Fit into a narrow storefront once occupied by a laundromat on the edge of Chinatown, the Sandy Liang Store draws from its local history and the designer’s deep ties to the surrounding community. She grew up there, her father has run a restaurant in the neighborhood since the 1970’s, and her grandmother lives down the block. To accentuate the community’s integral support, the store design specifically highlights the people – local construction workers who built the space – and the place – a bygone laundromat that improved many neighbors’ daily lives. For example, pink-patched walls are left in a transitional state revealing the spackle, paint primer, and pencil marks of the person who made them, traces of a construction process typically made invisible by coats of white paint. Meandering steel hanging rods nod to the kinetic clothing conveyors of the laundromat, while their playful forms simultaneously mirror the jungle gyms of nearby Seward Park. In many ways, the store is a stage set for the community. The long, narrow space is inscribed by a series of curved, metal-mesh curtains dividing the store into an enfilade of rooms. Each successive, porous layer acts as a backdrop where anyone who enters can perform. In all reality, shopping in the Lower East Side is always an act of performance. Beyond the role of “window-shopper,” the store hopes to be a valued and active member of the community. Within the store, local bakers are invited to sell their sourdough adjacent to shearling fleeces and book clubs gather underneath arched clothing rods. Despite the surreal quality of these scenes, it feels absolutely routine when considering this community is very much the designer’s own.