On most days in Manhattan’s hype-powered economic zones of SoHo and Nolita, you’re bound to see people lined up on a sidewalk, waiting to spend their money on something.
In the multi-block radius surrounding 50 Prince Street, where the 41-year-old, SoCal-born streetwear brand Stüssy opened a new flagship store in February, you’ll find such lines wrapped around business in every direction. One block east is Prince Street Pizza, a spot known for its square slices with blistered pepperoni cups; down the block is Aimé Leon Dore, a streetwear boutique with an in-store cafe that sells Instagrammable clothing and iced cappuccinos; and several blocks west is The Corner Store, a clubby bistro whose menu channels a gourmet Applebee’s, which boasts one of the hardest-to-get reservations in the city right now.
Indeed, in the case of the new Stüssy store, the queues were all but predestined. “If you see a long line on Prince Street, this is why,” wrote Time Out New York not long after the store opened on Valentine’s Day, inviting down-the-block waits that fans documented on TikTok. It’s New Line City over here.
Around 4 p.m. on a recent Friday afternoon, around 40 customers had queued up outside of the shop, many of them bundled up to ward off the faux-spring chill. Some carried shopping bags from nearby boutiques like ALD, Supreme, Kith, Sandy Liang, and Arc’teryx; a few sipped iced matcha lattes or ate Prince Street slices from a takeout cardboard box balanced on a stanchion post. Before long, Arber and Michael—two pals, both 18, who came into Manhattan from Brooklyn and Staten Island, respectively—finally made it to the front of the line. “We were just bored around the city,” said Michael, who’s in the market to buy something for his girlfriend. Arber’s just tagging along, though he might also buy something for himself, given that they’d already waited all this time. Henry, an analyst from Flushing, Queens, drove down here with his wife while he was still technically on the clock; he twiddled away on his laptop while standing in line. Inside, he hoped to pick up some sweatshirts.
The store opens at 11 a.m., and as of late, the line on a weekday afternoon can take between 30 and 45 minutes; on the weekends, when out-of-town visitors are rife and local kids are out of school, the wait runs twice as long. The store’s manager, Herman Pulphus, says they recently switched up their line operations to a new system—splitting the line into two parallel sections, offset by the stanchions—because the persistent around-the-corner queue was pissing off the cutesy Italian restaurant next door.