Don't Get Too Attached
One of my favorite places in my neighborhood is the local pharmacy, Goldberger's. Duane Reade this is not. It looks like a pharmacy, it smells like a pharmacy, and unlike the great Pain Reade, the people behind the prescription counter actually know what the fuck they're talking about. Also, it has that great neon sign dating from mid-century.
I find it remarkable that they've been around since 1898 (which means that monstrosity of an apartment building has also probably been around that long. Actually, that makes sense - they're redoing the brickfase on the York Avenue side and it looks amazing. But I digress). Goldberger's is the type of pharmacy you don't visit unless you have the 'itis; meaning, there is really nothing enticing you to make a shopping trip of it, unlike CVS or Walgreens or D-R, the majority of whose shelves are stuffed with laundry detergent, coloring books and non-perishable foodstuffs. Old school, like I remember in my grandmother's neighborhood in northeast Philly. I love that.
Saturday I had to pop in because a head cold which I had been ignoring for the better part of the week got the better of me. I knew it was the oldie but goodie post-nasal drip show followed by an encore of tubercular-sounding coughing, so I asked the pharmacist on duty what to take. After informing me that she had had the same cold a week ago, Annie Parisse Doppelganger handed me some Robo-Robotussin generic syrup that could take the paint off a car. It says that it's non-alcoholic, but I knew better from the birds tweeting around my head 5 minutes after I would take a dose. Now that's some doctorin'!
In a wasteland of chain drug stores, Goldberger's is the one place I know I can go to get better and actually get better. Maybe it's the retro vibe, maybe it's the customer service, or maybe it's just the fact that the people behind the counter have a brain in their head. Still, every time I visit it's a little bittersweet, for I can't help but feel that one day I'll walk through the door and be faced with a row of Chase ATM machines.
6 comments:
That's a beauty
Last night I met friends in my neighborhood for dinner. On a stretch of Broadway between 90th-92nd Streets, I passed three empty storefronts that once housed indie stores, all who have closed in the past six months: Liberty House, a charming little flower shop and Murder Inc., a truly great neighborhood bookstore.
I was so unbelievably sad at that moment!
beautiful neon, too! god forbid it will one day end up being sold at salvage and hung like a hunting trophy on the massive wall of a yuppie's condo loft.
I can confirm your drug store's medical knowledge. I had the exact same post nasal drip/death cough a few weeks ago and found myself at the late night medic. His prescription...I-forget-the-prefix-o-tussin with codeine! It was fantastic.
I so envy you living in NY. I love pharmacies too- although over here (UK) we call them the chemist.
ok, a) i love the pic - i love the vintage neon - awesome.
b) i once worked for us satellite broadcasting before we were gobbled up by direct tv - anyway, across the street from us was a vintage lil' drug shop similar to the one your describing - it was awesome... it's non-drug shelves were sporadically lined with gift items for your grandma and a pathetic lil' toy aisle which i'm sure i would have loved when i was 4. i really did look a bit like a poorly stocked Ben Franklin store from my childhood + it had drugs. and druggists knew what the hell they were talking about (as opposed to the Walgreens near my house where the Korean pharmacist who's young enough to not be able to grow a decent mustache walks around in a dress shirt with the sleeves cut off - dangling threads and all while showing me his armpit hair when he's filling my script)... ooh and the best part?, this vintage shop had apothecary like wooden shelves behind the counter filled with all sorts of FDA approved treasures....
of course a cvs went in down the block and killed it completely.
sigh... the modern world, not all it's cracked up to be.
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