ashley cosmetics. Talk about exclusive. And Walmart in China is insane because they have food (I think they do in parts of the U.S. too), deli cases filled with tendons, organ meat and spicy marinated odds and ends. I would kill for that here, though we’d probably just get Boboli and Smucker’s Uncrustables.

Not in my backyard, they say. That’s just because New Yorkers don’t know what they’re missing and like to think they’re unique. I’ll be the first to admit I’m not special. Walmart come homogenize my city, please.  (12/04)

Western Beef * 47-05 Metropolitan Ave., Ridgewood, NY

I hear about how Fairway’s walk-in meat locker is the shit, and it probably is. You won’t get a lender jacket for warmth at Western Beef, you’ll just have to shiver it out with the rest of the immigrants and all-American freaks who’ve piled their carts to obscene levels.

I had the great fortune of living in Ridgewood during my first three traumatizing years in NYC. Don’t even ask, some things are just not worth understanding. But it wasn’t until the tail end of my stint when I got a boyfriend with a car that I even discovered the beauty of Western Beef. The car is sort of key because it’s located in a weird industrial pocket that borders Maspeth, Ridgewood, and Williamsburg (yes, Williamsburg. The hipsters raving about their stupid Tops so don’t know what they’re talking about). It’s not really walking distance from the nearest subway stop, Grand Ave. on the L.

You know when someone has suburban savvy, and it’s tough to find that charming quality in the city. When James’s college friend moved to Williamsburg from Baltimore, he didn’t have much faith in him. Yet on like our first visit to his new digs, he had Western Beef products all over the kitchen. He’d managed to sniff it out in his first week, which was very impressive. (Now the guy is married to the coworker he knocked up on a casual date and lives in Westchester with his new instant family. Sometimes suburban savvy will also get you into trouble.)

I know the chain is scattered throughout the city, but this is the headquarters, and notably different. “We know the neighborhood” is their slogan, they have what may be the cutest logo ever, a cartoon cactus donning a cowboy hat, and you can’t ignore their most awesomely low tech website. They rule on all counts. Really, it’s no more than a vast, moderately dumpy grocery store, quantity over quality, at least on the surface. You’re not likely to find broccoli rabe, rosemary, figs or Swiss cheese that isn’t deli-sliced, but that’s because Western Beef is about staples, massive selection of those basics, a surprisingly better produce section than most NYC stores contain, and lots and lots of meat, all at very reasonable prices.

Banana leaves, tropical fruit, those hideous little bottles of malta (I’m open minded food-wise, but this beverage is completely intolerable, the only thing other than melon that I can’t stomach) and practically every Caribbean root vegetable in existence are easy to score, plus there’s a large international section with lots of Eastern European cookies, jellies, pickled items and canned goods--they know the neighborhood, remember? This week they have Haagan-Dazs 1.88/pint, avocados 79-cents each, and turkey butts $1.19/lb, good deals (I don’t know if that’s a competitive price on turkey butts, but you know, it’s not every day you see them). And we just got our Christmas tree out front for $19.99, way better than Carroll Gardens rates.

But it never goes like this. Some freak will have two carts and leave one behind so there’s an empty ownerless one in front of me and our empty behind me. So, I’m sandwiched, the bagger starts putting food in the front one, James can’t pay because he’s stuck behind our original cart, and there’s no room to push or put it anywhere to get it out of the way. Meanwhile, a family will be breathing down our necks, so it’s not like you can back up an inch either.

As silly as it seems, this situation will always cause a fight, which is ridiculous because it’s not like I have much control over the check-out experience. Western Beef is becoming anxiety attack central, and that’s just a shame. (10/12/05)

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