by Chloé Harris
Say what you will about the wicked evil of big-box stores in downtown SF. If Target were open at the Metreon, we could trot over there on our gloriously glossy, eco-friendly Marni platforms (a recent score from Jeremy’s) rather than pollute our way to the stoplight at I-280 and Serramonte Boulevard where suburbanites will blow a gasket, traffic will stand still and all general hell will break loose while we straddle two lanes and seriously ponder that age-old question: Serramonte Target to the right? Or Colma Target across the street?
We don’t know why this forsaken, fanny pack part of town boasts dual Targets. And unless you jones for cheap prescription drugs (Colma), it makes no difference which neighborhood Target you frequent. Unless, of course, you lust for Target’s latest designer collab, in this case Jean Paul Gaultier. To snag the best of the collection, you’ll need to roll up your sleeves and press on your sharpest nails because fighting the little old Asian ladies combing the racks at both stores might just get ugly.
Just days after Monsieur Gaultier arrived to an all-American welcome—used-car lot flags flapping in the fog and the aroma of Serramonte Target’s in-store Pizza Hut—the "collection" looked more like a fragmented nightmare than a French design lover’s dream. Whispers of monsieur’s legendary style showed themselves in chic Breton stripes; funky tattoo prints (the leggings are sold out); and Ms.-meets-Madonna suiting that includes a cheeky pleated miniskirt and a bustier shirtdress both in black-and-white pinstripes.