Not the Purple Dinosaur

When in San Francisco, take a drive on O'Farrell Street, continue until you hit Stockton and you have just entered into a land of luxury. Take a first glance at that magnificent structure and you see a scarlet red column along the side reading: BARNEYS. It reads satisfaction as you feel empowered and more than ready to see what is inside. Pulling open the grand glass doors, a rush of heat glides across your face, a banquet of high fashion is in your presence. Standing on the creamy marbled tiles of the first floor there is a spread of handbags all tactically placed on its shelves, all alluringly hung on the walls. Patent leather catches your eyes, but your mouth waters as you stroke the abnormally smooth leather of the Givenchy Nightingale bag. It smells so new, so fresh, so expensive. Bags are at war with you shooting at you from every which way, with the ceilings so high, it is overwhelming. With all this excitement, jewelry is also in your presence. Display tables are positioned in octagonal positions, the dazzling pieces of art gleaming through the barely there glass, tempting you to dive in and grab them. Quiet elevator music plays as it puts you in a trance, convincing you that the rest of the world is this luxurious and this majestic. White walls surround you, artfully covered in elaborate displays consisting of metal, denim and a variety of bizarre items. Men in perfectly tailored suits and women in professional apparel stroll around the floor with their keys jingling at their wrist. Like an army of well dressed people, there are more of them watching over the second floor. Dipping your toe into the Barney's pool and hoping not to get too wet, you fall into the deep end. The shoe salon.

As you walk up the marble steps, your hand is massaged by the uneven texture of the metal rail. The hand roughly glides up and you eventually reach to a destination filled with racks and ledges of designer shoes. The floor is now covered in a cream carpet, your shoes gently sashaying against it. As you peek inside the little cubbies holding each shoe, every one has its own light bulb, illuminating the fine parts of each individual masterpiece. A whole floor is devoted to shoes, the most beautiful shoes in the world. The pine wood shelves are placed throughout the level each carrying their own brand. Christian Louboutin, Chloe, Yves Saint Laurent, each name clearly labeled on sleek metal rectangles and positioned on their given shelf. Low glass tables are placed in the center like little lonesome islands. The shoes act as a nation, all the same and all the same purpose, but to see these labels distinguishing one from another, each brand becomes their own state, competing for attention. The glossy four inch peep toe heels resemble the celebrity life in southern California, the exotic wooden wedges resemble the oceanic life in Florida, and the suede over-the-knee boots resemble the chic women of New York. Each having their own personality, one can then choose what state they want to populate.

Taking the stairs that is the scenic route to the next level of this edifice, your heart starts to beat out your chest as you get glimpses of couture gowns straight off the runway. The frothy fabrics flowing calmly while hanging on metal racks. Vibrant colors of cobalt blues, fuchsia pinks, and golden yellows perfectly compliment the serene hues of lavenders, peaches, and mint. Ornate rugs cover the floor like you are on a magic carpet ride, a whole new world has been entered. The elevator music is still going on as you are still in paradise. Running your fingers against the lavish fabrics, it feels like a pool of metal marbles against your body, the cooling sensation makes one feel as if you are the first one there, like you have just made a brilliant discovery.

Only having visited two levels of the department store there are four more, ready to feed you all the latest fashions, filling you with the finest. Each level consists of clothes all organized into sections of edgy cool attire, waiting to drape over your body.

This is a building of delight, feeding your every materialistic need. This is a building of savory goodness, making your mouth water. This is a building of heaven, filling your indulgences. This building is a feast being devoured, leaving you satisfied. When you enter the building that is Barneys New York you cannot help but to have your eyes widen with curiosity, gazing at the strategic displays of mannequins covered in thousands of dollars worth of designer clothing and accessories. Your wallet, hidden inside the classic Chanel quilted flap bag is just begging to escape, pulling apart the clasped flap and ripping the golden chains off your shoulder. Tempted by the six levels filled with absolute bliss, it is a dream come true. Nothing in this department store lets you down, nothing in this department store makes you mad, nothing in this department store leads you down a never ending hole to Wonderland, it leads you up a never ending path to a world where clothes are your friends, where shoes make up the ground you walk on, and where money means absolutely nothing. The dream you are in when stepping into the doors of this department store makes one ravenous, but as you make your way up the marbled staircases that spiral the building you are slowly being nourished by the resplendent attire that is Barneys New York.

--Michelle