While one shouldn’t count on Wikipedia as a serious source of journalism, the “common themes” of the Southern Gothic literary subgenre listed there make me smile:
…storytelling of deeply flawed, disturbing, or eccentric characters who may be involved in hoodoo, decayed or derelict settings, grotesque situations, and other sinister events…
All that sounds like the South, alright. Especially in October.
For that reason, I especially like to seek out oddity shops in the fall. You know, those dusty, Havisham-style retailers that showcase the bizarre, the oddball, the cast-offs. You pass racks of creepy bric-a-brac; broken mirrors in baroque frames; a Magic 8 Ball next to a tattered pin-up magazine and a frog floating in a jar. They’re not antique stores, exactly, but offer a selection more curated than a flea market.
In other words, oddity emporiums are a real trove of nostalgic ephemera. They are Southern Gothic in physical form. And these are some of the best around the region—places where a rummage through the stacks might turn up taxidermy squirrels, dive-bar matchbooks, and dusty voodoo candles. Hallowed halls where one man’s trash is genuinely another’s treasure.
New Orleans
Not a month goes by when I don’t drop into Hidden South, located about fifteen minutes from the French Quarter, in the neighborhood of Arabi. Owner and curator Brent Walker worked as a film location scout for years, and remains a talented, provocative street photographer. His shop’s yard is a tangled salvage-scape of old iron fencing, rusted signs, and weatherworn folk art. Inside, a series of connected spaces pull the eye, with themes ranging from circus clowns to vintage Playboys, crucifixes to old Coca-Cola machines. Walker also stocks eclectic art pieces by such artists as Howard Finster, Lana Guerra, and Rachaela DiRosario. Otherwise, his menagerie skews high and low, and even includes a nineteenth-century Ngombe executioner’s sword. “I also have a rare autograph by P. T. Barnum from 1874,” Walker says. “The inscription was written in the memorial book of his wife, Charity, to his niece.” This writer’s favorite score? An autographed portrait of Fay Wray.
Dark Matter Oddities & Artisan Collective
New Orleans
Dark Matter is devoted to the macabre, and has a perfect location in the French Quarter, where it opened in 2019. The owners travel the world, stocking antiques that span from the 1700s to the 1960s from estate sales, closing funeral homes, you name it. Whereas some oddity shops skew chaotic, gorgeous order reigns here thanks to the owners, who are both artists. The offerings—wet-specimen jars and taxidermy art pieces, among them—line dark walls and glass cases and are regularly refreshed. “We once had a cooling table from the late 1800s,” says co-owner Chrystal Nause. “Morticians in those days came to the home for embalming, and they put the body on a table to cool it. I am really into circus ephemera, and we love anything New Orleans–specific. The biggest focus for us is to be a space that is curious and full of wonder. We based the entirety of Dark Matter on Wunderkammer, which is a German term for Cabinet of Wonders. Long ago, people would travel the world, bringing back anything unusual, from seedpods to cultural artifacts. We want to keep that culture alive here at our store on Chartres Street.”
Jim Reed Books & the Museum of Fond Memories
Birmingham
“My mother was the fount of all the creativity in our family,” says Jim Reed, whose shop on 3rd Avenue opened in my hometown of Birmingham back in 1980. A look inside reveals Reed inherited not a little of his mother’s imagination. To enter, you pass the front window, where an enormous, ominous Piggly Wiggly head holds court. Beyond thousands of books, Reed collects and sells anything paper, including bookends, globes, posters, letters, diaries, snapshots, and scrapbooks. “The reason we call it the Museum of Fond Memories,” Reed explains, “is because of my mother’s belief that you experience the world through your senses. It’s not enough to read something. You need to pick the book up, feel the weight of worn pages. Smell it. In museums, you can’t do that. Here, you can.” Among his treasures lie post-office boxes bursting with old letters, tattered paperbacks, and rare tomes. “We have a book from 1579, and it’s bound in goatskin,” Reed says of one of his oldest. “The pages are as white as last week’s newspaper.”
Garland, Texas
The collection at the Full Monty is certainly a conversation starter. An 1890s memorial card for a deceased child. An autographed 1934 portrait of circus performer Vance Swift, known then as “America’s Smallest Man.” An 1827 petition for divorce on the grounds of abandonment. A taxidermy elephant foot and a human skull. And while you never know what you’ll find, you can always count on events and classes. The shop hosts a regular macabre-style market showcasing local artists, acrobat performances, live music, and photo booths, and they also share insights on their blog on how to create and care for wet specimens (should that be your thing) and offer instruction in building shadowboxes using bones, bugs, and flowers.
Curia Arcanum’s House of Curiosities
Austin
Inside this “House of Curiosities,” Edison bulbs, ultraviolet lights, Persian carpets, and thick draperies create an undeniable carnivalesque charm. Stepping into the shop off of sunny South Congress, flanked by condos and more modern consumer retail, feels akin to transporting via traveling caravan to a land where snake charmers and storytellers abide. Within the cases and on the shelves, one might find a human skull used in secret society rituals, books on dark magic, a tarot deck from the Order of Unknown Philosophers, and death totems created by Sinister Hand Studios’ Juan Martinez, an Austin artist inspired by Mesoamerican art. Gambling dice carved into skulls or a shrunken head holiday ornament—you got it. But if you want a true experience, you might book a Cartomancy divination session with co-owner Francis Houston Blakely Suchomel III at the end of your spree.
