Seven Days at the Bin Store

Summary

This spring, a new business opened on the main drag of my West Philadelphia neighborhood, provoking both excitement and trepidation.“I saw it just the other day and feared it,” one friend texted. “Like what the actual fuck is that shit,” said another. “Why?!!!” said a third. “Who is that for?”Until last summer, the corner storefront at Baltimore Avenue and S. Melville Street was a moderately overpriced hipster vintage store. After it closed, it sat empty for nearly a year. Then, in March, it sprang to life. A “grand opening” banner went up over the door. A miniature wacky inflatable tube man flailed around outside. Posters with the logos for Walmart, Amazon, Costco, and Best Buy covered the windows, declaring “CRAZY DEALS, AMAZING BINZ.” I had to check it out.AMAZING BINZ is on the first floor of a rowhome, narrow and long. There’s one central aisle, and on either side, big wooden tray tables—the proverbial binz—overflowing with undifferentiated piles of consumer stuff: unopened Halloween costumes, an ice mold shaped like a penis, a banner of many glittery penises wearing grass skirts, a staggering number of “reusable hot and cold gel compression sleeve[s] for elbow,” a single loose pregnancy test, something called Wokaar for “waxing the nose beard.”At least half the products are still in boxes, and there are signs on the walls warning customers to NOT OPEN THE BOXES, so you have to scan the barcode with your phone or decipher clipped product descriptions: “module stool,” “gratitude journal,” “Xmas tea light green.” But the great innovation of Amazing Binz is its pricing structure, which is splashed across the facade in Spanish and English and makes good on the promise of CRAZY DEALS. On Fridays, when the bins are freshly stocked, everything costs $10. On Saturdays, $8. Sundays: $6. Mondays: $4. Tuesdays: $2. Wednesdays: $1. Thursday is bin store Sabbath, when the shop is closed and restocked. The store is like nothing else on the block, which boasts, among other th...