Lauren Weisberger’s chick-lit hit The Devil Wears Prada read like one long extended commercial — Givenchy bags, Starbucks lattes, Mercedes convertibles — there was nary a page in the book that didn’t have a brand name splashed across it. Furthermore, it featured what seems to be the quintessential chick lit "heroine" — a whiny, self-obsessed spoiled white girl who’s too wimpy to stick up for herself, and too irritatingly clueless to sympathize with. For the cinematic adaptation of Prada we’re still subjected to an endless parade of designer namedrops, but at least the main character of Andy (Anne Hathaway) has gone and got herself a spine. Well, at least a semblance of a spine.
The flavors at Crust are a revelation — not to mention the wines chosen to go along with them. Lots of people pick up a pizza after work, and maybe a six-pack. For not a lot more money, you can have more fun at Crust, where the “Naples classics” attest to the Neapolitan way of thinking, where crust is supreme.