Hyde Park Antiques Center Scene Sketch
With an hour left until closing, Hyde Park Antiques Center sat quietly under the cloudy sky. There were a few cars in the small, U-shaped parking lot. Considering the lack in customers inside, they presumably belonged to the two older gentlemen who sat behind the front counter.
The building itself is made of wood, long and built in the shape of a V. There’s a front porch that runs along the entire front of the store, acting almost as a barrier between the building and the parking lot. The porch is covered in furniture, things like rocking chairs, dressers, desks, and bed posts, giving potential customers a sneak preview of what Hyde Park Antiques Center has in store for them.
The aisles were narrow and overcrowded. The only way to walk through some of them was to shimmy or squeeze through, trying not to knock any of the merchandise over. There were even some signs up that recommend anyone with purses leave them in the car or hold them close to their person, so they aren’t swinging around and hitting anything.
Every nook and cranny of the store was jam packed with any piece of furniture or home decor that could cross someone’s mind. There wasn’t a single thing that wasn’t eye catching.
It’s an organized chaos. At first glance, it seems as though every item was placed haphazardly, without a second thought. After a deeper look, it’s noticeable that everything is within their own categories. Antique phones and typewriters, frilly lamps with matching end tables, porcelain teapots with polished silverware. Everything has it’s place.
All of the furniture is unique but similar. They all have the same style, like they all came straight out of a 95 year old great-grandmother’s house. But up close, it’s easy to see the small details on each of them that make them individuals. There was one couch in particular, that stood out. It was tucked into one of the back corner sections of the the store, like a hidden treasure. It was long. The back part of it was white and the seat was a dirty green. It doesn’t look comfortable, and it isn’t. It’s easy to imagine a pair of overzealous grad students buying it for their first apartment in Brooklyn, thinking it’s “vintage” and that it’ll fit the aesthetic they’re going for, not really caring if it’s comfortable or not.
One of the most intriguing parts of the store is the rooms that are dedicated to antique clocks. There were grandfather clocks, tall and brooding, giving off this vibe that they were watching the customers every move, despite the fact that they didn’t have eyes. There were smaller clocks, that delicately hung on the walls, ticking up a storm. The room was littered with stuffed animals, each one with a little sign taped to it that said “Not for sale: here as a friend to the clocks”.
Every creak of the worn-out floorboards, every hushed sentence spoken from one customer to another (because for some reason, it’s assumed that patrons have to be quiet in antique stores, as if they’ll wake the spirits that live within the merchandise), every quiet clattering of china being placed back onto its respective self adds to the feeling and appeal of the store.