When you were 7, your mom told you Santa wasn’t real.
Well, she lied. He is. And he lives in West Midtown.
She got a few other facts wrong, too.
He doesn’t have flying reindeer. He serves beer in his workshop. And his name actually isn’t Santa.
It’s Sid.
Welcome to Middle Earth, an expanded Sid Mashburn emporium that’s filled with all sorts of holiday-gifting potential (leather shoes, silver watches, Italian-made amplifiers), now open.
First off, this has nothing to do with hobbits. See, the new space is sort of located in that no man’s land halfway between Sid’s and his wife Ann’s stores. Again, no wizards here. Just an eccentric walk-in closet of a shop adorned with a couple of ornate rugs, red velvet canvases and one giraffe head. Stuffed.
So now that you’re fully recovered from any turkey-induced comas and ready to do some holiday shopping, come here. Try on some German watches. Commission a made-to-measure pair of boots. And while you do your thing/flip through rare English fabric swatches: have a beer or two (they’ve got a bunch of bottles on ice).
Oh, and before you leave, check out that little room to the right of the cashier and through an open doorway. It’s where they’ll keep the vinyl records, vintage-style Italian stereo amps and lacquered mahogany turntables.
You know, for fancy DJing.
Well, she lied. He is. And he lives in West Midtown.
She got a few other facts wrong, too.
He doesn’t have flying reindeer. He serves beer in his workshop. And his name actually isn’t Santa.
It’s Sid.
Welcome to Middle Earth, an expanded Sid Mashburn emporium that’s filled with all sorts of holiday-gifting potential (leather shoes, silver watches, Italian-made amplifiers), now open.
First off, this has nothing to do with hobbits. See, the new space is sort of located in that no man’s land halfway between Sid’s and his wife Ann’s stores. Again, no wizards here. Just an eccentric walk-in closet of a shop adorned with a couple of ornate rugs, red velvet canvases and one giraffe head. Stuffed.
So now that you’re fully recovered from any turkey-induced comas and ready to do some holiday shopping, come here. Try on some German watches. Commission a made-to-measure pair of boots. And while you do your thing/flip through rare English fabric swatches: have a beer or two (they’ve got a bunch of bottles on ice).
Oh, and before you leave, check out that little room to the right of the cashier and through an open doorway. It’s where they’ll keep the vinyl records, vintage-style Italian stereo amps and lacquered mahogany turntables.
You know, for fancy DJing.
