I LIKE TO WALK through the Square periodically to keep pace with the comings and goings of the local shops. With each changing of the guard, there's always the hope some aspiring business man will finally get it right and scratch your four-year itch.

"A decent drycleaner?" you muse, wishfully eyeing the vacant storefront. A deli? Please, let it be a deli.

So it was with sinking disappointment that I eyed the latest arrival along Mt. Auburn St., Gelateria Giuseppe. Translated that means sugar, and butterfat and crunch wafer cones--is this beginning to sound familiar? At my count, that brings to nine the number of ice cream emporiums a cone's throw from the Harvard T stop. What are they bringing into a world already complicated by oatmeal cookie vs. pina colada?

"But this is Italian ice cream," my friends explain patiently. Nationality, however, is not the issue: common sense is. Knock out even one of the existing home grown ice cream stores, and we could revel in cultural diversity, but simply adding to an already glutted market is not contribution to the Square.

The ice cream proliferation is only part of the trend that threatens to transform the Square, once and for all, into a Quincy Market outpost. Over the past 20 years, the area has steadily shifted away form local shops and services toward national chains that cater primarily to students and tourists. In 1961, the Square boasted 12 tailors--now there is one. How did you feel the last time you had to get a pair of shoes fixed?

As a happy-go-lucky student, I enjoy the proliferation of eateries and record stores until I need to transact some "real life" business--that I usually save for trips home. But how must it feel to live here and watch your neighborhood optometrist, or vacuum repairman clear out to make way or yet another video arcade?

The change is as much one of style a substance. Julia Child may shop at Sage's, but that doesn't mean it's a good place to pick up a gallon of o.j. Boutiques are ripe for window-shopping, but what if you really need to buy clothes? Gentrification is usually pleasing to the eye, but less kind to the pocket. And as time wears on, even the slick interiors and brass railings lose a bit of their gleam. The process just becomes too predictable--the porcelain tile tables and ceiling fans follow the influx of young professionals with clockwork precision.

Wealthier students can ride this tide with the upwardly mobile; others may find it harder to keep apace as the Square begins to flirt in earnest with chi-chi consumerism. I hear there's still an army surplus store at Central Square where, coincidentally, you can also find the proletariat fast food Cambridge opposes. At least at McDonald's two dollars can buy you dinner, not just a sugar rush.

It's hard to argue against ice cream--I'm known to eat a good deal of it myself--but the new gelateria gets to me just the same. Gelato may be the perfect chaser for the clam chowder popcorn next door, but do we really want to live with it?