If you’ve ever wandered down Wickenden Street, whether it’s to pick up your daily coffee at Coffee Exchange or grab a bite at Amy’s, chances are you’ve stumbled across a quaint antique shop named Nostalgia Antiques & Collectibles that sits near the street corner. Throughout my time at Brown, I’ve frequented this shop many times with friends, eager to discover any treasures that have yet to be found in its various nooks and crannies. The shop, with all of its charm and curated selection of vintage items, ensures that you’ll find something worth writing home about. From miniature furniture to alien life forms, I thought I’d share some of my findings during this month’s expedition.

•  The “Karen” Coat Hanger

Upon walking into the shop, I stumbled into one of the hidden corner rooms and came across an old wooden wall coat hanger with the name “KAREN” in colorful, bold lettering. As I inspected it closer, I realized how meticulously crafted this piece of woodwork was. There were white, dainty, dotted hearts painted onto each letter, and as precise as each dot was, a level of imperfection seeped through when I noticed each dot varied in size. There was something extremely human about this lack of perfectly even dots, and rather than framing it as a mistake, it revealed to me the careful work of an individual who must’ve spent countless hours meticulously crafting this piece with steady hands. Like most people who walk into an antique shop, I wondered who this wonderfully crafted coat hanger originally belonged to. With little to go off of to be able to track down its origins (and the fact that there are a bajillion people out there named Karen), I like to think that, given its whimsical nature, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume this piece once belonged to a child’s bedroom. This was a piece that exuded a parent’s love for their child, enough to craft a coat hanger by hand. I’m not sure who Karen is or where she is now, but it’s clear that she was loved.

Attached to the coat hanger was also a tag that read “$28 KAREN Coat Hanger (of course, all karens are priceless).” It seems only fitting that another Karen would be the next person to own this beautiful piece, so if there are any Karens reading this, just so you know, there’s a coat hanger in that shop with your name on it!

• Keys That Lead to Nowhere 

As I ventured further into the first floor, a couple of keys placed on a shelf in the center of the room captured my interest. They were enveloped in a thick and corrosive copper with teeth that had curved from turning locks many moons ago. I picked one up in my palm and noticed its jagged surface as it made contact with my skin, leaving behind traces of powdery orange dust and the scent of pennies on my fingertips. They were large, bulky, and engraved with numbers or words that alluded to their possible origins. I imagined how they must’ve opened the lock to someone’s home on numerous nights, been fumbled and dropped on the ground while attempting to be used, or simply sat in a coat pocket or a drawer for years on end with no real use. One of these keys in particular had an inscription on its handle that read “Marlborough Blenheim” with the number 101 inscribed very large in the center. Driven by curiosity, I did some digging online and found that it might’ve been an original room key belonging to the historic Marlborough-Blenheim Hotel that used to be located in Atlantic City, NJ. The hotel was built between 1902 and 1906 and existed until its demolition in 1978. I wondered, how in the world did a key from a demolished hotel in New Jersey end up in an antique shop in Rhode Island? While I’ll never know the answer, it was fascinating to be able to hold a remnant of the past and learn about a history that may be unknown to many.

• Miniature Furniture 

I made my way past the keys and toward the right side of the first floor where shelves of trinkets covered the walls. Among these trinkets were a pair of vintage miniature dollhouse cabinets: a wooden Chippendale-style secretary bookcase in a dark red mahogany stain with brass hardware, and a molded plastic china hutch painted in coral with gold handles. These two had a tag that read “$9 Vintage Dollhouse.” The handles were functional and swung open and closed. Both pieces were in mint condition without a single chip in their paint. I imagined the young girl who must’ve placed these pieces within her doll’s home and cherished them deeply as she played with them for days on end. It made me think about being a young girl once myself, and the miniature furniture I once adored so immensely. A moment of girlhood that is so universal, especially the moment that arrives when you outgrow what you once loved. You then sell or donate your miniature furniture to another young girl who may love it just as much as you once did. I took the cabinets off of the shelf I found them in and placed them on the small wooden table in the center. I did this in hopes that a child would walk through the front door one day and their wandering eyes would see these miniature treasures, breathing life into them once again.

• Alf 

I proceeded toward the second floor and climbed up the creaky, carpeted steps surrounded by brightly colored paintings and pencil drawings, vintage photographs captured in black-and-white film, and framed movie posters from the sixties plastered on the walls. Once at the top, I started to scan the area, and amid the endless sea of clothing and knick-knacks, a vibrant costume in the corner of the room caught my eye. The costume resembled a smock and was made of a thin, glossy plastic and split into two luminous colors. The top portion was an intense blue accompanied by a white trim outlining the neck and shoulders. The bottom half was a solid, vivid red. However, that wasn’t what made it so striking to me, it was the massive graphic printed on the very front depicting a furry creature with large ears and a pig’s nose. In big, bold letters the word “ALF” was spelled out. I was intrigued (and also a little unnerved) by this creature and quickly learned from the internet that ALF (Alien Life Form) is in fact a sitcom from the late eighties that follows an alien who starts living on Earth with a suburban family. This was a vintage 1980s ALF Halloween costume that was sold in boxed kits at drugstores and department stores during the show’s run from 1986-1990. I pictured this being a beloved costume worn by a kid in the eighties who wanted nothing more than to be their favorite character for Halloween. It was simple, easy to slip on, and if no one knew exactly who you were, then it would be spelled out for them in big, bold letters. Or perhaps this was worn by an adult who needed a last minute Halloween costume and decided to throw it on and call it a day. Regardless, the costume still lingered with the Halloween spirit left behind by its previous wearers, and as it hung in the corner, I could almost feel its many nights of trick-or-treating. Considering Halloween is right around the corner, it could be a fun idea to be a furry alien creature from the eighties as your Halloween costume this year.

Every visit to Nostalgia, I am met with childlike wonder from the moment I step one foot through the door. I’m always awestruck by the items I find inside of the shop and how they either remind me of certain moments in my life or teach me something new. Every item was once attached to a person and is now attached to a story or a piece of hidden history. Nostalgia really does live up to its name, so next time you find yourself wandering down Wickenden, I urge you to take a look inside. You never know what might surprise you.