When I went in here the other day to buy some soap I felt like I had entered no country for men at all. While slightly less awkward than entering Victoria's Secret, this place still has that vibe that testosterone is not welcome, even as the saleslady fawned all over me to insure I found the soap my wife wanted. When I walked out I kind of looked around surreptitiously the way I used to see the men in trench coats shuffling about on 9th Street NW when they'd be crawling out of the long extinct peep shows. Luckily, with soap in the bag, I could wash my hands of this place, and never enter its potpourric aisles again. read more