For weeks now, I've passed by on classic little Donuts Coffee Shop on Fifth Avenue in Park Slope, eyed its closed shutter and wondered. Was it the end of the line for the timeworn Coca-Cola sign and the long, narrow shotgun counter?
I lied to myself that all was well. The place had always kept odd hours, hadn't it? And if it had lasted this long, it would surely persevere, right?
Sorry, Charlie. The place will bite the dust on Friday. No ravenous developer is to blame. No condo tower will go up. It's just that the Associated supermarket next door is hungry for space, and will gobble up the miniature storefront.
Twelve red circular stools has the Greek diner. The donuts racks behind the counter are classics of utility. Bottles of ketchup, bottles of mustard, shakers of sugar. Amazingly low prices, posted on signs up high behind the counter.
The sign just says "Donuts Coffee Shop." I have to think the owners just wanted to advertise that they sold donuts in their coffee shop. But everyone now assumed the place is actually called Donut Coffee Shop. (Thanks for Brooklynometry for the picture.) The building's been there more than one hundred years, and for most of that time its been a bakery of some sort. But, apparently it was a movie house sometime in the 1920s, according to the Department of Building.
Will anyone save the sign? This sort of signage is not long for the word. An example of its kind leaves our world every day.