Since I’ve moved to Bushwick, everyone who visits makes it a point to disappear around the corner for a dip into Urban Jungle Vintage, returning completely different: sporting ironic neon green children’s sweatshirts, wearing all-black outfits without getting them washed first, carrying back garbage-bags of cowboy shirts. My roommate and I share laughs over this, but it’s become such a common and entertaining theme that nowadays, I just take my guests straight there. I watch them walk through the warehouse door into the cavernous fluorescent-lit room and set eyes on the racks and racks of clothing. Usually they will go straight to a rack and start flipping through just to make sure it’s real. Common exclamations include, “It’s not picked over!” “This is so overwhelming!” “Holy shit, I can’t believe I just found this!” and “This is so cheap.”

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