{"id":65406,"date":"2014-01-23T15:57:56","date_gmt":"2014-01-23T20:57:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=65406"},"modified":"2014-03-07T13:57:52","modified_gmt":"2014-03-07T18:57:52","slug":"customer-service","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2014\/01\/23\/customer-service\/","title":{"rendered":"Customer Service"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Loehmanns<\/a>

Photo: Romley, via Flickr<\/p><\/div>\n

I grew up in the suburbs of New York City, in one of the handful of commuter towns along the Hudson. One of these villages contained a bookstore\u2014a good one, with a fine selection of titles and a section devoted to attractive wrapping paper and greeting cards. However, the owner was so unfailingly nasty and abusive to her customers that my mother and I came to regard it as a challenge to make it in and out of the shop without incurring her wrath.<\/p>\n

We seldom succeeded. Anything might set her off: an innocuous question, a breach of obscure etiquette, a sneeze. Needless to say, she had a hard time keeping staff. Everyone was scared of her, and the atmosphere of the store was one of silent terror.<\/p>\n

There was only one occasion on which we saw anyone break through the ice. My mom and I had been compelled to patronize the shop after failing to find Miss Rumphius<\/em> anywhere else, and we had steeled ourselves for the arctic blast of the proprietor\u2019s contempt. But when we walked in, we met with an amazing scene. A plump, jolly woman was leaning against the counter and thumbing through a novelty book\u2014something about Jewish wit and wisdom, shaped like a large bagel.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, wait\u2014listen to this one!\u201d she was saying. \u201cWhen the temple was destroyed \u2026 the Jews built Loehmann\u2019s!\u201d She went off into gales of laughter.<\/p>\n

The shop owner remained stony-faced. Then:<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s true,\u201d she said, matter-of-factly. <\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

Frieda Loehmann opened the first iteration of the store in Brooklyn in 1921, selling designer overstock at bargain-basement prices. At its peak, the chain had one hundred stores in seventeen states. But I wonder if it ever acquired the mystique, or whatever you\u2019d call it, that it carried here in New York.<\/p>\n

Mystique, in fact, is sort of the opposite of what characterized Loehmann\u2019s. Despite the promise of the fabled \u201cback room\u201d\u2014the area that carried high-end designs\u2014the experience was aggressively low-rent. The particular smell of silk knits; the racks of dowdy blouses; the dozens of designers you\u2019d never heard of; the cruelly lit communal dressing room, filled with matrons zealously stripping naked; the mortification of bra shopping with my mom; the lack of any customer service whatsoever\u2014this is what I remember. I also had my wallet pinched at the Fordham Road location when I was sixteen and looking for a cardigan to wear over my prom dress.<\/p>\n

My mom and I did the vast majority of our shopping at Loehmann\u2019s, with occasional forays to the superb New Rochelle Salvation Army, but I can\u2019t remember ever buying anything I really liked there. Part of the problem is that we only shopped when I \u201cneeded\u201d something, and the one law of bargain shopping is that you will never find what you are looking for; it is an exercise in surrendering to fate, not attempting to master it. Whatever we found would have a strange cut, a gratuitous ruffle, a peculiar shade. I remember well the frantic trip to try to find ankle boots to wear with a new skirt; I was about to meet my college boyfriend\u2019s family. The booties we found were square-toed and kind of weird looking, but I felt good about them. It wasn\u2019t until I saw my boyfriend\u2019s sister staring fixedly at the sole of one of my shoes that I noticed the red 70% OFF<\/small> sticker.<\/p>\n

But it was just what you did.<\/p>\n

If you\u2019ve ever read The Bintel Brief<\/em>, the sixty-year collection of Forward <\/em>advice columns that helped Jewish immigrants navigate the challenges of a new, secular world, you may recall the plight of one Sadie Frowne, a garment worker who faced criticism for spending her hard-earned money on clothes. \u201cThose who blame me are the old-country people who have old-fashioned notions, but the people who have been here a long time know better,\u201d she writes. This would have been shortly before Frieda Loehmann opened that first Crown Heights store.<\/p>\n

In December, Loehmann\u2019s filed for Chapter 11, and now all the stores are liquifying their inventory. They\u2019ll be closed by March. The Chelsea location\u00a0is going to be a Barneys.<\/p>\n

But I looked up that bookstore on Yelp and found it had a one-star rating. \u201cJeez, the older lady manning the place is a grouch. I literally stepped in & out in less than a minute,\u201d said the first reviewer. Added the next: \u201cForget the merchandise, prices, or anything else by which you would ordinarily judge a business. The short, elderly woman who works here (presumably the owner) is an absolute nightmare. Ask anyone in the area; she\u2019s infamous. One interaction with her, and you will NEVER want to set foot anywhere near this godawful place ever again.\u201d<\/p>\n

It is good to know that some things never change.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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