I visited the shop at the center of the Kelly Clarkson drama – here’s what it’s like

It feels strange to be here, standing in front of her. She is gazing down at me with her pretty brown eyes and cheeky expression. I’ve been waiting all week to see her shiny, pointy beak. Of course, I’m gazing at Molly — the $15,000 automaton bird that has been at the center of the six-day viral showdown between Kelly Clarkson and the bougie Brooklyn Heights toy store, Art of Play.

Molly became the girl of the moment on Saturday afternoon, when the former American Idol winner sent an angry tweet out to her 8 million followers, complaining — as she told it — that she “drove all the way” to Brooklyn (what a drag!) to a store that she thought “looked really rad,” only for a “rude” sales associate to look at her like she “couldn’t afford” Molly, the yellow, singing bird affixed to the wall. Clarkson compared the experience to the famous scene in Pretty Woman where Julia Roberts’ character, the sex worker Vivian Ward, is practically laughed out of a Hollywood boutique.

The saga has escalated into the kind of inconsequential, semi-high-camp internet fodder that is catnip for the chronically online. The store posted their version of events on Instagram, claiming that Molly was not for sale, and that the sales associate had actually advised the “Dark Side” singer that they could find her a similar model from the same artist. Clarkson then clapped back, accusing them of being liars. She stated that the item had a $15,000 price tag next to it and that when she inquired about it, a store employee told her in a “condescending” tone that he could find her something comparable. From there, Art of Play received a barrage of negative comments, and one of the trio of owners, Adam Rubin — the author of the bestselling children’s book Dragons Love Tacos — declared to a scrum of media outlets outside the store: “Kelly Clarkson put us in danger.” He then went one step further and called the situation “asymmetric social warfare.” It was slightly dramatic, yes, and matters weren’t helped when the store bizarrely and passive-aggressively announced they had raised Molly’s price to $15 million. So yes, I think it’s safe to say that pettiness has occurred on both sides.

Today, at Art of Play, locals are rallying around the business. While I’m there, a local man walks in and tells Rubin he wanted to show his support because “what she did wasn’t cool.” They shake hands, and the man leaves. Another woman who is buying something remarks to the shop owner that he’s had “quite the week,” and he gives her a store-branded tote bag with her purchase so that she can “show support” for the business. Other locals come in and make similar comments. We are aware of the elephant in the room at all times. Yet Molly is watching over us from the left-hand wall — she is the most famous bird in town.

To be clear, the atmosphere here is actually very pleasant. In the middle of a store, a child is sitting at a table solving wooden puzzles with her mom. The staff chime in and give her clues and encouragement. When I try to solve a $35 puzzle that entails freeing a small wooden bird (no, not Molly) from a cage, one of the sales associates gives me a hint. I feel welcome here, and admittedly, I’m quite enjoying myself solving artisan puzzles on a random Thursday afternoon.

For all intents and purposes, this shop is for people who like luxury, design-inclined toys. After all, this is the same neighborhood that is home to Matt Damon, Emily Blunt and Adam Driver. Prices of toys, games and cards range from as low as $10 to, well (apparently) $15 million. In a glass cabinet, I spot a gold metal geometric ball-shaped puzzle by the designer Charles O. Perry for $200, a box of 34 “rare specimens from earth & beyond” (honestly, don’t ask) for $499 and a kaleidoscopic orb (about the size of a cantaloupe melon) by designer Scott Hronich, for $4,000. This is a place for people who have money to spend on leather backgammon sets and coffee table accoutrements. On the day I visit, everyone is treated the same. I get the sense that they are genuinely passionate about what they’re selling here, too.

For a lot of us, this ordeal has provided some light entertainment. And the triviality of the saga has not been lost on the internet. Putting Art of Play’s bizarre responses aside, I wonder what went through Clarkson’s mind when she decided to fire off that tweet. If I were to offer my verdict, I’d say that Clarkson was probably in the wrong. She knows, probably more than most, what kind of damage a social media onslaught can cause. Attacking a small business is not a good look, and complaining that you were denied the chance to purchase a $15,000 wooden crank-operated bird isn’t exactly a social injustice, nor is it the subtle flex she thought it was. Her account of the situation also makes me wonder if she was just irked that they maybe didn’t recognize her.

As I leave Art of Play, I can’t help but think of Molly, the almost forgotten hero of this story. There is no price tag next to her today, but a note attached to her coupe that says “Do not touch.” She looks down on the store with an all-knowing smirk. She has, in some way, become the moment. I hope she knows it.