Yesterday, at the urging of a (former) friend, I stopped by the Hollister store at Houston and Broadway. In case you're not familiar with the beachfront catacombs Hollister store at Houston and Broadway, here's a review from the New York Times:

We were losing it. We needed to get out of there before we were trapped in this psychic brothel forever. I clutched onto him, and we battled our way past all the beautiful faces. Like sirens they beckoned for us to stop and transfer our lust into $600 worth of distressed denims and “casual luxury” tees. Stop being so pretty around me, I wanted to scream.

Somehow we made it out into the daylight, and we returned to our normal, mundane, slightly uglier lives. Or perhaps we are still there, wandering aimlessly through Hollister, and this is just another room?

And here's New York Magazine. And here's this.

And here's the list of alternative names for the Hollister store that I came up with while staggering through the airless rat warren known as the Hollister store!

Humannequin Gulag
Mines of Moria
Manwhore Thunderdome
Satan's Four-Story Walk-Up Vagina
Jack-Johnson-Scented Abu Ghraib Franchise
Jimmy Buffett's Date Rape Jamboree
Pappy Blacklung's Fleece-Lined Assisted Suicide Emporium
The Tenement Museum
Shangri-Brah
Arkham Asylum
The Somme

Score:
Everywhere else in the world that doesn't have this Hollister store - 10
New York - 0