There are a few signs of spring that I have come to expect in NYC: renewed obsessions with iced coffee, resurgence of Mr. Softee trucks and picnic mobs in Central Park. They complement the 90 degree weather we have been having to say the least. While walking in SoHo yesterday I realized I forgot the most obvious of all— the shirtless Hollister greeters! I’m not sure if this is a nationwide practice, but at NYC’s Epic Hollister store in the heart of SoHo the Hollister dudes have traded in their plaid button-downs for their true SoCal attire of board shorts, zinc sun cream and shades. Though I am naturally repelled by the cologne stink bomb that surrounds Hollister for a city block, it seems to be quite the tourist attraction and, as a result, on the weekends Hollister has a line out the door for shoppers. The Hollister tourists are a funny bunch. Some of them stop, gawking and staring, until they realize it’s part of the jig and then shamelessly run up to the models to pose for pictures. It’s quite the spectacle.
Happy spring, dudes.