Desert Island is the rare shop where the room itself is part of the argument — a former Italian bakery that kept its facade, stocked the shelves with Charles Burns and Simon Hanselmann, and somehow made the whole thing feel like a gallery that also sells things.
The Vibe
Compact, colorful, and quiet in a good way. Arrows along the ceiling direct you through the stacks. The window display rotates — always something hand-drawn, always worth a look before you walk in. No music that fights for attention, no aggressive retail energy. Gabe is usually behind the counter; if he's there, he'll talk comics without making you feel like you should already know more than you do.
What to Order
- Smoke Signal — the store's own free quarterly comics newspaper. Take one. It's the size of a broadsheet, all comics, no filler, and it's been Eisner-nominated. You can't do better for free.
- Consignment rack — self-published minicomics and zines from working artists, most under ten dollars. This is where you find the thing neither of you has heard of and end up talking about for the rest of the night.
- Skip the mainstream shelf — Desert Island isn't the place to restock on Marvel. The back-issue bins exist, but the store's whole reason for being is the alternative section. Go there first and stay there.
When to Come
Any afternoon between two stops in Williamsburg — this is a thirty-minute browse, not a sit-down. Wednesday through Sunday, noon to seven. No reservation, obviously. Best on a weekend afternoon when Gabe's in and the window display has just changed.
The Bottom Line
One of the best date stops in Brooklyn: weird enough to spark a real conversation, specific enough that showing up here says something about you.