As you probably know if you live in NYC (those posters are everywhere), a new Proenza Schouler store just opened up on Madison Ave. And luckily for us, Times reporter Alexandra Jacobs took an undercover tour of the new space and wrote about it for the paper's often-hilarious, rarely kind Critical Shopper feature.
This is a good one, and includes Star Trek references and kitten mentions. So, we've decided to condense it into a list of the article's funniest digs, many of which aren't even directed towards Jack, Lazaro, or the store itself:
On the benefits of designing clothes as a duo (a.k.a an excuse for some fun, totally unnecessary digs at John Galliano and Calvin Klein):
You and your partner may not agree on every inch of rickrack, but he’ll probably stop you from alcohol-fueled anti-Semitic rants and affairs with a tanned pornographic-film star half your age.
On the PS1, and the Chieko bag's resemblance to fictional creatures:
Personally, I think the thing looks like something a midlevel male account manager might use to lug his Dell laptop on a commuter flight to Buffalo, and I was glad to see many more-feminine, beautiful purses on offer, like the Toshi, a variation on the bowling bag, with a lock (woven leather and nylon, $2,375; woven leather, $2,925); and a whole menagerie of what I like to call Tribble bags, after the furry creatures on “Star Trek.”
Proenza Store vs. Star Trek:
Actually the whole place, tucked into a frilly brownstone but with interiors designed by the architect David Adjaye, is kind of “Star Trek.” Glass doors at the entrance slide open automatically. Cactuses rear up, an alien life form in humid New York. Reached by a flight of stairs behind a triangle-patterned screen, the second floor has a pockmarked look, as if brutalized by a recent meteor shower.
And many of the current clothes, like the jagged miniskirts in techno fabrics, suggest something Lieutenant Uhura might don to seduce or confuse Captain Kirk into another clinch.
On the sales staff:
“It’s almost frightening how great it is,” said my sales-bot, Emerald Whipple, whose resemblance to a young Zooey Deschanel (saucerlike blue eyes, brown bangs and winsome equanimity) was also almost frightening.
I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had offered a kitten as a gift with purchase.
(Or at least a cat hat)
“Would you like to buy me a pheasant-embroidered sweatshirt?” said one Proenza shopper to her companion as they exited empty-handed.
“Not today,” came the reply.