This store would make a Francophile out of anyone. The men's looks are simple but perfect (the fits make sense and the colors are sharp), and the women's collection is more off-center (either vintage-inspired or just plain kooky) but still hopelessly chic. I love everything about this store: the wide, uneven slats of the rough wood floor, the louche and sexy sales staff, the weird, Euro-hipster music (which they also sell, by the way), the spacious dressing rooms . . . the whole thing is just genius.
The Upper West Side excluded, this city is one of the few exceptions to the general, countrywide men's fashion-suicide pact (shorts, shirts with no collars, flip-flops, not showering, etc.). The local paradigms vary (suits, faux boating outfits, club wear), but "normal" turns out to be a surprisingly narrow niche. You might, on your journey to step your clothes' game up, wander by accident into Rick Owens and emerge with a leather jacket and no shirt on; you might go to Opening Ceremony... More »