Macy’s and Gimbel’s

On a cold grey night in February I went to buy new sneakers.

Wandering into DNA Footwear on Fifth Avenue, the first thing I noticed -- after seeing how empty the place was -- was the age of the gentleman behind the counter. Not the young person who usually helps you fit your shoes and processes the sale but a man of a certain age -- that would be mine -- with a huge smile on this face. 

“Do you carry Stan Smiths?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “Your best bet is Nordstrom Rack. $48.” 

I looked at him, surprised, and launched into my Thelma Ritter-in-Miracle-On- 34th-Street imitation. 

“Imagine...Macy’s sending me to Gimbel’s…”

Ah, “Miracle on 34th Street,” the man said. “That was a good one.”

And therein began a 20-minute conversation about the pandemic, the plight of the small business, and how stores like DNA were surviving. The man told me he was the buyer and the sales clerk and sometimes the custodian. I understood. My husband works for a small business. He’s done it all.

In the end, I didn't go to Nordstrom Rack but purchased a pair of bright red Sauconys. It was a great shopping experience.

“We wouldn’t have had this conversation in Target,” I said to the man behind the counter.

“No, we wouldn’t,” he said as he flashed his smile at me and I headed back out into the cold February eve.

Shopping Yesterday Part IV

“I don’t like Woolworth’s,” my father used to say. “It feels like a big barn…”

I loved Woolworth’s when I was growing up. The Yorkville store, on 86th and Third, was where a kid on an allowance could have a field day. Hair ribbon, pen and pencils, notebooks, Woolworth’s had it all. I would wander the aisles, in that way that kids do with nothing but time on their hands, and do the mental math. How much could I actually buy?

Around the corner was Lamston’s, another variety store in the Woolworth’s vein. When I visited my grandparents, on Long Island, the basics, such as Ked’s-style white sneakers, were purchased at W.T. Grant, in Glen Cove.

I was never able to find another Woolworth’s but Brooklyn’s Save-On-Fifth – discovered when I moved there in the late ‘80s – came close. And still does.

Five aisles cover the basics – health and beauty, sewing, stationery, housewares, and cleaning supplies. And their prices are great. I get very crabby about paying $4.00 for a package of cotton facial pads – Save On Fifth has them for $1.99. They have my favorite Mead Spell-Write steno notebooks, and, in a world where you can no longer find a spool of thread without going to the Garment District, there are basic notions in the health and beauty aisle. No, they don’t have any exotic colors, but that’s okay. That’s what the Garment District is there for.

Save-On-Fifth will surprise you, as well. On a recent trip I figured they would have chip bag clips, but I was disappointed when I couldn’t find them. I asked the gentleman at the counter and he escorted me to a wall of chip bag clips.

And the folks at Save-On-Fifth could not be friendlier. “Hello, my friend, nice to see you!” the manager always call out. Last November we had a very animated conversation about the upcoming election.

Friends even come from out of town and make Save on Fifth a destination when they’re back in the old neighborhood.

“We don’t have anything like this in L.A.,” my friend, Sasha, recently commented.