A photograph emerged of an empty shopfront, with only its noticeboard still standingβa relic of what once was. But last week, this legendary shop closed its doors for what seems to be the final time.
The Facebook posts that followed expressed sorrow, capturing the deep affection people had for this place. Its reputation was unmatched. Students, locals, and even random passersby would marvel at the sheer diversity of goods in that small space. The internet age amplified its mythical status. Even Uncyclopediaβa satirical site akin to Wikipediaβimmortalized the store. The humor masked a reality: the shop truly was the go-to place for anything and everything, no matter how unexpected the request.
I recently organized a space online for people to share their memories of the shop, and the stories poured in. Some of these recent anecdotes are even more real than the satirical Uncyclopedia tales. One person reminisced about needing supplies for a freshman orientation event in It was 10 PM, and every major store had already closed. While they could have waited until the next day, they decided to test the legend of Jee Choi. To their delight, the grandmas had everything they needed, and the project was finished that night.
Another story from described a student who had an early English exam. Sure enough, they got a pair of slacks just in time for the exam. These stories reflect something powerful about the Sam Yan community.
Yet, the university raised rents year after year, eventually making it impossible for her to continue. But they forget the shop was thriving even as big superstores like Tesco Lotus came in. Many students preferred Jee Choi over impersonal malls. Chulalongkorn University moved the shop from its prime spot to a back alley to make way for the corporate expansion that brought Sam Yan Mitr Town into existence.
