An Angel-Sent Antique Shop

Tucked in a nook in Noonday, Texas stands two pink and yellow buildings housing hundreds of preloved pieces. Just a single step into Our Little Corner will keep you there for longer than you should be, but not as much as you’d like to. The shift of an eye offers another item you just may die without. Frank Sinatra songs float through the air from an fm radio, encouraging patrons to dance down the aisles. No girl can deny The Sultan of Swoon, so of course we did just that, following the riffs to the record section.

Speaking of records...

*record scratch* *freeze frame*

You’re probably wondering how we ended up here — in a town no one’s heard of, at a place “youngsters like us don’t typically frequent”.

Just one minute before arriving, on a commute back to College Station following a home visit for Easter, my friend, Lauren, reading my mind as she so frequently does, lamented our lack of recent thrift trips, confident that we will find one on the way, despite the typical route hardly offering even a gas station. For some reason though, that day, the GPS had taken us a roundabout way we’d never gone before. Then, low and behold, less than a mile up the road, we were greeted with that antique shop. We rubbed our eyes to ensure this menagerie we spoke into existence wasn’t a mirage. Unable to deny the brick and mortar, counting our blessing and our cash, we couldn’t get out of the car fast enough.

The lady at the front register must have heard “Come here! You HAVE to see this,” a hundred times before we emptied our full hands on the counter to look for more. We perused the merchandise maze, oohing and aahing, eyes wide as Christmas morning.

A Canon super8 Vintage Movie Camera begged to shoot more home videos.

On the floor, a lamp in the shape of a zebra head lights up at the idea of being in our home.

Ceramic figurines posed confidently in their crannies— they lived comfortable lives there.

Rows of novelty salt and pepper containers take up a full wall, perhaps shaken by the idea of never being invited back to a kitchen table, but smiling nonetheless.

The energy is good. I can feel the tracing of fingertips from those before me. The love they had for these items reignites in me.

Since I couldn’t take home the entirety of the store, I decided on the following and I can’t help but to imagine the lives they found their way into mine.

Jane Fonda’s Workout Record

Something tells me this piece was part of someone’s New Years resolution to become a fitter, fabber, Fondaer version of themselves. If they did achieve this, it was not done with the featured music of Jimmy Buffett, The Jackson’s and Linda Clifford, as it was still in its original packaging. I tittered at the familiarity of this, comforted by the notion of people staying the same as the world continues to change. Placing it under my arm, I vowed to not let Jane’s hard work be for not, and as you can see, it’s out of the plastic. And don’t worry, I’ll use it tomorrow.

Fashion Gloves

You CAN NOT wear those in public was the first thing my friend said upon sending the three pairs. Not once have I ever questioned where I will wear something before buying it. In fact, I had full intentions of wearing the pink to a baseball game that night despite it being 70 degrees outside. These gloves have been to more social events, church services, job interviews and shops and have shaken more hands than I have in my lifetime. They have a story to tell that won’t be silenced by a few stray stares. Commit to the fit. Fashion gloves are back in.

Poodle Picture

I feel this piece was portrayed in a child’s bedroom. It holds an innocence in it that goes beyond just the imagery. I passed by it twice before deciding I couldn’t leave without it. It sits on my college nightstand until it finds its place in my future daughter’s nursery, and perhaps to her college nightstand too.

If we were not sure this place was heaven-sent before, the angel numbers and signs at ever turn more than convinced us.

Along the way, somewhere in between a vintage slip and a vanity set that caught my eye, as I was sitting down a modge-podged concretization of a dad joke gone horribly right (as seen below), Lauren picked up a woman wondering if we typically go to thrift stores as our enthusiasm seemed novel. After exchanging our mutual love for places such as these, she continued on with us, speaking of her life, asking of ours; both parties oohing and aahing alike, until checkout. It was only there we realized the walking stick she’d been toting was not from necessity, but for her gentleman friend who collects them. She’d gotten him one jokingly the year prior for his birthday as a jab at his age, but upon gifting found out of his cane cumulation.

Sequeing between comments on the shape of an old olive fork on the counter, and how women weren’t allowed to step on Texas University grounds without an affiliated man until the 70s, back to praise of delightful lemon squares they used to serve on site before getting hit for not having a food handlers’ license, we got more than antique accessories from that excursion. Despite leaving the place arms heavy with bags, we felt lighter.

Agreeing to make this a tradition with every home trip (armed with lemon squares next time), our thrift haul included both antiques and anecdotes passed down from one to be cherished by both.