Martina Devlin: Jaded Clerys needs to revive era of mystique
OVERCOME with nostalgia, I took a stroll round Clerys, intending to soak in the atmosphere one last time before a US private equity firm did whatever it was they planned to do to the grand old lady of O'Connell Street.
But sentiment soon paled in the face of reality, and the best part of the experience coincided with leaving the department store. An elderly gentleman in a hat, a little frail and stooped but impeccably turned out, was halfway through the door as I approached it.
Immediately, he stopped and held it open for me. Did he bow slightly, or did I imagine that part of the encounter? Anyhow, when I attempted to hold the door in turn for him, so he could finish entering the shop, he warned it was too heavy for me and insisted on grappling with it alone.