Las Vegas transplant in the core of the Big Apple. Food, politics, movies, culture and intellectual mayhem ensue.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

You'll go broke here for sure...

I went to Rice to Riches in Soho yesterday, pre-double bill of 2046 and Howl's Moving Castle. I realize I may never quite be so hipster in my life, so I tried to savour the sticky, gooey flavor for as long as it lasted. (Until I got to a water fountain, basically)

I guess I'm just not a fan of rice pudding, but that wasn't all that put me off the experience. It is a queer thing, on Houston, and I mean queer in the Victorian context because I must say all I ran into were beleagured straight people with the hollow eyes of the damnably fashionable.

Rice to Riches, I swear, exists in some kind of universe where Ipods have eaten all major appliances. The surfaces are all smooth white, there is a computer installed for god-knows-what reasons, the workers all wear walkie talkies despite working feet from each other. It is big, it is bad, it is minimalist IN YOUR FACE. They take it super serious there. But not really. Except they do.

And seriously dude, it's pudding. Lots of flavors (some of which that don't taste like colored Elmer's paste), lots of different plastic units in which to "download" your selection. It was like the noodle shops in Blade Runner without the tetanus-y charm. There was badly executed irony on all text in the store as well, they threatened prosecution if you took more than one flyer, there were faux-cheery-yet-mildly-threatening stances on worker treatment on the wall ("If you have time to lean, you have time to mop", etc) and I generally got the willikins really bad.

The whole area is not of the Lord. One could walk for blocks and not see a soul amongst the high end designer stores by adacent scummy lots. There is an older, more cynical feeling there than amongst the miscreants at Union Square or St. Mark's. A jaded optimism in which you hope everyone watches while you scoop up your gruel and pay six fuckin' dollars for it. Yeah, six. You know, the Red Cross probably cooks better stuff down the block.

Howl's Moving Castle, though, it must be said, makes for an excellent palate cleanser.

1 Comments:

Blogger thynk2much said...

Your description of this place makes me feel all scared for some reason. That agendaless irony and aggressive hipness just frightens me. And that's only from READING about it!

7:41 AM

 

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