Alright, gather 'round, folks, and let me tell you about my recent pilgrimage to Emporium 1905 in…read morecharming Corsicana, Texas. Now, I consider myself and my wife connoisseurs of quaint, her a maven of mercantile, and both of us true believers in the thrill of the hunt. And oh, what a hunt it was at Emporium 1905!
Before I proceed though, I want to preface that the woman who owns this establishment is a kind and gentle soul. She is generous from her heart, but my review may lead you to believe otherwise so I want to put that out there!
Stepping into this establishment is like entering a time machine set to "delightfully cluttered." Every nook and cranny is overflowing with treasures, or at least, what I thought were treasures. The air hums with the scent of aged wood and forgotten stories, and my inner magpie immediately started doing a happy dance.
My eyes landed on a magnificent, tarnished tin- the kind that practically begs you to discover new uses for it. "Ah!" I thought, "a perfect addition to my study, bookshelf, allowing me to ponder the joys it has seen in its years from the comfort of my armchair!" My wife approached the owner, a woman whose smile was as warm as the Corsicana sun, and inquired about its price.
"Oh, that?" She chuckled, a glint in her eye. "No, no, I can't sell that. That was a gift from a customer."
Mildly dejected, but undeterred, I moved on. My gaze then fell upon a vintage lighted Santa vacuform gleaming like a golden beacon. Imagine him lighting my living room! The glow on the night. I could see it almost like a sailor sees the siren sitting on a rock in the waves...This," I declared internally, "is the missing piece to my retro-chic puzzle!"
Again, we approached the owner, radiating enthusiasm. "And this beautiful Santa? I asked, my voice brimming with anticipation.
She patted the dusty form affectionately. "Ah, the Santa. That's for my own personal collection. Can't part with that."
At this point, a pattern was emerging. A rather frustrating, yet oddly hilarious, pattern. I spotted an incredibly charming, but somewhat aged cardboard chocolate box. Perfect for our next bookshelf decor.
"This old chocolate box!" I exclaimed, practically swooning. "Is it for sale?"
She shook her head, a look of almost maternal pride on her face. "That? It's just on display. For ambiance, you see."
Ambiance, indeed! My ambiance was rapidly turning into an internal scream of "JUST LET ME BUY SOMETHING!"
The shop owner, bless her heart, was a true curator of her own desires. Everything I coveted, everything my heart yearned to bring home, was either a cherished family relic, a personal indulgence, or purely for "ambiance." I swear, if I'd expressed interest in a speck of dust on the floor, she probably would have said, "Oh, that's from my friend Frank's shoes. It's been with me for years. Wouldn't sell it for the world."
I eventually left Emporium 1905 with a few small, unassuming, and decidedly un-coveted table cloths that I'm fairly certain were allowed to be sold only because the owner hadn't formed an emotional attachment to them yet.
But despite the comedic frustration, I have to give it to Emporium 1905. It's a truly unique experience. Just be prepared to fall in love with a lot of things you can't have. It's less of a shop and more of a museum of one woman's very excellent taste... and yea also her unwillingness to part with things.
So, if you're ever in Corsicana and you're looking for a good laugh, and perhaps a lesson in detachment, do swing by Emporium 1905. Just don't get your hopes up about buying that exquisite whatever-it-is you absolutely must have. Chances are, it's already found its forever home... with the shop owner.
