It can often be hard to create something that’s actually new, so a little over a year ago, when a small shop in the heart of SoHo opened its doors for the very first time, there was an overwhelming sense of excitement circling the birth of an establishment that truly seemed novel. The shop in question was called the Phluid Project and was widely advertised as the “world’s first gender-free store.” The name, according to founder Rob Smith, a longtime fashion retailer whose past clients include Levi’s and Victoria’s Secret, was a sly bit of wordplay: phluid to represent the fluidity of gender, written with a ‘PH’ to highlight the concept of balance, and project because the store, which doubles as a community space for a variety of queer-focused public events, was designed to be a permanent work in progress. Inside, you could find caftans from Travis Oestreich, sleek suiting from One DNA, and fashion-forward sunglasses from Planet I — all gender-neutral, of course — as well a special range of items from the store’s own namesake line. For those of us who already have too many clothes, Phluid also offered various novelty items, like art books and candles from the queer-owned brand Boy Smells.
The Phluid Project’s trans flag kilt
At the time, its arrival seemed almost kismet, coming right as “genderless” fashion began to sweep the industry. Just months before Phluid’s opening, the CFDA added a “unisex/nonbinary” category to their New York Fashion Week calendar, making it easier for buzzy brands like Eckhaus Latta, Telfar, and Vaquera to find their target audience (which, for the record, is everyone). Several months later, the idea had even managed to permeate the middle market, with huge retailers like Aeropostale and Abercrombie & Fitch dropping their own gender-neutral collections. (Unsurprisingly, some of their offerings gave a few people pause.)
Yet, even with the recent uptick in gender-neutral fashion, the actual clothing that resulted often ended up in gendered shopping sections anyway, somewhat nullifying the entire purpose. The creation of a space that completely eliminated those dividing lines felt like the perfect solution. At Phluid, there would be no more fear about browsing in the “wrong” section, no risk of dysphoric shopping experiences. In that sense, it’s not surprising that the store quickly caught on, becoming a popular queer community hub in New York that just so happened to also offer a unique approach to shopping.
