With all due respect to reviewers dropping less than two stars and hurling insults...what the hell?
Just read the "About Us" section of the website and you will find a simple, humble goal behind those who started this apparel, accessories, surf, and coffee shop in '09. After enjoying the space, service, and hot bevs here many times, I can honestly say that no one here's pretending to be a coffee Mecca for gourmands or an equipment provider for Kelly Slater before he charges Teahupo'o, so I'm not sure what all the hating is about.
Saturdays is probably - or certainly - the only place in the city (especially Manhattan) that actually manages to pull off the marriage of the materialistic, cutting edge, caffeinated NYC mentality and the more mellow, naturalistic surfer lifestyle.
Not self-promoting whatsoever, the airy, quiet space on a cobbled block of Crosby St. simply exists, capturing and exuding what a Saturday morning would be if we weren't all trapped in the concrete jungle.
It's hard to tell what time the business actually opens, because if the door is open and the coffee's up, they're open. I like that, because it means that sometimes I can mosey in here at 9:15 am and just ask for one of their giant lattes.
Actually, the first few times I visited, I merely accompanied a friend who wanted an Earl Grey, used the back as a seating area for a meeting without purchasing anything whatsoever, and handled the merchandise at will, never intending to buy anything. Many times, I've dilly dallied here on my way to or from my office, picking up pucks of Sex Wax and fancy scented candles and sniffing them, squirting lotion out of testers, and using the clean and sunny salvaged-wood bathroom (before business hours, might I add).
No one ever bothered or neglected me for being obnoxious and loafing around. No one ever acted snotty or neglected to serve me (the place is too small for the staff to slack off). If anything, the baristas gave me what I needed and made pleasant conversation about delightfully random things besides.
Though the merchandise is expensive because the business model is based around an upscale image, the goods are at least interesting. One of these days, I will probably purchase - and not regret purchasing - a picture book of the world's waves or an 8-dollar chocolate bar studded with Maine sea salt or a translucent blue puck of glycerine soap whose scent was inspired by the Atlantic or a giant candle with an unprecedented combo of fragrances or even a lanyard and brass bracelet made by a local artisan. It's that or spend the equivalent all over the city on total shit interchangeable with other shit being peddled everywhere else.
Probably wouldn't get a $650 wetsuit from patagonia or a $1200 funboard that looks like it should be mounted on a wall rather than be finned up, but it's cool to know that they do sell functional surfboards and gear here, which realistically does qualify it as one of very few real surf shop options within city limits. If you're looking for used boards or a full range of wetsuit prices, you'd have to take yourself down to NC or out to the Hawaiian Islands, and that's a fact.
Finally, had I read any of the reviews here that use the word "hipster" whether in a derogatory or factual tone before coming here, I would never have set foot in Saturdays. In case it isn't obvious, I abhor hipsters, which leads me to confirm that the hipster quotient here is LOW in terms of the rest of New York, which in itself is one big breeding ground for hipsters. Hipsters seem to like filth and hypocrisy, neither of which condition exists at Saturdays.
The predominant demographic here , if there really is one, is that of the mellow, quiet, potentially well-off, racially diverse, and definitely good-looking male aged 30 to 40. Naturally, this rare gathering of more-than-decent company only increases my enjoyment of the ambience whether or not it affects me directly.
Any woman walking in here can expect to be talked to or even hit on (not in an untoward way) by some handsome and benevolent dude, whether he's surfery, artsy, or more straight laced. Any guy walking in here can expect to be left alone or have light conversation if he so wishes. Pair that with a handmade open-top cup full of La Colombe and whole milk froth, and there's no problem, man. read more