A New Park Slope Boutique; Spray Candy

Madoran 449 7th Ave. (betw. 15th & 16th Sts.), Brooklyn, 718-768-4935 A few weeks ago the crotch gave out on my favorite pair of Levi's, which, due to the fact that my body doesn't seem to be metabolizing beer as efficiently as it did a few years ago, was also the only pair of Levi's I owned that still fit. Now, I don't ask for much in this world, but outside of a few months in junior high when Prince had us cutting the ass out of Vanderbilts, I like a good crotch in my pants. I'm old-fashioned that way. At first I just tried to ignore the problem and throw some shit I found at the bottom of my closet back into rotation, but it didn't take long to remember the reason those tight black pants were sent into early retirement?they were headed for camel toe country (a land Debbie Harry unwittingly emigrated to in the mid-90s).

This all went down on a Friday afternoon, and that evening I had an event to attend that simply demanded a crotch. I was working at home in Park Slope that day and wasn't about to miss Julia and Jacques to ride into the city so some fuck on Prince St. could charge me $90 for a crotch worth half that amount. Instead, I did something I couldn't have done even a few months ago. I decided to go shopping in the neighborhood.

Gentrification can be a wonderful, wonderful thing, especially when it means boutiques like The Bird and Madoran opening up south of 9th St. on 7th Ave. Madoran, the most recent addition, caters more to the indigenous Puerto Rican girl next door than its across-the-street sister The Bird, which can err on the side of humoring the neighborhood's I'm-thin-white-upper-middle-class-and-probably-the-worst-lay-you'll-ever-have transplants. That said, I've found that patronizing both at least every couple of weeks covers one's bets nicely.

For example, that same Friday I bought a purple tanktop with matching belt at The Bird for $28, and an orange/brown patterned skirt at Madoran for $66 moments later. And no, of course I didn't wear them at the same time! I couldn't, because I needed a large (see first paragraph) in the skirt, and Madoran only had mediums in stock. That didn't stop the owner from going home, making a large and calling me a few days later to let me know it was at the store waiting (you won't get that kind of TLC from Warehouse).

Now all we need is a decent shoe store and I can gain enough weight to become permanently homebound. I guess it's the Southern girl in me looking for a one-stop store like Wal-Mart, where you can purchase a handgun and check your bridal registry all under the same roof. As a friend's mom used to always tell us, "If Taco Bell served tequila, I'd never leave!"

Tanya Richardson

Spray Candy

Available at Kidding Around 68 Bleecker St. (betw. B'way & Lafayette St.), 598-0228 Do I get points for this? I think I've recognized a cute, brightly colored, miniaturized trend before the Asians girls have. It's so simple and portable, it has to work: spray candy.

This isn't a hard concept. Just imagine Binaca breath spray with Pixie Stik flavor: grape, orange, blue strawberry, all the standard suspects from the Freeze Pop box. A 2-inch tube will run you $1.89: buy it, pop it open, press the nozzle and give yourself disorienting blasts of fabricated sweetness, ad nauseam.

While you spray, you can check out the candy's hilarious packaging. There are instructions ("Spray directly into mouth. Caution: Avoid spraying into eyes") and an expiration date ("4/30/02"). The ingredients list reads almost like soda?until you get to the "acesulfame K." And there's a helpful reminder for those watching their weight: "0 Calories."

I called Pavalor MDSE, Inc., the company that makes spray candy, to try to figure out where it comes from, who invented it and so on (I'm pretty sure it has something to do with Japan). I got put through to a taped message about "Dr. Chan's Herbal Liquid Energizer Drink" ("?contains a powerful blend of special herbs which have been formulated to give you energy!").

The whole spray candy business is definitely strange. But strangest of all is the dependency you'll develop after a week on the product. You might think it a bit disgusting at first, but one morning you'll find yourself sitting in an office with no fruity taste in your mouth, and you'll quickly administer five or six shots of concentrated flavor. Two bucks may seem like a lot for a tube of spray candy, but it'll fix you for a week. Have fun.

Ned Vizzini