On our way uptown this evening I spotted Big Spoon Yogurt, a fro-yo establishment recently installed in the plot formerly occupied by the genius-ly (you heard me) titled Art of Party. Pretty dead inside Big Spoon from what I could tell, though perhaps that’s mainly just because nobody had access to a time machine to go back to 1989 to eat frozen yogurt.
The Sac Rag 
Well, everything old is new again (as evidenced by some of the fashions I’ve seen sported by today’s youth), so maybe fro-yo will experience a resurgence in popularity. Don’t think my college roommate and I didn’t have Yogurt Park’s daily flavor hotline programmed into the speed dial of our lucite phone with the neon light on the inside.
Twenty years from now, we’ll likely “pity the po’ fool” who opens a new smoothie or coffee joint, and granite kitchen countertops are going to be “like, soooo ’05.”
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Oh my gosh I’m so excited. It has been noted that I’m the only person who still like frozen yogurt, and I’m pretty sure I’m keeping TCBY in business, both at the airport and over by Old Navy on Howe Ave. If anyone needs me I’ll be the only one sitting over at the Big Spoon Yogurt tonight. And NO, I do not to jazzercise. Or even Curves.
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Is something from 1989 considered vintage, retro, or a throwback?
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it’s a vintroback.
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