Denham Springs Eternal

A brisk twenty-five-minute drive from Country Roads’ downtown Baton Rouge office, the Denham Springs Antique Village within the Historic District (and just added to the National Register of Historic Places) has bounced back admirably from the devastating floods of 2016—on a recent shopping trip, the only apparent signs of that inundated August were stickers on several buildings noting the chest-level high-water marks. Plan most of a day for your Denham Springs outing—since while the shopping area isn’t very big it is extremely dense—and make it late in the week; several shops I passed had weekend or Wednesday–Sunday hours, limiting the financial trouble I could get myself into on a Tuesday.

The stores along Range Avenue run the gamut from shabby-chic to genuinely, wonderfully shabby. Theatre Antiques, in a repurposed old theatre (ca. 1926), and Heritage House Antiques are sprawling malls, full of individual booths boasting a near-absurd array of options, and either one alone would be worth the drive. The Copper Hutch offers a mix of salvaged and imported home goods—think wooden window frames and lush patterned blankets—along with bin after bin of vinyl and racks of vintage magazines. Cavalier House Books is, in an age of Amazon and Barnes and Noble, a good old-fashioned bookstore, perfect for browsing and finding titles you wouldn’t think to type into a search bar. There’s much, much more than I was able to explore, and the area also hosts regular events; follow@dsantiquevillage on social media and visit denhamspringsantiquevillage.com to stay apprised and plan your attack.

For refueling, I recommend TOLA Café, short for “taste of Louisiana” and situated conveniently at the end of the Antique Village: you can go up one side of the street, have lunch, then loop back down the other side. The chicken-pesto sandwich special I had was flavorful and filling without being heavy—which was fortunate, since it had been preceded by a cup of truly magnificent corn and shrimp bisque. When I visited, TOLA was full of campaign signs for owner Amber Dugas, who was running for the Denham Springs City Council; she won her race, and if her council term is half as successful as that soup, Denham Springs can look forward to a golden age as the Athens of Livingston Parish.

[Read this: A trip across the bridge to Port Allen for burgers, biscuits, and blues history]

In a few hours in Denham Springs, I made a solid dent in my shopping list, waxed poetic over soup, and found another little corner of Louisiana to think of fondly: not at all a bad tally for a single afternoon. Here’s what I found:

For the friend who has everything: A book of seventeen hundred obscene limericks, published in 1964 and sporting both an index and a scholarly preface that makes the subsequent exploits of the Duchess of Buckingham and the good people of Nantucket even more startling. $30, and a steal at twice that.

For the best friend with whom you nevertheless feel a certain rivalry:

A matching set of genuine (ostensibly, and I want it to be true) mink collar and purse. Admittedly, I am easy to shop for (when in doubt, cheese), but she always gets me a better gift than I get her. Not this year, missy. Stroke your new purse and weep. $30; if I feel like outdoing myself, I’ll slip the official Dollywood cookbook ($12) into the purse.

In a few hours in Denham Springs, I made a solid dent in my shopping list, waxed poetic over soup, and found another little corner of Louisiana to think of fondly: not at all a bad tally for a single afternoon.

For the most whimsical aunt:

Birdhouses for the uninvited but charming Carolina wrens that have made her property their home. As Austin’s suburban sprawl has spread amoeba-like into the surrounding countryside, my aunt has kept her little house and attached acre a redoubt of semirural serenity. Unfinished birdhouses are $12 and up—I may get two, paint one, and send them both to her as a long-distance collaborative art project.

For the creepy friend:

A vintage scary comic book. This one is called Creepy Things, and the cover shows a sleeping Creole woman with her baby… and an approaching man-sized spider. Perfect for the friend whose car mascot is a stuffed bat and complains that every horror movie “isn’t quite scary, really.”

For the ex you’ve decided to remain friends with:

A framed portrait of screen-siren-turned-sitcom-mom Yvonne De Carlo. Nothing says “had you but been nicer to me…” like an exquisitely chosen gift, and this print of the actress who made her name as an exotic film beauty but is best remembered as TV’s Lily Munster is the perfect slightly-too-perfect gift for the only person I know who loves old sitcoms as much as I do. Other stars of the ‘40s, ‘50s, and ‘60s are also available. Cheaper than therapy at $11.

For the maternal bookworm:

The Snowy Nap by Jan Brett. My mother has always loved children’s books, specifically those text-heavy, lushly illustrated animal tales that are made for reading with an adult who knows how to point out the best parts of the picture and help spin your own stories. This one happens to be about a hedgehog, one of the sweetest animals in the children’s-author menagerie, and had me tearing up right in the bookstore. $20, and it came with a matching totebag, which I am keeping for myself (see below).

For yourself:

If your birthday lands anywhere from mid-November to early January or within a few days of Valentine’s, Mother’s, or Father’s Day, you have to learn how to be a little selfish—people who claim they love you will give you one “big” present for multiple occasions. My mother apparently went into labor as she sat down to turkey and dressing (the first Thanksgiving I would ruin, but not the last), so I’ve learned to be aggressive about celebrating me—not me and pilgrims, not me and the Nativity, me. So I bought myself a gigantic, delightfully odd orange vase for the side table I intend to buy myself for Christmas. $35, and I’m worth it.  

denhamspringsantiquevillage.com

Dear readers: I’m sad to announce that this will be my last piece for Country Roads as an on-staff editor. I’ve loved sharing my (mis)adventures with you, and I hope to reappear in these pages as an occasional contributor. Thank you for being such a wonderful audience, and I’ll hope to see you again on some country road.

—Chris Turner-Neal