My Luscious Godiva Memories
When I recently learned that Godiva Chocolatier is closing its North American shops by the end of March, it was a bittersweet moment for me. Bitter, because nearly 43 years have slipped by since I’d worked in their New York flagship store. Sweet, because it was one of my favorite jobs.
In late fall 1978, I was hired to sell truffles, pralines, caramels and ganaches in their chic boutique that adjoined the St. Regis Hotel. Thanks to the subway, getting from 35 Fifth Avenue in Greenwich Village, where I was dorming, to 55th Street and Fifth Avenue, where the cocoa oasis was located, was easy. And straddling those two different worlds was thrilling.
At the time, I was new to the city. I’d just transferred from a New Jersey state college to New York University, where I’d begun my junior year as a marketing student. Looking for flexible part-time work, I happened upon the Godiva holiday sales position on the bulletin board of NYU’s off-campus employment office. For a young chocoholic like me, the job sounded simply irresistible.
And it was. Selling gourmet bonbons to a sophisticated, monied clientele from the worlds of business, fashion, entertainment and the arts, was unbelievably glamorous to this 20-year-old gay man from South Jersey.
Never before had I encountered such a dazzling group of elegantly-dressed women in full-length fur coats, and dashing gentlemen in expensive designer overcoats, taking their sweet old time, selecting their confections before paying an extravagant $9.50 for a one pound ballotin. Where I came from, a similarly-sized box of Whitman’s Samplers or Russell Stover’s candies cost $3.00 at most at our local drugstore.
Lucky for me, I didn’t have to spend a cent to sample Godiva’s divine offerings. Beforehand, I had never tasted such sublime chocolates. We employees were not encouraged to sample the merchandise, but weren’t scolded either. At least I wasn’t. Throughout my shifts, I’d slip many a Milk Chocolate Hazelnut Oyster or Milk Lion of Belgium butterscotch caramel into my mouth on the sly, without ever gaining an ounce. Ah, those fabulous days are long gone!
During my seven-month stint behind the candy counter, I also learned a great deal about brand image and imagery. While Godiva touted its Belgium roots throughout the store and on its gold embossed packaging and shopping totes, its chocolates were actually made in Reading, Pa., not Brussels. And while all the candies were Mm! Mm! Good!, I was stunned to learn that Campbell’s Soup owned the brand at the time.
In 1978, Godiva sold its chocolates exclusively at its Fifth Avenue location plus select department stores throughout the country — not inside Barnes and Noble bookstores or suburban shopping malls, and definitely not at Dollar Tree, Walmart or Costco, where they’re now available.
Long after I left Godiva, I’ve continued to buy their candies for my family and friends on special occasions, but not at the Fifth Avenue location. That lovely store closed many years ago and was replaced with a series of other boutiques. Fortunately, there were other options, because new Godiva shops began popping up all over Manhattan, outside the city limits and throughout America.
A lot has changed for me in 43 years. Today, at age 62, I no longer find full-length furs to be glamorous. I no longer find expensive brands impressive because of their price. And I no longer need to leave my apartment to buy pralines.
Sadly, I’ll never have the pleasure to set foot inside a Godiva store again. The good news, of course, is that the brand will live on online, and hopefully their chocolates will remain extraordinary.
My luscious, late 1970’s memories in Godiva-land certainly will.
