3 /5 Curt: Three stars, but only because I’m still standing.
Walked in with my wife expecting to do what any self-respecting partner does in a women’s boutique: find the man chair, plant myself, and become one with my phone until she emerges victorious. Instead? Nothing. Not a stool. Not a ledge. Not even a decorative ottoman I could pretend was ironic. Just racks of clothes, soft lighting, and the faint smell of eucalyptus and financial ruin.
Don’t get me wrong—the clothes? Gorgeous. She looked fantastic. I just looked lost. The staff was lovely, but they watched me the way you’d watch someone loitering in a museum gift shop with no intention of buying a magnet.
In short: great store for her. For me? Next time I’m bringing a folding chair and a granola bar.