A Hip Shop's Magnetic Beat

Stussy opened its doors in February, and For the Greater Good opened in September -- further proof that Commonwealth co-owners Larry Incognito and Oman Quiambao are digging in on Florida Avenue. "If we could do more I would," Incognito says. "If we could have a gallery on this block, if I could have my own cafe with cool music and some nice art on the wall, I'd do it."

For now, it's just these two spinoff shops. Stussy (an East Coast outpost for the veteran California surf and skate brand) offers street wear at a lower price point, while Greater Good appeals to street-wear graduates with thicker wallets. Greater Good manager Rhett Richardson is quick to point toward the shop's grown-up shoe rack. "You can't wear sneakers into some of the clubs in D.C.," he says. "So these are edgy shoes but still dress-up enough to get you into the club."

Abdul Abdi comes sauntering out of Greater Good in a black sweater, dark jeans and a belt covered in black pyramid studs. He's visiting from Oakland, Calif., but was familiar with Commonwealth before even stepping off the plane. "I would always go to their Web site, but this is my first time here in D.C. and I'm just checking it out," he says, hoisting up his shopping bag from the store. "This is a little more upscale. Nicer clothes, nice jeans."

The store's reputation has thrived online -- enough to garner mentions in the pages of Details and GQ -- but when it comes to traditional advertising, Quiambao is uninterested. He'd rather throw parties.

"It's really hard to get the feeling of what we're about by looking at an ad," he says. "When we do events like the one we just had, hopefully people will tell their friends they saw Diplo at this store called Commonwealth."

Pierce and Bynumb are out on the sidewalk, talking about the performance Quiambao is referring to -- a set from Diplo, the globe-trotting Philadelphia DJ-producer behind M.I.A.'s hit "Paper Planes." The event drew an overflow crowd in the hundreds, Pierce and Bynumb slinging drinks from behind a makeshift bar while store manager Roland Castro jumped on the turntables to DJ as fans waited for the headliner to arrive.

Bynumb, charismatic and garrulous, recounts his adventures as the evening's de facto bartender as if his memory has a fast-forward button: "It was crazy. . . . We went through like 20 bottles of liquor. . . . We'd grab up all the tip money and -- boom! -- run to the liquor store . . . come back with, like, six bottles . . . burn through those in, like, 15 minutes. . . . It was crazy. . . . Oh yeah, I know how to bartend. . . . I know how to make Kool-Aid, same thing."

Moments later, an older man shuffles past the Commonwealth storefront, peering in from the outside. He surveys the same room that was jammed with Diplo's revelers just a few nights earlier. Now, Commonwealth is practically empty, a lonely store with the stereo speakers still pumping.

He presses his nose to the window, his breath forming steamy Rorschach blots on the glass. Not a skateboarder or rap star entourage in sight, but that could all change at a moment's notice. With the burgeoning Commonwealth, everything is just a matter of time.