I find doomsday theories a waste of intellectual energy, and studiously ignore rumors about the imminent arrival of the Messiah, the Devil or little people from outer space. impressed by what. So saying, I have to admit that after visiting the recently opened "Cosmos", I have begun to wonder if we are not sliding downhill blindfolded towards the end of civilization.

Cosmos, it should be understood is more than merely a store that happens to be located not far from Tel Aviv, in Israel. It is the largest store in the entire Middle-East. It is so large that it is even larger than 90% of all of the "one-stop shopping" stores in the United States. . With more than 8,500 square meters in a single, one-story, enormously high ceilinged building, with 25 check-out counters and with the possibility of buying not only one's groceries but carpets, toys, computers, pet food, pharmaceuticals, housewares, wine, luggage, shoes and socks, underwear, cosmetics, books, CDRoms, video cassettes, sheets, towels and pillowcases, household cleaning materials, stationary supplies and virtually thousands of things made of plastic and hundreds of electric and electronic tools, gadgets and gizmos, Cosmos is, to say the least, huge. All of which, to paraphrase my daughter, I find a complete turn-off, for even though the prices here are low and the selection enormous, one-stop shopping, whether in Israel or anywhere else, is simply not my cup

What I find lacking in such monstrously large stores, despite their low prices and "convenience" is any of the feeling of intimacy, pleasure, excitement and even sensuality that can be gained in shopping for either necessity just plain fun. Such stores are engineered to tempt us into buying on compulsion; they are aimed at a mid-level socio-economic audience defined largely by the purchasing agents of the store; they reduce us from being sensitive consumers into people who are interested in little more than cramming super-large shopping baskets full with whatever it is that someone wants to sell us. Equally seriously, stores like these are devoid of elegance. Call me old-fashioned if you like, but I will continue to insist that elegance, which need not be synonymous with expensive, should be part of the life-style of civilized, cultured men and women.

That such stores can exist and thrive is, of course, as much our fault as it is that of their owners. After all, in the name of convenience, we have been too easily willing to forget that shopping should be a gentle, unhurried affair and that the purpose of the things we buy, whether foods or other items, should be to add genuine pleasure to our lives.

So much do such stores offend me (and they are proliferating the world over with amazing rapidity) that I wonder why we do not, as happened in the film "Network", run to our windows, open them wide and scream out loud, "I won't take it any more". And then, why do we not take our shopping destiny back into our own hands, buying the best and the freshest produce at farmer's markets or the fine open air markets that exist in so many cities, the best cheeses at stores that specialize in and understand cheese, and the best meats at butchers' shops where an entrecote steak is truly an entrecote steak and not merely some unidentified, boneless portion of beef to which there is a good chance that color or water has been added. Why do we not insist that when we want to buy luxury items they be sold to us in stores with courteous, well informed staff who value our trade, where the staff knows regular customers and their shopping needs, and where if the item a customer wants is not available, the store will either find it or have it made.

Personally, I want to shop for books in book stores that have an enormous variety, not only those reduced-price books that buyers think belong on my shelves; I want to purchase my wines in places where not only is there a large variety, but where there are facilities for tasting wines. In a phrase, I want my book stores to look and feel like book stores, my wine stores to feel like wine stores. I want the places where I buy my coffee to have an appealing aroma of freshly roasted coffee, my cheese stores to have a rich aroma of ripe cheeses, and my greengrocer to have everything on hand from the simplest but most delicious lettuce to the most exquisitely beautiful apples and pears. In a sense, I want to be a valued client and I do not want to be one of thousands of anonymous customers standing on line at one of twenty-five check-out counters.

For the record, I can enjoy buying foods and wines in department stores, but believe that it is our right to that department stores that have food sections should be modeled after places like London's Fortnum and Mason, with plush carpeting, attractive lighting fixtures and with displays of meats, vegetables, fruits, pasta and prepared foods so beautiful they make you sigh for joy. I even have nothing against supermarkets. When it comes to price and genuine convenience, they are probably the best places in the world at which to buy dish soap, toilet paper, garbage bags, shaving cream, dog food and, if we truly feel the need for them, frozen vegetables, tinned tuna, and dried breakfast cereals. Because they have such large buying power and are thus often cheaper than competing smaller stores, supermarkets are also excellent places in which to purchase the staples and simple culinary necessities of life. Even then, supermarkets should be at the human level, not places like Cosmos that are so huge that one needs a floor plan to avoid becoming lost.

If I found any saving grace at all at the recently opened Cosmos it is that there were huge piles of toilet paper and cat food from which to choose. In truth, however, I so disliked what I felt to be the overwhelming sense of anonymity that such places impose on their customers, I doubt very much that I will return to sample their fare again. In fact, so much did this place offend my sense of culinary aesthetics that I will probably avoid even visiting my neighborhood supermarket for a while.

Many will disagree with my point of view. All of which is fair enough, and those wishing to visit visit and perhaps even buy at these super-hyper-ultimo will locate them without any help from me. If you get lost in the store, simply request a road map. If you go bankrupt while shopping, don't say I didn't warn you.

© Daniel Rogov