I reach you reporting live from my station in line at the official Topshop clusterfuck. Because what the hell else do I have to do of a sunny Thursday afternoon?
The line, if you're curious, stretches down Broadway to Broome St., down Broome, around the corner to Crosby, and then back around onto Grand St. That's this far:
It isn't moving very quickly.
The girls from the Madewell store are handy with coffee and donut holes, and there are roaming Topshop operatives handing out gift cards (inevitable value: $5. Validity: today only. Likelihood of making it inside Topshop by the end of today: as slim as the pants on the hipster in front of me).
What's more, the store seems to be nearly empty. I think they're keeping us all in line to build the hype, so somebody can go write about how OMG long the line is (which I suppose is what I just did — good strategy, Topshop!) But whatever, it's nice outside. I'll leave it to you to judge whether it's exciting or depressing to see New Yorkers, a breed which is ordinarily jaded about any number of things but perhaps especially about shopping, put on carefully selected outfits and brightly colored sunglasses, and muss their hair up just so, all to go see a chain store which probably charges too much money for what it is throw open its doors. (Very slowly.)
Oh, Kate Moss was here, but she left already. That's about it.