Pat My Butter

it’s only the size of the walk-in closet i someday hope to have (big for a closet, to be sure, but not for a store).  blackbird candy shoppe is charmingly hipster, with walls as black as the clerk’s thick glasses.

unlike a clothing store (the candy shoppe’s sibling is the blackbird clothing store next door), a candy shop offers nothing to fondle or try on.  you look, imagine, admire the colors and shapes, maybe remember the last time you had that candy (an old babysitter used to bring my brother and i those candy buttons…)  blackbird’s size means that only several can fit inside at once, putting a little pressure on whoever is ordering.  this is good, though – just as your first instinct is usually right on a multiple choice test, you may find yourself impulsively requesting what you might not if you thought about it too hard.  and unlike impulse purchases at the blackbird next door, buying something here without checking the price is fairly low-risk.

the candy selection is modest – only white chocolate gummy bears had me stumped – but it’s not because of space limitations.  shelf real estate remains, or could be found, for quirkier luxuries (more chocolate, more shapes of gummy candy, more flavors of everything) which we can only hope are coming as the shop establishes itself.

every once in awhile, it can be awfully nice to focus on something we tend to treat so casually.  for me, candy usually comes from the grocery store, and is usually a snap decision based on what i can convince myself is the least unhealthy.  for some reason, that doesn’t matter when i’m at a store specifically devoted to candy.  here i choose on looks alone – the x-ray gummy fish are downright artistic, with a stained glass window-like body laid atop a white backbone. 

so, while i’m struggling with how to end this post, i’ll just say this.  go, get some gummy peach rings or pear jelly beans weighed out on the big fancy scale, and happy new year.