It’s getting to the point where when I walk past all the abandoned storefronts strafing New York City, I begin to imagine all the other things they could be used for. Impromptu raves or hardcore shows. Floor-to-ceiling floral displays. Short-run theaters for one or two-person plays. Housing for the unhoused.

The idea that they might someday again be stores is beginning to feel fanciful. There is perpetual tension between, on the one side, soaring rents and the increasingly clichéd and untrue notion of New York as a moneyed town and, on the other, the cold realities that living here, creating here and shopping here are less tenable than ever.

Forgive the mangled Jane Jacobs, but storefront shopping thrives when there is an active sense of civic engagement, and it is a crucial feeder of that energy. Without stores, you’ll just stay home, scroll through memes, buy a toothbrush off Instagram, and lie about how happy you are that you don’t get enough sunshine.