One of my favorite Chicago discoveries is Reckless Records—largely because of its proximity to Myopic Books, my heaven on earth, but also because of the fantastic fact that you can purchase half a dozen or more used CDs of good quality there and not spend more than 40 bucks. Thank God for Reckless Records: I can now again shake my bon bon to the Soul Coughing album I lost in high school, turn into my mother by cleaning the house while jamming out to the Eurythmics, and most importantly, complete my Van Morrison collection, all at approximately $4.99 a pop.
But…what in the eff is up with the overpowering smell of BO that penetrates the store? My boyfriend and I, prior to entering the store, look at each other, take a deep breath, then see how long we can dig through CDs without breathing. The smell. Is. Awful. I get that to be a real hipster who belongs in such a hip, hip store, for some reason you are supposed to look like you’ve just rolled out of bed and put on clothes from a different era, including super tight low rider pants that will inevitably give you ass cleavage, but why, why, why can’t you put on some deodorant first?
Then again, maybe I shouldn’t blame the cool patrons of Reckless, and just blame the store itself. I swear the stench is coming out of the walls. I just hope it didn’t penetrate to all of my awesome new music.
And one last beef: Umm, where are your female employees? Are they hiding in the back where it doesn’t smell so bad?
Annie and Aretha would not approve. And yes, this little gem is on my “new” Eurythmics album.