March 22nd
2009
10:15 PM
Posted by:
Brian Collins

I just made my final visit to the Virgin Megastore. It closes next week.
A clerk was stacking the remaining books on the floor. I told him I would miss the place. He turned to me and said “yeah…too bad no one really cared about it anymore.”
But I did. In fact, millions did. For over a decade it was a reliable and explosive experience: albums, books, CDs, magazines, DVDs, comics, a coffee shop, gaming systems, action figures, toys, movie theaters, apparel – and a DJ spinning the day’s beats on three cavernous floors that went on forever. For New Yorkers and visitors alike it was one of the most immersive and rewarding retail experiences in the city.
My old office was on 49th Street, so I would hit the place on my way home. Every week or so I’d check out the wall of headphones featuring Billboard’s Top Twenty. I usually walked away with one CD I didn’t even know about before I walked in. The place would be packed with tourist groups from Utah, Long Island high schoolers, college students on dates, couples after the theatre, actors, music junkies, film junkies, gamers – everybody.
The shift started about four years ago. Slowly, kids stopped showing up. Then the lines in front of the headphones slowly disappeared.
The slip was not reversible.
Music – and lots of it – was still selling. Just not here, anymore.
I kept going because I liked the big, crazy buzz of the place. Sure, I started downloading and streaming tons of music. But that experience is solitary, driven by convenience more than curiosity.
The Virgin store made the electric intensity of Times Square tangible. It brought that crackling energy inside so it could be heard, touched, read, worn, eaten, shared with friends and purchased. And it pulled in money. This store alone generated $55 million, with $6 million in profit, according to Reuters.
Change is good. I hope the new Forever 21 store that takes Virgin’s place will inspire similar enthusiasm.
Still, I will miss the experience at Virgin. I will miss all that I discovered there, the magazines I read ( but didn’t actually, uh…buy ) in the cafe and finding odd, unexpected recordings in the CD bins.
I will miss meeting my friend Eric at the last minute to go see A Beautiful Mind in the basement theatre.
I will miss the DVD manager who knew my taste in science fiction. In 2002 he waved the Japanese director Rintaro’s film Metropolis in my face. “You must!” So I did.
I will miss the kid who danced to Ludacris in silence under the headphones.
I will miss the woman in Jazz who grabbed my arm and said “this is what we used to listen to at Paradise Garage. This is music. It makes everybody dance. You will love it.” And I did.
As I left for the last time I walked under a sweeping yellow sales banner.
“EVERYTHING MUST GO” it said.
Change can be good. It’s the life blood that keeps a city alive.
But over the last decade this store changed me every time I walked in.
And that change I will miss most of all.











Nice post Brian.
I just went into the Virgin Megastore in San Francisco for the last time this afternoon in fact. Same “EVERYTHING MUST GO” banner. The third floor was full of fixtures and mannequins priced at $95. Most items in the store were 30% off. Unfortunately they were 30% off Virgin’s typically high retail price, which was one of its downfalls I think. They just couldn’t compete on price with Amazon nor downloads (legal or otherwise).
But I will miss the DJ spinning in the booth. The excitement of discovering new music at the headphone stations. And the sense of going somewhere that was dedicated to music. …Reminds me of my weekly trips to Tower Records in Fisherman’s Wharf. Ah, those were the days when music went beyond those white earbuds.
hello brian,
Having lived in China for couple of years now, I see change happen around me at a break neck speed. After reading what you wrote and thinking back on those things that have changed around us, I think some of them are more “lost” than “changed”. Purchasing a song/album online has changed the way we experience music, but the closing down of the Virgin Mega Store, forever a lost.
I understand totally.
Here in Orlando, VMS provided pretty much the only design book option for anything above and beyond the typical B&N or Borders fare. It was quite a haul from here (Downtown Orlando) to VMS (Disney property) – but one I took on regularly. The last few times it was disheartening because it became a shell of it’s former self, getting rid of a lot of the less mainstay items. So, I’m not even sure if it’s still there or not, for the general economy, I hope so.
But really it stopped becoming an option. So now, more than ever, when I fly back home to NYC to visit the folks, I allow for the extra baggage on the return!
Absolutely, Steve. Point taken.
Remember that the store was a decade-long, weekly ritual for me. It became my go-to temple for culture, music, film, even books. Everything was right at my fingertips. Tons of it. Instantly. Sure, I can go down to St. Mark’s Place to find a new graphic novel. I can spend time at Shakespeare & Co. to discover new books. And iTunes gives me new music and movies. Good.
Still, I’ll miss that store. And the great people who lived there. But I said goodbye for the last time night. Now? I’m hell bent to find new places to get my weekly music, movies and book fix.
It’s New York City. It won’t be that hard.
I agree.
Change is tough. Change is painful. Change is different. Change is… changing.
But as had been said before: “Death is very likely the single best invention of life. It is life’s change agent,” – maybe we can apply this very dramatic statement to this type of retail?
wow! definitely a nyc landmark… i’m shocked it’s gone.
this essay touched me. i loved your accounts of all of the different people you experienced in the store. i visited new york for the second time last week and would catch myself smiling, just walking down the street, in awe of all the different, crazy, interesting people i’d come across. it’s been over a week but i can’t stop thinking about my experience and aching to be back there.