wheelchair fashion blogger in Chelsea NYC

An episode of spring fever was the catalyst to head into NYC last week. Springtime in NYC is the most beautiful season, one in which gives people a cue to shed their clothing and spend days and nights in outdoor cafes sipping $15 cocktails.

There was another reason I had to get downtown into NYC’s Meat Packing District.  I read an article about retail store, Scoop, which was having a blow out sale in order to liquidate their inventory before permanently shutter its doors at all 16 nationwide locations.

Scoop NYC - Good bye old friend. May you be replaced by yet another over priced restaurant or bar.

Scoop NYC in the Meat Packing District – Good bye old friend. May you be replaced by yet another over priced restaurant, bar or beauty bar.

I was aghast when I read the news, because it was–yet again–another downtown shop forced to shut its doors due to high rent and competition; the result of unstoppable gentrification in a overvalued real estate market. There are other problems plaguing the retailer as well, but I didn’t want to read about it. For me it was more about being forced to come to terms with an ever-changing NYC landscape, being replaced by shops better suited on the boardwalk of Atlantic City or Paramus, NJ.

Car with polka dots in front of Scoop NYC, Meatpacking district

I “spotted” this car right in front of Scoop NYC. Sooooo many distractions in this city.

Every generation romanticizes an era, but sadly I can’t stand to witness the last vestiges of my era disappear for good.

For anyone who isn’t familiar with the Meat Packing District of the 80s and 90s, it was a neighborhood where meat purveyors, cut and delivered meat to neighboring boroughs and restaurants. The place reeked of decomposing meat on summer days, which made it an undesirable place to live. But it was also a place where bars, nightclubs, apparel shops could flourish under cheap rent, drawing in every walk of life you could imagine. It was a district teeming with debauchery, drugs, filth, curiously drawing in humanity’s most odd, bedraggled, creative and whacked out cast-of-characters. It was one in which my friends and I were drawn to, because of the element of mystery, danger and adventure.

There’s no reason to continue  lamenting because neighborhoods change overtime. But the scope of change, fueled by gentrification and an overvalued real estate market became too surreal to comprehend.

Scoop, which has operated at 875 Washington Street in the Meat Packing district for almost 20 years was a perennial favorite of celebrities, fashion editors, and the downtown-crowd because of their designer stocked, one-stop shop for all your apparel needs. They were also known for sniffing out emerging designers, then ushering them into an enviable status.

I entered Scoop with my friend Kenn who writes the arts and music blog, NighthawkNYC.com, eager to take advantage of the up-to 30% sale. A cursory glance helped me determine, that sales in boutique designer shops stir a frenzy. I was undeterred because I knew I would find something.

Sale at Scoop NYC Meat Packing District

BACK OFF! I own this sale rack.

MSGM top at Scoop NYC

This is the face of “unobtainable fashion” defeat. I found this top by Italian brand MSGM, but they cut so damn small. WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T HAVE MY SIZE????? I am entitled to a size 6 that fits properly. This photo does not serve this gorgeous top any justice. I don’t care about global warming. I care that this top doesn’t have me as its rightful owner. SCREW YOU OBAMA, IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!


Wheelchair fashion blogger in ecstasy over a Eugenia Kim hat

This is the face of ecstasy. As soon as I put on this navy/honey straw Eugenia Kim cap, I sat there with that face for a good 5 minutes basking in its warmth. Kenn had to prod me to release me from my reverie. Look at those eyes. Nothingness, but complete bliss.


Wheelchair fashion blogger in Scoop NYC sun hat - Meatpacking district

Ok, wait. This is it. This reversible black and white, packable sun hat by Scoop’s own label, is  what  I settled on. I can bejewel the crap out of it. It is the perfect blank canvas  to add God-only-knows what.


Smiles and relaxation. Shopping. Who needs drugs? Kenn and I left in search of cheese plates, overpriced drinks and teens clad in leggings, with fastidiously morning-ironed-argoned hair and blubbery, exposed midriffs. We knew we could find them at the Sugar Factory.  $15 and up sugar laden drinks, with actual floating lollipops as a substitute for a straw. Inside this tourist trap you can find pretty, lacquered walls, too many Crate and Barell chandeliers, floor to ceiling candy-stacked corner with hovering helicopter moms chaperoning their New Jersey teens as they take incessant selfies next to giant gumballs. But my favorite? The genetically blessed waitstaff. What the hell happened to this ‘hood?  Oh NY, what happens now? We can’t go on like this.



Scoop NYC sunhat - wheelchair fashion blogger

Ahhh, what an exhausting day of shopping. Trying on hats while ogling  a mirror is laborious. What’s the best way to reward oneself? Bask in sunshine at an outdoor cafe, where you can watch people walk ear bud-sized dogs that are dressed in outfits that a fashion editor would die to wear in a human size, sip drinks that cost  more than a Bangladeshi’s weekly wage and watch couples who dine, while  texting the entire time. I’m so glad I can contribute to the NYC economy.

ONE FINAL THOUGHT: My friend Kenn, who I mentioned in this post wrote a beautiful essay about our shopping spree spend together. Do you have a moment? Then read this. I’m lucky I have such great friends.