Non-Rich White Guy Clothes; 1-800-LAUNDRY

Canal Jean Co. 504 Broadway (betw. Spring & Broome Sts.), 226-1130. Recently I found myself at home in the morning without any clothes. Really, none: my two pairs of pants were in the wash and my available shirts were too faded or stained for a Wednesday at the office. Generally I'm dependent on women for clothes?women can take pity on me and bring me shopping?but this time I just put on some gym shorts and went to Canal Jeans.

As a non-rich white guy, I don't have many places to shop. I have J. Crew, Old Navy, the Gap, Banana Republic and Today's Man, which are all odious for their own reasons. Then there's the anti-mall store, the old standby Canal Jeans: simple, relatively cheap, with clothes I need and people to help me buy them. Canal Jeans is large yet navigable, plus it has no overarching brand name, so I don't walk out looking like I'm in uniform for Gap, Inc.

Since the store (there's only one; it hasn't been franchised yet) is dead in the middle of Soho, I couldn't drive there, but the F train got me close enough. I spotted the store's huge checkered flag, which somehow still stands out on the downtown Broadway strip. I walked through the doors, past the opening display ("Clothing for Rockstars," it said; I forget the brand), and up the escalator into the calming pants section.

Pants are wonderful. They come in three colors, and they have only two numbers to remember: length and width. Width comes first. I pulled a pair of khaki Elsecos off a rack (30x34, a tough size to locate) and tried them on. Satisfied, I slung them over my shoulder and strode to the male shirt section and explained my situation to the available Canal Jeans retail lady.

"Uh, I need a dress shirt to go with these pants."

"Okay, what kind of shirt?"

"You know, with buttons on it."

"Any particular color?"

"Yeah, whatever. You pick."

She led me deep into the shirts section and chose a green/blue plaid number.

"I don't really know what size I am," I confessed.

"You're a large," she said, and I beamed a bit because I'm no longer medium.

With the shirt and pants in hand, I ran down the escalator to the cashier. I plunked my wares in front of her.

"Hey, you think these go together?" I asked her as she rung me up.

"Oh yeah, they're nice. You picked these yourself?"

"Nah, I had the lady upstairs help me."

"Oh, I know. Short girl with the big mouth? I know her."

She hit the cash register. Exactly $88.

"Whoa, no tax?"

"Honey," she smacked her lips, "there's no tax on clothes anymore! Where you been? There hasn't been tax since 1999!"

"Wow, cool." I paid her exactly $88. She gave me my clothes plus a coupon for 10 percent off my next Canal Jeans purchase. This is maybe the best part of the Canal Jeans experience. They have no sales tax; they give you 10 percent off on your next purchase, so if you stay loyal you always get a little money back. Like the mob.

In and out in 15 minutes. I didn't look great at work but I didn't look scuzzy either. This is the ideal male shopping experience.

Ned Vizzini

Laundry Service

1-800-LAUNDRY www.1800laundry.com Since I had surgery, I've been more or less incapacitated and housebound. This had never happened to me before. When I came home from the hospital it took me the better part of an hour to climb the four flights of stairs to my apartment, and that was empty-handed.

I wasn't worried about starving to death; New York City takeout would see me through. A small mountain of menus had collected under my door while I was gone, and my credit card balance was healthy even if I wasn't. I did, however, face a different problem: What the hell was I going to do with my laundry? I couldn't ask my friends for help. They had already been too good to me, and the thought of them having to scrub my undies just made me feel bad. I couldn't carry anything up and down the stairs, so drop-off was a no-go. I turned on the tv, and inspiration came, as usual, in the form of a commercial.

1-800-LAUNDRY is probably the best damn buy in NYC. They offer free pickup and delivery of laundry, drycleaning and shirt laundry. It's $6.95 for the first six pounds, 65 cents for each additional pound (blankets, curtains and the like are extra) and guarantee delivery within 24 hours of pickup. They sort, bleach, wash, dry and fold. They even wrap like items together in plastic to keep them clean. I don't have to match my own socks anymore. There's no extra charge for stairs or starch, and I run a tab, which is billed to my credit card at the end of the month.

I realize the average Manhattanite already knows the wonders of sending out her laundry, but 1-800-LAUNDRY is a service above and beyond the drop-off laundromat. I'm only sorry it took three months in the hospital to free me from the hassle that is waiting for a dryer on a Saturday afternoon. As God is my witness, I will never hand-wash panties again.

Wendy Reynolds