I’ve never been one to be celebrity-obsessed, but there is a special place in my heart for the Kardashians. Say what you want about their fame, but I admire the work that indubitably goes into the countless television shows, perfumes, clothing labels and more. More so, I find them incredibly entertaining and interesting. From Khloe and Lamar’s endearing relationship, to Kourtney’s ineffably adorable son, to Kim’s disaster of a love life, it’s all engrossing. But what really gets me is the family’s dynamic; reality TV stars or not, you can’t fake the closeness of the Kardashian family. That being said, I was really looking forward to visiting the Dash clothing store during my Spring Break trip to New York City. Sadly, my experience was heartbreakingly disappointing.
The outside of the store was much cleaner and more elegant than those of its neighbors. However, upon opening the heavy door I was greeted by a young man in baggy clothes vacuuming the foyer. He paid no attention to the fact that I was trying to get by him in order to enter the store. I made a bee-line to the first rack of clothes to find exactly what I was expecting – beautiful items of clothing; some funky, some worthy of my pocketbook and some unwearable on the streets of Columbus. But nonetheless, all were distinct reflections of what I perceive of the Kardashian sisters’ style.
Unfortunately, every other aspect of the store overshadowed the expensive materials that lined the small store space.
There was absolutely no rhyme or reason to the organization of clothing. They hung in a cluttered fashion on thin wire hangers. The right side of the store featured Dash apparel, Kardashian perfume, cologne, books, etc. All were sort of thrown on the shelves in a messy fashion.
An older gentleman in a suit appeared to act as security, but did little more than lean against the counter and converse with the three employees who migrated in the center of the store. In the approximately 20 minutes I spent in the store, all talked amongst themselves as if there weren’t a dozen shoppers roaming about. When I asked to try something on, a female employee waved her hand to the back room as if I were an idiot for asking such a thing. Needless to say, I didn’t buy anything.
While my affection for the Kardashians is far from squashed, my poor experience has certainly tainted my feelings. For a multi-million dollar empire, their Soho store was far from dashing.
