Labor, for its part, hopes to resist that movement. It is appealingly ratty, but not without a sense of order. All of the skaters I saw were asked to leave their boards by the front door, from the bratty teenagers who had been killing time outside to the SoHo dads hunting for a taste of their teenage years. The store is cramped — clothes hang two racks high on the right, and under an island in the middle. Boards are on the left, shoes on the back wall. This is not a place for browsing. I watched a tourist try on sneakers that were on sale, prodded on by his wife and glared at dismissively by the store’s workers.

The store carries skate basics from Vans, Nike SB and Thrasher, including a hoodie with a hilarious menorah-theme riff on the classic logo ($75), but also clothing from forward-thinking skate brands, like Bronze 56K, Quartersnacks, Civilist and Dime, as well as from local pseudo-pirate-radio-cum-streetwear line Know-Wave (though Dover Street Market sells the more artistically-minded ones).

Though the store itself is small, its square footage really includes the outside steps and the sidewalk and the street, where on most days you can see skaters hovering around, making the scene by not making a scene. Labor serves as a social space in a way that Supreme can’t always these days, with its glut of tourists and long lines of teenagers and resellers on release days.