West St Paul Antiques

Stopped by this very nice shop while cutting through west st paul because of the road construction. The owner Lloyd was very cool and really knew his stuff. The shop has many finer items and is not one of those junk shops that call themselves antique stores. I love the single owner type shop because if they dig cool stuff the store can be a dream.
West St. Paul Antiques is that kind of cool shop done with that certain style that is very attractive.

A bright red neon sign that reads ‘Antique Mall’ illuminates the storefront. It’s literally right next to Cherokee Tavern and it (quite deceptively) appears small and underwhelming from the exterior. There’s a tiny parking lot situated in the rear of the building but you can also enter from the front of the store if you can nab a street spot (do note, however, that the small parking area diagonal the store is reserved chiefly for Amore Coffee and Cherokee Tavern).
The main level is chock full of military memorabilia, ornate furniture and jewelry. There are lots of small things to dig through (bowls of antique keys ranging from the highly decorative variety to the key for your grandpa’s Volkswagen) that will surely cause you to lose hours of time if you’re the crafty sort. … Why, yes, I –do– know this from personal experience. Aint nobody judge me.
There’s a weathered war helmet from Nazi Germany in one of the glass cases that I’d love to own and sit on top of my blender as a conversation piece.
«Can I have my daiquiri blended?»
«NEIN!»
It’s the little things in life, isn’t it?
Off to the side of the left of the store, there’s a somewhat hidden stairway that leads to the basement level. Initially, you’re greeted with a huge assortment of Winter Carnival items (in which I have zero interest) and fur coats. I bypass all of those so I can spend some time drooling at the giant glass case that houses all the rifles – seriously, I’d buy those bitches in a heartbeat if I could. The lower level is also where you’ll find the larger military items (IE: officer’s coats, ammunition cases, basic helmets, etc) and a ton of cool shit like antique cigar boxes, old fishing reels and lures, tools/​toolboxes and decorative liquor bottles. There’s also a section the contains a ton of toys (that I also actively avoid) and a separate area for rusty kitchen supplies.
The owner is always doing some sort of seasonal promotion and sometimes everything in the basement level is 20−40% off. This makes me happy.
I should note at this point that this antique store isn’t quite as immaculately organized as some I’ve been to – there are areas down there where they’re half-​ass blocked off and glancing in to them makes you feel like you’re in a horror flick – but that’s part of its charm to me. It might not be to you.
If you’re still up for hunting, the upstairs level has a lot of old paintings, prints, lithographs and creepy fun stuff like dusty cribs and dolls. As much as I think the little older guy that runs this place kicks ass, I don’t think he necessarily adheres to a specific schedule. My girlfriend and I were here one day (it was probably a quarter past four) truffling around up there when she decided to rock one of the cribs. Naturally, It emitted this eerie noise and we both simultaneously had the urge to shit our pants like pansies.
At that very moment, the lights went off.
We both looked at one another with the same «what the fuck?!» expression and started fumbling our way back to the stairway, certain that some disgusting baby poltergeist was going to attach to us and feast on our delicious gay souls.
By the time we got to the bottom, the little old guy looked horrified; he shakily apologized and said he had no idea anyone was still in the store and had simply intended to lock up early.
The moral of the story? Don’t browse too quietly.
The owner’s up for a good haggle and actually let my girlfriend purchase a painting she’d wanted to get me for christmas at a very good price.
He also buys antiques (by appointment only) and seems to be the sort that would engage in full or partial trades.
I enjoy coming here especially when I don’t feel like making the voyage to downtown Stillwater.
If you’re feeling listless, nab a coffee at Amore, wander over here and take an hour or two to ponder what you would do with a Nazi helmet.