Anna Chamberlin

Group W Bench, which fashions itself as “the oldest running head shop on the planet,” is an unmistakable sight along Chapel Street –– so unmistakable that it stopped me in my tracks while I rushed from SigChi to High Street one hazy Friday night. 

I tried making sense of what was going on in this curious establishment, but my friends were now far ahead of me, and so I promised myself to see what lies beyond the harem pants and crystal piggy banks of the storefront some other day. 

Learning that the store will be up for sale soon, I recently decided to check it out after finishing class. The sky was not hazy, and neither was my state of mind, so I thought I would be able to find a birthday gift for a friend that afternoon. 

Entering the store, I felt like I was transported into a hippie outpost from the Haight-Ashbury district in the Sixties. Relics like Grateful Dead merchandise and “Make Love, Not War” postcards sustained the illusion of a countercultural time capsule. This was only punctuated by more contemporary offerings like a glossy print of Aunt Sandy’s Medical Marijuana cookbook and a ‘moveable and poseable’ Jesus of Nazareth action figure. 

This seemed to be the perfect place to get a gift, and a terrible place for a bad trip.

Though it only takes up two lots, Group W Bench has the material expanse of a Baroque cathedral. However, in addition to finding marbled saints and wooden crosses, which the store does offer in many varieties, you will also find paraphernalia from other beliefs — Mexican calaveras, Hindu dancing Shiva statues and Tibetan Buddhist thangka paintings. Everything you can imagine, along with the things you can’t, live here. 

I was drawn to the small keepsake boxes near the backroom, where the owner Raffael came in and out of every few minutes. He seemed to be busy stocking up the vintage postcard racks. So I turned to the woman at the counter, Amy, for some questions about the boxes and the store. 

“Yes, they’re all handcrafted,” Amy answered while opening up the wooden boxes, showing me what they look like inside.

I revealed my admiration for the store’s expansive collection, and to that, Amy told me that the store had been around since 1968. The store moved to its current location on Chapel Street soon after its establishment and remains the only one of its kind in New Haven to this day. I had been to many stores like this in New York’s East Village, but none of them could boast a collection as eclectic as this. 

“I can tell you that we have been here longer than many of [the stores in the East Village]. Many of the things you see here are from Raffael’s personal collection. He was really into African masks for a while, and he got into the Buddhas you can see there,” Amy told me, pointing to a row of Buddha figures on a cabinet. . 

The store seems to cater to some common needs in uncommon ways. Got a midterm tomorrow that you need to pass? Get some crystals near the counter to manifest the Fail away. Need stationeries? Get Jumbo pencils and nose-shaped sharpeners here. Broke your last weed pipe? Choose from the many on display at the counter. It is the oldest running head shop on the planet after all.

Everyone who came in seemed to find something that they wanted. Everyone but me. There was simply too much to see, let alone choose from. Every couple of seconds, I would find another Frida Kahlo piece on the wall or Balinese mask tucked in between reclining Buddhas. I went back to Amy in resignation and admitted that I could not decide on what to get. 

“A lot of customers get overwhelmed when they come here for the first time,” Amy assured me. “Take your time, I’ll be here if you have any questions.” 

I have to admit that I was quite intimidated by some of the signs found in the store at first. Around the shop displayed “No Photos” and “No Cellphones” stickers, a “Go f–k your #selfie” sign on an antique mirror, and another at the counter that read “The customer is always right, there is a Santa Claus, & Republicans really care.” But these signs are not meant to scare people off. Or maybe they’re for a specific type of customer: those who come in with their friends only to crowd around every reflective surface for geotagged selfies.

If you do decide to spend some time in the store, put your phone in your pocket and take the liberty to immerse yourself in the store’s cozy and mellow ambience. The smell of burning incense, the sound of calming psychedelic rock songs and the welcoming presence of the store’s friendly staff make for easy respite from campus. Though the fate of the store is uncertain, as long as its doors remain open, why not take a look inside? The Bench fits everyone.