Having lived in both New York and Los Angeles, Aaron Hunter was no stranger to the joys of shopping. Huge cities offered pretty much anything that money could buy, often without really needing to seek it out. From rainbow-coloured bootlaces to diamond rings that cost the same money as a small Central African country’s national debt, it was all there. Giant shopping malls filled with every chain store under the sun were liberally scattered throughout each district. Retail parks where burly men could buy building and gardening materials sat adjacent to boutique stores frequented by sophisticated ladies aiming to purchase $1,000 high heels.
The key word was “easy”. Put everything underneath one roof so that the consumer was spoiled for choice, and could easily drown in a sea of credit card convenience. Give the shoppers what they need; put it on the shelves to sell and they will buy.
Aaron thought that there was something a little soulless about the massive shops filled with a buyer’s buffet. The likes of Macy’s and Bloomingdale’s served a purpose, but they effectively catered for the masses, those people who didn’t have time to wander around the backstreets and discover small independent retailers dealing in niche products. Society seemed to be starved of time; every second was apparently so precious that items had to be handed over to the consumer instantly on a silver platter. The average person on the street no longer had neither the time nor the energy to go hunting for that perfect gift. They needed someone else to do it for them. If they wanted something, they wanted it now, with the minimum amount of effort.
Aaron did have the time. He made time. He made time to explore the dark corners of a city centre, the market stalls hidden in urban hideaways; the shabby shops frequented by patrons in the know who gladly kept their secret stores to themselves. You won’t find gold unless you sift through the murky waters, or dig below the surface.
It was in a dingy record store in the suburbs of LA that Aaron first met Gareth Jones, the rocker who ultimately widened the spectrum of Aaron’s musical taste. Gareth, a bass player, introduced Aaron to many obscure punk bands from the 1970’s, as well as several groups caught up in the New Wave of British Heavy Metal movement. He even threw in a few raw outfits from the Bay Area thrash scene for good measure. The chance meeting would eventually lead to the two young musicians starting up their own band, Red Light Zone. But was it really a stroke of luck that the pair had bumped into each other?
The thing about heading away from the mainstream well-trodden roads that lead to the same old establishments is that there is always a great opportunity to cross paths with other freethinking, like-minded characters. People with a different, unusual story to tell would often be found hanging out in a privately owned coffee shop, rather than Starbucks. They’d be reading a novel that nobody else had ever heard of, while listening to the latest up and coming band that had yet to break out from the underground scene. These people were… interesting.
One such hot spot of individuality in Harper Rock was a quirky little bookstore that Aaron had discovered late one evening. Drumming was Aaron’s primary hobby, but he had always harboured a soft spot for photography, and loved anything related to anime and graphic novels. If he had a dollar for each time he’d corrected people who dismissed graphic novels as comics, the aficionado would be a very rich man! Aaron would regularly browse the shelves of the dusty shop, hoping to find an obscure copy of something Manga-related, or a glossy hardback containing artistic pictures. He’d even bought a few incredibly informative books on Aztec culture to help him try and understand the heritage of his adoptive vampiric family. There was always something new to discover.
As Aaron pushed open the door to the bookstore, the little overhead bell ringing to announce the arrival of a potential customer, he wondered what treasures he may uncover. The budding tutor had just finished a hard day’s work at his drumming school, Skin Trade, and fancied rummaging through the shelves in the hope that something he’d previously missed would leap out at him like a salmon trying to swim upstream to breed.
He casually nodded his head in the direction of the elderly gentleman who was sitting on a stool behind the counter, in a gesture of mild recognition. The turnover of staff was relatively high in this particular shop, not least because Aaron had an appetite for things other than reading material. Word nourishment was often not the only thing on his agenda.
Running a hand through his dark hair to move a few lose strands away from his hazel eyes, Aaron made his way towards the history area. He quite fancied thumbing his way through the pages of something on the subject of Japanese warfare. What wasn’t to like about samurai warriors and katanas?
The key word was “easy”. Put everything underneath one roof so that the consumer was spoiled for choice, and could easily drown in a sea of credit card convenience. Give the shoppers what they need; put it on the shelves to sell and they will buy.
Aaron thought that there was something a little soulless about the massive shops filled with a buyer’s buffet. The likes of Macy’s and Bloomingdale’s served a purpose, but they effectively catered for the masses, those people who didn’t have time to wander around the backstreets and discover small independent retailers dealing in niche products. Society seemed to be starved of time; every second was apparently so precious that items had to be handed over to the consumer instantly on a silver platter. The average person on the street no longer had neither the time nor the energy to go hunting for that perfect gift. They needed someone else to do it for them. If they wanted something, they wanted it now, with the minimum amount of effort.
Aaron did have the time. He made time. He made time to explore the dark corners of a city centre, the market stalls hidden in urban hideaways; the shabby shops frequented by patrons in the know who gladly kept their secret stores to themselves. You won’t find gold unless you sift through the murky waters, or dig below the surface.
It was in a dingy record store in the suburbs of LA that Aaron first met Gareth Jones, the rocker who ultimately widened the spectrum of Aaron’s musical taste. Gareth, a bass player, introduced Aaron to many obscure punk bands from the 1970’s, as well as several groups caught up in the New Wave of British Heavy Metal movement. He even threw in a few raw outfits from the Bay Area thrash scene for good measure. The chance meeting would eventually lead to the two young musicians starting up their own band, Red Light Zone. But was it really a stroke of luck that the pair had bumped into each other?
The thing about heading away from the mainstream well-trodden roads that lead to the same old establishments is that there is always a great opportunity to cross paths with other freethinking, like-minded characters. People with a different, unusual story to tell would often be found hanging out in a privately owned coffee shop, rather than Starbucks. They’d be reading a novel that nobody else had ever heard of, while listening to the latest up and coming band that had yet to break out from the underground scene. These people were… interesting.
One such hot spot of individuality in Harper Rock was a quirky little bookstore that Aaron had discovered late one evening. Drumming was Aaron’s primary hobby, but he had always harboured a soft spot for photography, and loved anything related to anime and graphic novels. If he had a dollar for each time he’d corrected people who dismissed graphic novels as comics, the aficionado would be a very rich man! Aaron would regularly browse the shelves of the dusty shop, hoping to find an obscure copy of something Manga-related, or a glossy hardback containing artistic pictures. He’d even bought a few incredibly informative books on Aztec culture to help him try and understand the heritage of his adoptive vampiric family. There was always something new to discover.
As Aaron pushed open the door to the bookstore, the little overhead bell ringing to announce the arrival of a potential customer, he wondered what treasures he may uncover. The budding tutor had just finished a hard day’s work at his drumming school, Skin Trade, and fancied rummaging through the shelves in the hope that something he’d previously missed would leap out at him like a salmon trying to swim upstream to breed.
He casually nodded his head in the direction of the elderly gentleman who was sitting on a stool behind the counter, in a gesture of mild recognition. The turnover of staff was relatively high in this particular shop, not least because Aaron had an appetite for things other than reading material. Word nourishment was often not the only thing on his agenda.
Running a hand through his dark hair to move a few lose strands away from his hazel eyes, Aaron made his way towards the history area. He quite fancied thumbing his way through the pages of something on the subject of Japanese warfare. What wasn’t to like about samurai warriors and katanas?
