I've mentioned Scoop before. It's one of my favorite stores and has been for the last few years. However, before a few years ago it was a different story. I used to be intimidated by the store as silly as that sounds. Here's why:
When I was twelve years old I spent the summer in East Hampton at my godmother's house on the Circle. I stayed in the annex of the house that was affectionately called the Cowgirl Room. It was called this because the previous owner of the house had commissioned a mural on the main wall of the room of a cowgirl and an Indian woman looking at each other longingly. This mural served as my introduction to lesbians.
Around the back of the house there was a new pool and an outdoor shower that to me made the house perfect. (And still does.) That summer was fun, luxurious, and full of new things to wonder about. Here's where the childhood fairy tale falls apart. There were these girls that hung out on Main Street. They were beautiful, stylish, thin, and had the ability to talk to boys. They were everything I had ever dreamed of becoming. They were fifteen. And they shopped at the Scoop right there off of Main Street. I dared not go in the store for fear that the girls would laugh at my Gap shorts and Benetton tee. I only had the courage to steal glances of the girls as I walked by with my six year old god-sister, on our way to Waldbaum's to buy chocolate frosting. And as crazy as it may sound now, that intimidation stayed with me for about twelve years.
Then one day (practically a lifetime later), without seeing the store’s name out front before going in I went into the SoHo Scoop and was immediately dazzled. Here's a sampling of what you will find at a Scoop: Alice & Olivia tunics, Zac Posen gowns, Theory blazers, Helmut Lang tees, Marc Jacobs dresses, Ya-Ya sweaters, Seven jeans, and Diane von Furstenberg wrap dresses. This is the wardrobe I’ve always wanted, I thought. And it’s all perfectly organized by trend, color, and type. I love order. I crave it. So that’s why I shop at Scoop today. And the memory of those beautiful East Hampton girls, perhaps.
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