Pieces of Olde

This store closed a month or so ago…

The items inside the shop are really dusty and seemed carelessly tossed here and there, like you’re picking around someone’s old attic or garage. We didn’t see any price tags, which meant every time we thought we might like to buy something we had to go to the front of the shop and ask, «How much is this»? The Owner seems nice, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to visit this shop again. Nothing unique or special…

A great little antique shop in an old house. The fact that the store used to be a house makes for some interesting twists and turns; it also means that what used to be the kitchen is the natural display place for – what else – old kitchen items.
They have an amazing collection; unfortunately, a lot of it is not priced. I guess the owners don’t understand the psychology of buyers: they’re much more likely to make a purchase if a price is displayed, even if that price is negotiable.
Lots of treasures here, and definitely worth the time it takes to look at them all. I got very nostalgic in here, and felt sad because this wonderful store reminded me of what we have lost in our mad rush to be «modern.»

«Turn right, right now!» I screeched, as we narrowly entered the neighboring lot. «I want to go antique shopping!»
The boy: «Wait, you made me turn for what?»
Me: «Like, vintage. You know?»
The boy: «Oh yeah, I like vintage. 70s and 80s porn is hilarious.»
And yet we still came out with a gorgeous, albeit rusty, wrought iron fireplace rack for $ 35.
— — — — —
Occupying the skeleton of a shingled house, walking through this place feel like entering a vast cave system where each cavern holds great wonders, opening into another filled with olden treasures. Every room had its own feel and theme, with unique, engaging displays with contents appropriate to each part of the building: cabinets holding forgotten curios, credenzas holding ornate stemware, kitchen appliances and utensils spilling out of cupboards, closets crammed with clothing of eras past, seeming more like a home-​cum-​museum than a shop. Some of the faces you can see on the walls, or engraved into the handles of mirrors. The last remainder of a girl whose lone tendril curled around a boars hair brush.
So don’t hesitate. You’re not likely to find anything comparable again. The prices are fair, the owners deserving. And it’s also likely that anything procured here no matter how small, will become part of our own stories.