the fashion anthropologist

A comment from my class blog- it’s great to see how we build relationships with stores and how they often shape our lives:

Phaedra Martin/Betty Soapmaker commented on Apothe-carried Away: The retail therapy of C.O. Bigelow

Very nice, Kimberly! When I moved to NYC in 1992, I would walk home from work (25 blocks!) just so I could pass by Bigelow to shop and get inspired. Now I work for The Soap & Paper Factory and we’re all so honored that C.O. Bigelow carries many of our products. (We’ve also had the pleasure of getting to know the current owner and other members of their staff because their warehouse is two doors down from ours.) They are an all around fantastic company! I hope they see another 172 years!

Sincerely,

Phaedra

A recent blog posting from an assignment for my class, “New York Fashion”:

Walking down 6th Ave. late this afternoon with the assignment that Christina had just given us burning on my mind, I had a pretty good idea of what type of store that I wanted to analyze. I was tired, and developing a mild headache, and so the last place that I was seeking was a store full of teenagers, or blaring with loud, obnoxious music, or for the urgency to be pushed into purchasing something by an over-zealous sales representative.  For this assignment, I wanted to experience a retail shop brimming with character and considerate of offering the walk-in customer a pleasant (or even calming) experience.  The key word I wanted this store to embody (from class) was “ritual”.Still an infant to this town, I was dependent upon street signs and landmarks to locate myself, and from a couple of weekends before, I faintly remembered walking past an antiquarian drugstore. After trekking about three blocks from school I found it: C.O. Bigelow.  The facade of the shop is absolutely charming and novel- the name is emblazoned in its original typeface on the window which offers a peek into the small but bustling space.

C.O. Bigelow NYC storefront. 

(image courtesy: http://ispynyc.wordpress.com/2008/10/21/co-bigelow/)

Immediately after I had walked in, the experience was a sensory overload, much like one of my favorite stores, Sephora.  Yet this store was the grandfather to Sephora- every shelf and counter was thoughtfully curated with brands priced from economical to ‘breaking the bank’, items that catered to babies and elders, items both local and far-flung, brands both commonplace and totally obscure. I noticed girls that looked like professional models sauntering the aisles for their favorite low-budget beauty finds, executives rushing in for items after work, and seniors shopping for items they’ve trusted over time.  After five minutes of seeming a bit lost (yet trying to pretend I wasn’t) I was approached by an energetic and petite woman, Colleen, whose warm and genuine personality seemed to reflect the ‘mom and pop’ vibe of the store.  The segue into our discussion of discovering my possible shopping needs began with a compliment of my outfit.  She told me she had a feeling I was doing something in the city related to fashion, and at that point I let down my guard and told her I was there for a class assignment from Parsons.  Intrigued by my assignment and the nature of my studies program, she introduced me to Ian Jay Ginsberg, a sharply dressed man in a suit whom I had walked past at the entrance and was initially intimidated by.  Ian is the president of the store, and his dress and gentleman-like manner illustrated the passion and reverence for the C.O. Bigelow brand name.

Colleen gave me a tour of the store, and gave me a brief, yet very impressive, history of the store.  As you pan the space, the architectural integrity of the building remains intact, and the store prides itself on its antiquated fixtures which maintain an aesthetic appeal to this day.  As we looked up at the ornate ceiling, Colleen pointed out “Those chandeliers… they ran on gas, so when 9/11 hit, we were one of the few places with lighting!” She then took me to the inside of the storefront window where a large, greenish glowing lamp was hanging, and explained that back when contagious diseases were running rampant at the turn of the twentieth century, elaborate lamps such as this one were lit and signified by color to let outsiders know that C.O. Bigelow was a pharmacy that had stocked treatments for typhoid fever.  Likewise, the store is decorated with a few other obsolete fixtures such as scales, oil lamps, and cash registers that embrace and display the apothecary’s illustrious 172 year history.  The shop was novel indeed, and I was falling in love with it.  Colleen walked me over to a corner of the store which displayed a book that cataloged the shop’s famous achievements (it was the location of the first penicillin vaccine) and then took me to the back where the shop’s pharmacy is running in modern form.  She emphasized that the pharmacy’s point of difference is that it carries not only pharmaceutical orders, but also caters to the naturopathic crowd with homeopathic remedies.

The shop stocked just about anything you were seeking in the care of your body, and the un-uniformed, doting staff made you feel at home, causing a sense of wanting to buy something- anything.  I wasn’t surprised when Colleen had told me that celebrities make frequent trips into the shop, and in the historical catalog she showed me a letter addressed in the early 1900s from France requesting a box of Johnson’s (misspelled “Joynsons”) baby lotion.  The enduring novelty of this store, and the romance that you find yourself engulfed in when you wander though its aisles certainly makes you feel that C.O. Bigelow must be doing something right after all these years.  As I walked out of the store, Colleen invited me to come back again.  I said I would, and I meant it, beaming from my newfound retail therapy experience, and a little black and white shopping bag proudly swinging from my fingers all the way to the A train.