NukeMeSlowly
Senior Member
- Joined
- Mar 13, 2006
- Messages
- 862
- Reaction score
- 8
So, I am in Boston for the first time. This morning, I went to Cambridge with a list of places to check out. First up, the Andover Shop.
In a phrase - my worst shopping experience, ever.
I was surprised how small the place is - my hotel room is actually bigger. I started to look around and immediately started to pick up a weird vibe from the staff. I don't know the names so I will give descriptions. First guy, looked like a shorter version of Fred Gwynn of Munsters fame. Second guy, harried looking weasel faced gent. Last guy, short, old, has artificial voicebox (owner I believe). Turns out, asking questions at the Andover Shop gets you thrown out.
I am not kidding.
Now, I am not talking about questions about their wives' favorite sexual postions or if they screw goats. I mean questions like "Do you have the Thurston braces in boxcloth?", "Is this suit made by Samuelsohn?" and "Do you have a measuring tape I can use?" [I wanted to get some pocket squares but I wanted to make sure they were big enough and Fred Gwynn didn't know their dimensions] That last question got me tossed from the store. Weasel face guy started yelling at me and cancer throat guy told me to leave. I kept my composure and asked if I had somehow offended them. What exactly had I done wrong? Cancer throat just kept muttering and shaking his head in disgust. Despite wanting to burn the place to the ground (verbally, if not literally), I kept my composure and left.
What the ****?! I have never received this type of treatment before - anywhere. For the record I am not a skinhead with a swastika tattooed on my forehead. I walked in on a snowy morning wearing cords, AE bluchers, a Jantzen shirt, a Navy Peacoat, and a Borsalino trilby. Hardly a cause for alarm.
Fuming, I walked 10 blocks north up Massachusetts Avenue to Drinkwater's and got precisely the opposite treatment. Gary has a great shop, is a consumate professional (he, gasp, measured the pocket square I ended up buying), and even let me vent about the scumbags at the Andover Shop.
So, in closing, when in Cambridge take a pass on the Andover Shop unless you are into humiliation and abuse from geriatrics with bad shoes and worse hair.
In a phrase - my worst shopping experience, ever.
I was surprised how small the place is - my hotel room is actually bigger. I started to look around and immediately started to pick up a weird vibe from the staff. I don't know the names so I will give descriptions. First guy, looked like a shorter version of Fred Gwynn of Munsters fame. Second guy, harried looking weasel faced gent. Last guy, short, old, has artificial voicebox (owner I believe). Turns out, asking questions at the Andover Shop gets you thrown out.
I am not kidding.
Now, I am not talking about questions about their wives' favorite sexual postions or if they screw goats. I mean questions like "Do you have the Thurston braces in boxcloth?", "Is this suit made by Samuelsohn?" and "Do you have a measuring tape I can use?" [I wanted to get some pocket squares but I wanted to make sure they were big enough and Fred Gwynn didn't know their dimensions] That last question got me tossed from the store. Weasel face guy started yelling at me and cancer throat guy told me to leave. I kept my composure and asked if I had somehow offended them. What exactly had I done wrong? Cancer throat just kept muttering and shaking his head in disgust. Despite wanting to burn the place to the ground (verbally, if not literally), I kept my composure and left.
What the ****?! I have never received this type of treatment before - anywhere. For the record I am not a skinhead with a swastika tattooed on my forehead. I walked in on a snowy morning wearing cords, AE bluchers, a Jantzen shirt, a Navy Peacoat, and a Borsalino trilby. Hardly a cause for alarm.
Fuming, I walked 10 blocks north up Massachusetts Avenue to Drinkwater's and got precisely the opposite treatment. Gary has a great shop, is a consumate professional (he, gasp, measured the pocket square I ended up buying), and even let me vent about the scumbags at the Andover Shop.
So, in closing, when in Cambridge take a pass on the Andover Shop unless you are into humiliation and abuse from geriatrics with bad shoes and worse hair.