Would-be superstore: Wal-Mart it ain't

JOHN YI/YH Excuse me, how do I get to the Yale Bookstore?

The ghostly, subtle decay that has characterized the Co-op since the end of last year is gone. Before, it looked like a generic store in a strip mall on its last legs. Now, it looks like a generic store in a nice, middle-aged, suburban mall. Some thoughts:

* The new Co-op has an expanded clothing section, split into three sections. The largest is (surprise!) all Yale gear. The second section is devoted to sportswear for men over the age of 50, and still another is devoted to sportswear for men over the age of 70. Somehow, the marketers decided to sell to a combination of current college consumers and all of the people who liked Yale better before co-education.

* Quick mental exercise. Close your eyes. Imagine the music selection at Wal-Mart. Now imagine it one-fifteenth of that size. Welcome to the new Co-op's music section. They have Matchbox 20. They have Citizen King. Umm... yeah.

* One of the nicer additions to the Co-op is a pseudo-grocery store dubbed "The Marketplace." Need to go to Krauszer's or Rite Aid, but don't have any cash? The Co-op card suddenly becomes magical, able to charge anything from salsa to dental floss to granola bars. There's also a fairly extensive selection of cards and magazines (there's no porn, however—I guess there are limitations to the Co-op card's magic after all).

* Despite the changes, the Co-op still refuses to recognize itself as part of Chapel Square Mall. At least now, the doors leading into the mall are made of glass (not wood, or metal, or whatever equally impermeable bulletproof material they were when the Co-op first opened in its current location). Still, the first floor passage is blocked by a big piece of red tape, the kind that they use to keep people from stepping too far into museum exhibits. And the second floor entrance is marked-up with a banner which states concisely and explicitly: "DO NOT ENTER."

* As all of the hippies on campus raise their hands to the sky and curse the introduction of corporate monsters like Starbucks and Blockbuster to Chapel Street, the issue of the Co-op's purity inevitably comes up.

But let's be reasonable. The Co-op is managed by a national chain. So what? Had the Daily Caffé been taken over by Starbucks, an angry boycott would have been the proper response. However, it's not like the Co-op ever had any sort of anti-establishment character (at least not since this generation of undergrads has been at Yale). Being owned by a mega-corp that understands the principles of marketing (if only vaguely) has made the painfully dull and empty Co-op much more shoppable, albeit just as dull. Even if the new management's belief that blurry pictures of happy interracial couples pasted all over the walls of the store will move merchandise is doornail dumb, it's encouraging to see the Co-op stock more of the products that students actually need—things like floppy disks, which last year were deemed far too exotic to carry. Furthermore, its chain status has spared us all from the painfully nonsensical and ill-informed advertising campaign of a few years ago that tried (and failed) to combine the Lenin, denim, and other random items into a formula to lure chain-store objectors back to the Co-op. Be thankful for small favors.

So, the picked-over, deserted feel of the place is gone. It's an improvement, for sure. There may be nothing life-changing about the new Co-op, but if you don't feel like paying cash, there's no better place to be.

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