I loved reading this article..
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NEW YORK TIMES
By ALEX KUCZYNSKI
Published: April 28, 2005
THE other day I attended a ladies' lunch, which means I ate lunch while several other women seated at the same table pretended to eat lunch. The nonlunchers waved their empty forks around and decided I was wearing a spectacular pair of earrings; each took her turn guessing their provenance.
"Tell me," one said, leaning close. "I'd guess Temple St. Clair Carr."
Another woman thought she had seen them at Barneys.
"They're Me&Ro," she said. "I saw them. They were $2,000."
The earrings, delicate golden threads bedizened with what look like tiny green gems, are from Forever 21. And they cost $3.80. Less than the tip for the coat-check girl after lunch. This news was greeted not with the elation of discovery but with a disturbed silence. I swear I saw the words "Does Not Compute" scroll across one woman's forehead.
For women of a certain age - that age being somewhere over 28 in this case - the words "forever 21" are simply a phrase one utters to the plastic surgeon. But for many others Forever 21 is another entry in the field of cheap-chic stores like H&M and Mexx. The clothing is eye poppingly inexpensive - prices are even lower than at H&M - and aimed at teenagers and bargain hunters.
Founded by a Korean businessman and his wife three years after they immigrated to California in 1981, the chain now operates 200 stores in the United States. The first in Manhattan, on 34th Street, opened in 2003, and the second, off Union Square, opened last year.
If stores were Hilton sisters, H&M would be Nikki, and Forever 21 would be Paris. Where H&M might have restrained cargo pants and khaki blazers along with camisole tops, Forever 21 offers a dazzling array of silk chiffon halter tops, sequined denim jeans and terry cloth hot pants.
On a recent visit a rack of shirts made of nylon string, and meant (I presume) to be worn with a camisole, fluttered in the breeze from the store's open front door. Next to them a rack of silk chiffon miniskirts (yes, silk) with sequined detail ($22.80 each) competed with a row of Marc Jacobs-esque silver handbags ($15.80). Short cotton skirts embroidered with tennis rackets ($12.80) didn't look as if they would ever be worn for tennis.
These are the clothes of the adolescent in chrysalis phase: she needs a cool outfit, and it shouldn't be too expensive. Her attention span is short, and her identity fungible, so she must change often.
Partly because of its tourist-heavy location, Forever 21 at 34th Street is a kind of United Nations of fashion-conscious young women. In the space of 20 minutes I heard Iranian, Spanish and Russian and detected several British accents. During the noon hour two young Chinese women carrying satchels full of Falun Gong pamphlets browsed the boy-short underpants ($4.80).
At the same time two young women were clearly preparing for an evening out. One of them held a black key-ring halter ($15.80) to her chest and spoke a sentence in what sounded like Russian that ended with two words in English: "Friday night."
Her friend picked up a diaphanous green silk shirt and, holding it up against her friend's face, uttered a similar sentence, ending with the words "Saturday night." Judging by her tone and the emphatic lift to her eyebrows, Saturday night date's was definitely the more promising one.
ON that first visit I bought a short-sleeved hooded sweatshirt in navy blue, which could have looked a bit too reminiscent of the Juan Epstein character on "Welcome Back, Kotter," but it had been feminized with flowers and rhinestones and so looked more Gwen Stefani than Sweathog. At $15.80, I expected it to fall apart after two wash cycles, but it has retained its color and rhinestones. (I did wear it once before washing it, and it turned my torso Smurf-blue, a problem that the washing machine remedied.)
A gossamer-thin pink cotton T-shirt for $6.80 fared similarly well after three washings, and has worn better than a similar shirt I bought at Calypso last summer for $80. For my stepdaughter, who at 22 loses a handbag in a nightclub about once a week, I bought a clutch purse in subtle gold perforated pleather for $9.80. At that price a purse literally does become disposable, although this was such a good-looking, simple bag I hoped it would survive a few weeks.
Upstairs, as a rapper sang on the store's soundtrack, I cruised the satin baseball jackets embroidered with dragons for $54.80 (about the most expensive item in the store) and faux tortoiseshell sunglasses for $4.80. The dressing rooms are spacious, and teem with young women hustling armloads of clothes in and out and dashing from room to room. The changing areas are not terribly placid, nor even terribly fresh-smelling.
On my second visit the canvas drape shielding my 30-something body from the crowd of teenage girls was pulled back by mistake at least twice. Sorry, they mumbled. The drape closed. Then, giggles.
Listening to these girls, and sorting through the camisoles and bra-tops and clinging skirts and sequined blue jeans - the throwaway clothes of the young - I was struck by a chord of powerful nostalgia. When I was 21, my friends and I would prepare for an evening out by picking up a $2 T-shirt at Canal Jeans, then sifting through the bins in front of Alice Underground for $4 vintage skirts.
Tailored with brooches and safety pins, these outfits were designed to last through a night of gallery-hopping (for the free wine) and nightclub dancing, and see us through to a 5 a.m. breakfast of huevos rancheros at the Astor Place Diner.
Now Canal Jeans is closed, the diner is a Starbucks, and I am a grown-up whose friends only pretend to eat lunch. I am probably not going to wear the Forever 21 paisley-print gauze top ($14.80) with the capris in aqua ($15.80) out to any lunches. But I'll wear the earrings. They'll be my secret talisman, a memento of the throwaway days of youth.
50 West 34th Street
(212) 564-2346.
Atmosphere Austin Powers meets the Gap. White modular furniture and sequined walls.
Service Bare-bones. Cash register attendants, and lots of salespeople putting out new clothes but unable to answer questions about availability in other sizes.
Key Looks Halter tops, cotton skirts, metallic handbags, inexpensive ethnic jewelry.
Prices $2.80 for a bracelet to $54.80 for a satin jacket. All prices end in 80, a spokesman said, to give back "just that little bit more to the customer."