When I first wandered through the new South Lake Union neighborhood, I was delighted to see a giant Bob's Big Boy sign hanging in the window of Antique Liquidators. Oh boy, I thought, at least somebody around here is a true believer in kitsch. And I resolved to someday go shopping in the place. But it wasn't until two years later that I finally stepped through the giant garage doors into what I assumed would be ancient pop culture heaven.

But Antique Liquidators is not interested in kitsch whatsoever. The establishment is filled with serious furniture. The dressers, wardrobes, couches, and chairs feel as formal and eternal as a Shakespearean sonnet. I was immediately intimidated. This furniture made me feel callow. I wasn't mature enough to look at one oak dining table, let alone purchase even a sepia postcard. So I fled.

Yep, I fearfully ran away from furniture.

Six months later, I returned and spent a few hours meandering through three floors of gorgeous works of utilitarian art. I wondered about the carpenters, the artisans who built the pieces. I wondered about the lumberjacks who brought down the trees that became the lumber. I wondered about the people who studied themselves in the full-length mirrors.

In a neighborhood filled with brash and contemporary young people, Antique Liquidators feels like a church with a silent chorus of grandparents.

There is magic in spending time with a coffee table that is older than you. You should give it a try. recommended