Starkly white, the Ice Cream boutique downstairs features a full glass refrigerated counter stuffed with kicks, faux-flavor boxes hovering overhead, and an ice-cream scent installation.
Venture up Darth Vader's private, blacked-out, lacquered staircase... find your way by the blue laser lights gripping the edge of each stair and the constellation-festooned ceiling (technicolor, naturally) and you'll find yourself in the Billionaire Boys Club.
Cartoon starbursts looking like the Boys in question may have snatched them from a 1996 Takashi Murakami painting adorn the walls and shoppers/gawkers/addicts shuffle around on photorealistic moon surfaces while browsing the upstairs boutique. Obviously playing to the art-connoisseur's hip-hop space casino hopefulness (contact Sir Richard Branson for when this will be possible outside of Soho if you connect with that lesser-catered-to demographic), it's almost difficult to remember to check out the clothes and shoes. This feels so unnaturally enjoyable.
And where else will one be able to sit on an ice cream sandwich?
Pop in: 456 West Broadway. NYNY. X: Houston & Prince.
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