Meet Me at Dean & Deluca
let's people watch over coffee and buy niche, expensive groceries together
You busy this weekend? Why don’t we grab coffee at Dean & Deluca. I need a really specific kind of tomato for a Sunday dinner recipe that I think they’ll probably have there. We could do a little browse, laugh at the prices we secretly aspire to and then sit for a couple of cappuccinos and you can catch me up on how your first date with that guy went. Is the one on 560 Broadway good for you? Round the corner from Balthazar, yeah.
I’ll text you that I’m running a bit late because I missed the train that would’ve got me there on time. You probably won’t get my text because the service on the platform is unreliable. I hope you head in for a pre-browse preview while you wait. While I race down the street at my briskest pace in an effort to shave off a couple of minutes of lateness. I turn the corner and the green awnings hit me with a wave of reassurance. Turning over my left wrist to check my watch - I’m five minutes late. Not too bad.
You're at the dessert counter. The perfect start to our aspirational grocery shop. An activity I’m sure most contacts in my phone would find perplexing. But you get it. Does this count as a form of manifestation? Since we can’t all be David Bowie, filling our basket with a food shop here on a weekly basis.1 I find the tomatoes. I daren’t look at the price for fear of premature death by numerical shock. Is it weird to put tomatoes on your credit card? I’m being half serious, but we laugh anyway. You point out the strawberries known for their starring role in The Devil Wears Prada. The ones that start the scene with a disgruntled Nate and end with Andy revealing her upgraded lingerie. It can only be the power of a supposed ten dollar strawberry. Let’s hope the tons of Jarlsberg that Nate uses earlier in the film wasn’t also from Dean & Deluca because what a waste for that *very burnt* grilled cheese.2 I swear he’s meant to be a chef in that film. You interrupt my umpteenth monologue about the issues of le boyfriend in Meryl Streep’s magnus opus to point out a couple of free seats near the coffee counter. I take my credit card tomatoes from the basket that rests in the crook of my arm. I’ve become used to the weight of the metal resting on my right side that it saddens me to put it back in a pile as the promise of high quality pantry items leaves me. You meet my deflated energy with an offer to get the coffees. Next ones are on me.
A couple of weeks later we meet on our lunch breaks, coordinated at the same hour on a Thursday afternoon. Classical music seeps in and out of our conversation about the work day so far. A customer asked you for four pairs of the same shoe to assess the possible discrepancies in each version of the same size. She found a glob of fabric glue on one and proceeded to buy none of them. No commission for you. We roll our eyes, drinking from the navy cups of latte that I bought this time. We’re standing at the window, no empty seats in sight but perfect for a quick stop between retail customer nightmares. Steam rises from your soup and I wonder if my sandwich is the claimed favourite of Mr Bowie.3
We people watch between chatter. I love that woman’s jacket. I bet it’s vintage, or at least old, because of the way the leather has softened and sculpted to her shoulders. You comment on her blonde tresses tucked with messy intention under the jacket.4 Face-framing pieces fall in front of her eyes as she picks her bag off the floor. She tucks some behind her right ear before pushing open the door and stepping onto the sidewalk with a loud click of boot heel. We discuss whether the blonde is natural or just really well done. As we tidy up empty cups and containers, you mention your second date with that guy. You say the jury is still out on if he’s third date material. I suggest a day date to figure out if he fits into your real life routines. A little iced coffee, a little park stroll, some bread-throwing to the ducks. You text him. Casual & cool.
Back to the grounding halt of reality that comes with customer service and a flagship store. We part ways in opposite directions on the sidewalk.
“i hate all my clothes right now, what you going to wear?”
There are options of dress for a Dean & Deluca occasion. If it’s our Thursday afternoon lunch break we’re probably in work-appropriate outfits. Some level of uniform. And those around us are probably in the same as they escape their work bubble for sixty minutes of caffeine and putting hexes on hellish customers from the first half of the day. If they’re not provided by the workplace in brand colours, then it’ll be a dark trouser or jean, a white tee with absolutely no logo and some sort of black, navy or chocolate brown knit or jacket for warmth that is still acceptable in-store. The shoe is comfy, but classic. And probably leather because it has to last hours of standing and front-of-house greeting.
On a Sunday, there’s no rush. Things are slower. We pore over one cup of coffee each and might even split a croissant. So the outfit has to be crumb-friendly but without sacrificing the chic of the city. We might pick up a couple of fancy extras for dinner since we’re already here. Might as well. Sunglasses shield Saturday night eyes from the sun. A long coat is necessary for bringing together the possibly random selection of comfortable pieces like an old Gap zip-up hoodie and our softest denim blue jean. I love a grey hood peeking out and over a navy coat collar. Bonus Sunday pieces include a cap and a suede boot or a dad trainer on the feet. And don’t forget to bring a bag that is too small for shopping, leaving us with arms of groceries we weren’t expecting to buy. We’ll split a cab home later.
Let’s say it’s finally autumn (fall) and the season of You’ve Got Mail and Nora Ephron’s New York is well under way. This is peak layering time. My bag is full of the daily carryings. Think: books, a notebook and pen, tangled earphones, ten lip balms and hand salves. The list is endless and heavy on my shoulder. Colours are darker, warmer, richer. And the extra long coats are out. A trench is likely, due to forecasted rain. I like one with wide cuffs to cover my hands if it’s cold. The scarf, hat and gloves trio is back for the next six months. But sometimes the sunglasses are needed in case of a bright, chilly day. My favourite kind of weather. Whatever you wear, make sure it’s warm. And remember to shake off your umbrella before you walk in to pick up *totally necessary* root vegetables fresh from a “local” farm.
It’s mid-summer and the concrete is hot on the ground. Warm, rancid smells rise through the humid air. We’re stopping at Dean & Deluca to escape into the relief of air conditioning and refrigerated produce cold to the touch. It’s still a Tuesday in the city so work hasn’t been completely abandoned. We’re channelling NYC icon Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy’s understated summer chic with a baggy-ish deep blue denim and a flip flop. Any iteration of this formula will do. You may opt for a basic tee or an oversized men’s button-up shirt as I would. Or in a shockingly normal (but abnormal for her) Carrie Bradshaw moment, we maintain a sense of uniform in a black round neck short sleeve tee and a dark trouser or midi skirt to match. A city bag for hauling is a must. Whether short-handled and/or propped on the shoulder, just make sure you’ve got a spare hand to grab an iced beverage as you leave the fancy food shop and take on summer in the city.
If you made it this far, thank you for reading. This is a new style of post on my Substack, inspired by my previous one that seemed to connect to a lot of readers.
For context, this piece is built and romanticised from recounts and images of others who were lucky enough to experience Dean & Deluca before it closed in 2019. Thank you to those who continue to tell stories of it and have inspired me to buy the Dean & Deluca cookbook secondhand and write what is essentially a fictional memory.
If you liked this style of send (or didn’t) please let me know and hopefully I’ll see you soon for more of this kind of thing.
Not the entire point of the article but there is still a dean & deluca store in Kyoto - I imagine it licensed or bought the name but it is very on brand with what the NYC one was. When I found it I had a field day & bought so much random sh*t because I missed the OG so much.
Love this! D&D was one of my must sees when I first visited New York