Le Drugstore

Borrowing the concept of the classic American drugstore the French transmogrified it into a near-erotic experience. Over the past dozen years, several versions of Le Drugstore have appeared in Paris: multimedia bazaars featuring bizarre decor, intimate bars, lavish food and smart boutiques. The phenomenon bore only a dreamlike resemblance to the drug supermarkets of, say, Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Now, by way of cultural reexport, not to say retaliation, the metamorphosed drugstore has returned to the U.S.

In Manhattan last week more than a thousand guests thronged to opening night at Le Drugstore, gaping at its chic decorations, examining the wares in its boutiques and sampling the wines and food in its three restaurants. They gulped champagne by the Jeroboam at the most popular attraction: a mahogany and ostrich-leather bar. 'That bar is soft and sensuous," explained soft and sensuous Caroline Solovei. 27, the wealthy beauty who is Le Drugstore's president. "It's just like everything else here. It sums up our total look."

Within Le Drugstore's maze of corridors and 14 shops, customers can purchase an infinite variety of far-out clothing--from wild lingerie to see-through shirts to sexy pants and fancy wigs. There are cigarettes from India and Japan and France, newspapers and magazines from Paris, Parisian cosmetics, chic boots, bags and belts. A delicatessen offers the usual fare--along with bouillabaisse, ris de veau and lobster en croute. The bookshop stocks current bestsellers, as well as a discreet selection of high-class pornography and perceptive sampling of the overseas and underground press.

Talk Show. In addition to the delicatessen, the three restaurants--a small mirror-lined hall with booths for twosomes, a large jungle-motif dining area with waiters and waitresses in safari suits, and a plushy retreat opposite the bar--offer a wide-ranging mixture of French and American food. There are hamburgers and hot dogs--and quiche Lorraine and hifsteck tartare as well: Moet et Chandon champagne and Coca-Cola are both on the menu. Empty seats are interdit. "We want Le Drugstore to be a meeting place,'' Caroline Solovei says, "and if there's space at a table, we'll shoehorn another couple--or a single--in. It's terribly easy to strike up a conversation.'' Caroline, who partially financed the venture with family funds, is an integral part of Le Drugstore's scene, providing still another attraction for customers.

The total ambience apparently stimulates the instinct to buy. George Stuart, who, with designer wife Lyn, operates the women's boutique, claims: "We've had to restock the shop four times a day every day so far." Other retailers are doing almost as well. For some customers, however, Manhattan's newest divertissement will never quite replace Rexalls or Walgreens. Because of a New York State law that prevents their sale in an establishment that serves alcohol, no drugs are available in Le Drugstore.

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