Rave at The Grove: Abercrombie & Fitch Edition
LAist set out on what was to be a simple mission yesterday, obtaining a pair of jeans. However, we made the mistake of trying to do that at The Grove, which is both a boon and a bane to the shopping wasteland of Los Angeles.
Our first trek took us upstairs at Banana Republic, which had every size imaginable except ours. Bummer. So, it was back out into the oppressive heat, making us wonder why we needed to wear jeans in the first place. Our wanderings took us past a thumping and bumping bass beat that was emanating from the very newly reopened, remodeled, and reimagined Abercrombie & Fitch gargantuan shop-a-palooza near the end of the trolley tracks. Live A&F models vogued it outside, and beckoned us inwards.
So...in we went. And we stepped into...what felt like a new dance club/bar experience. Except where there should have been alcohol and pretentious Hollywood types, we only found jeans and t-shirts. The music, fairly audible outside, was deafening inside. The lighting is downright DARK everywhere, except for the halogen-esque glows of the "bar" areas that feature their wares. We stepped up to the men's jeans pub, which had to be 30 feet long, and asked for a Jack and Coke. Upon remembering that we weren't in a bar, and also failing to extract a laugh from the jeantender, we asked for a fairly simple size of jeans. So he stepped back into the racks, which were filled with jeans galore, and looked. And looked. And looked. We could see the wheels trying to turn in his head, so we offered to step in and help out, but that seemed to confuse him even more. So, he ended up giving us a size not even close to what we asked for. We smiled, took our jean-cocktail, and backed into the darkness.
However, once there we discovered that there are no dressing rooms on the first floor. You have to go to the second, or the THIRD floor to strip down. So, up the elevator we went, discovering that the inside is covered with black wicker. This place is almost a jungle tiki room meets college campus decor nightmare gone wrong. We finally found the dressing rooms, and discovered that if you happen to make a "connection" with a member of the opposite sex while A&F'ing it, the dressing rooms are the place to be. The doors go from floor to ceiling, hiding what's happening inside, and there is plenty of room. The doors don't lock, but the attendants outside graciously knock first, and they seem to all have that twinkle in their eye that says "Go on...you've seen our catalogues, right?"
We finally found something in the jeans that worked for us, but when we went to pay, we found one lone clerk chatting with a customer. One clerk in a place that was crawling with "Can I help you?" types! We abandoned our jeans, stumbled downstairs, and decided that the rave was over. Maybe next time, A&F.