WRITE ON NEW YORK
Children’s clothing is gone. There are plenty of bathing suits. Shoes are scarce. Women’s plus-size dresses are in big supply. Men’s socks can still be had but tights and pantyhose: zilch. Rows and rows of jeans and sweaters but need a coat? 50% off but only eleven left. Versace is discounted 40% and still pricey.
These are the last days of Loehmanns, the 93-year-old retailer that invented designer fashions at a discount. In a strange way, my shopping trips to Loehmanns reflect my trip through the city’s boroughs. My mom took me to the Grand Concourse, I shopped as a single girl at Seventh Avenue in Manhattan, and recently, I introduced a new shopper to bargain-hunting in Sheepshead Bay: my granddaughter.
Yesterday I was celebrating. The producer of the TV pilot I’m writing called—yes, you heard that right, called—to say he likes the script. I decided it was time to head for the big Lo. I considered calling a girlfriend to go with but truth be told, when the ravenous shopping instinct hits, friends only hold you back.
Just before 7, I was sitting in my car on Emmons Avenue, wondering if this was the best way to celebrate. The front window is draped with a mammoth “Going Out Of Business” sign in red letters, and behind it, fluorescent lights create a soporific glare. Then I saw people going in. I tasted blood.
The place was bare. Loehmanns has always prided itself on barebones appearance and surly staff—you are here to find bargains, not to be pandered to—but the store was positively stark. Racks helter-skelter, hardly even walking paths, everything bearing big mark-down signs and a voice over the loudspeaker telling you without even trying to be smooth that coupons are no longer honored and gift certificates are good only through February 7th. Shoppers dragged carts filled to the rim with clothing piled high like wrecked cars in a junk yard.
Staff walked around with serious clipboards and I got the feeling they weren’t Loehmanns people at all but rather auditors from the bank or some other final counter like death itself. The few true salespeople you could tell by their listless gaze.
“When is the store actually closing,” I asked, hoping to come back and seize the $799-reduced-to-399 suede coat when it had been reduced to nearly nothing.
“They haven’t told us,” the staff replied, and looked away.
At first I puttered, I browsed. I tried things on, chatted with the fitting room attendant, thanked heaven for the softer lighting in the rooms, and found a bargain. And then another. And another. Then came—
The moment. When time stands still. When you realize you’ve been sailing among racks for hours, and finding finds and clutching tops, bathing suit, jeans, and sunglasses to your body like a secret lover. When, because you have surrendered and believed, the hidden forbidden treasures of the store have been revealed.
Chat with the cashier, tell her it’s been fun, and see her worn exhausted face light for a moment. The final tally is $124 for everything. Loehmanns is still kicking.
To read more from Diana check back next Wednesday here on AANY
or visit her website DianaAmsterdam.com
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Stella
I went up to Grand Concourse too. Rode the train up in the bad old days. Will never be anyplace like it. Those open dressing rooms! Bathing suits were even more of a horror than now.
Jim Boyett
Diana Amsterdam makes me wish I’d spent more time in Loehmanns, which is quite an accomplishment when you consider how much I hate buying clothes.