[cover story]

Downtown on a Dime:
Rediscovering ways to keep our spending local

By: Shea Carver

Downtown is home. It’s where my best friends and I have coffee and dish about our dates, or lack thereof. It’s where we dine and gossip about politics and celebrities. It’s where we order cocktails and smoke cigarettes ‘til our lungs are screaming for fresh air to every patron who sits beside of us. It’s where we shop to restock our closets upon every need—which is, in fact, about every two days.

Downtown is our addiction. It’s our life.

As a matter of fact, my two best friends, who are much younger than I, only had one goal upon graduating high school: Get an apartment downtown. In their minds life downtown matured and educated them beyond campus life. While their peers were tutoring for Trig 201, they were studying ways to make their IDs pass them off as 21-year-olds at local watering holes Firebelly and Blue Post.

Downtown’s allure is magical—to everyone, really, who ever takes the time to discover it. It has a certain je na sais quoi, perhaps from the mix of history and modern hipsters and shops converging on one street, that other areas in town simply do not. Add to it the deluge of restaurants and bars, alongside offices and tattoo parlors, spas and hair salons, art galleries and music venues, and it shows off its village-like roots with utter appeal.

Last Wednesday I decided to play tourist to downtown, which I learned rather quickly was impossible to do, seeing as I spend so much time there anyway, it’s hard not to run into people I know. However, what I found was a hefty bustle of tourist activity, where quite a few times I was asked where the best place to dine would be—or the best attraction to see. Always finding time to offer a suggestion, conversation proved pleasant.

“This area is really unique,” one lady offered, as her children were scurrying about Kilwins, licking their Superman cones of ice cream. “I can’t believe such a quaint place is so close to all of these beaches.”
She was right. Luck of creation, I suppose.

“And everything is so reasonable, here,” she stated rather shocked, especially now since cost-of-living has skyrocketed and the U.S. dollar holds little integrity on the global scale. Then it hit me how right she was. I can still shop, play, tour, practically do anything without having to spend an arm and a leg downtown. Thus, she put me to the challenge: Spend a day among the historic streets without breaking the bank, including dining, shopping, mingling, touring—the whole she-bang.

Without missing a beat, I was off.

First stop: Old Books on Front Street, owned and operated by one of downtown’s most fascinating gals, Gwenyfar Roehler. “Well, hello!” she greeted me happily as I shimmied into the store among foot traffic weaving in and out of the aisles of books.

“Thanks to you, I have one of the largest sections of foreign books on the Southeast coast,” she continued.

“What?” I responded, somewhat perplexed.

“Yep, you should know your editorial on accepting the Spanish-speaking population didn’t go unnoticed. It actually did some good.” She was referring to an op-ed I wrote six months back about the acceptance of other cultures in our area, including Latino, and how rather than building barriers to make it impossible for them to integrate, we should welcome them into our “melting pot” of a nation. “I have tons of harlequin romance novels in Spanish, if you’re interested.”

I laughed and was completely flattered by her accordance to such dialogue. “You got a lot of interesting responses to that,” she stated.
“Yeah, I find it amazing how some people reacted,” I noted.
“Well, some good came of it. You were onto something, there,” Gwyn reassured.

After briefly engaging in the how-have-you-beens and what-have-you-been-up-tos, I wondered through the old books, stacked to the ceiling practically, as hard-bounds and paperbacks awaited a coddle. They shared shelves in every genre, from music to religion, fiction to politics. I perused the philosophy section before discussing my love for biographies.

“Yeah, it’s like justified gossip,” Gwyn laughed. She was dead-on.
“Learning about people and getting the inside scoop on their lives is always of interest,” I added.

“Have you read Nicholas and Alexandra?” she quipped—“about the fall of Imperial Russia?” I shook my head no. “Well, you’ll learn more about hemophilia than you’d ever imagine,” she laughed. “But it’s such a wonderfully-written book, and it really gives a thorough understanding of life during that period...

“And just wait until you read the part where they try and kill Rasputin. It’s unbelievable.”

She pulled the hard-bound book from the shelf without giving a second thought to its location among the extremely large catalogue of reads. For a mere $7, it was mine. (I could have bought the paperback for a buck, but, hey, I love hard-bounds, and what’s $7 for a good read?) After a brief introduction to her lovely cousin—Old Books is completely family-operated—and chatting about the success of Knit-Wits, a group that meets in the store to knit and banter, I hugged the bookworm goodbye and then headed off to my next destination: Flashbax.

Situated only a few shops down from Old Books on Front Street, Flashbax is Wilmington’s only true vintage-clothing shop. It sells period clothing that can’t be found anywhere else in town. From Brady-Bunch-style frocks to ‘50s A-line dresses, to ‘80s bold sundresses and everything in between, Flashbax is complete in its shopping through the eras.

After a welcoming hello and an explanation of the fall and winter dress sales, the sales rep took a seat behind the counter to cozy up into her book—probably purchased next door, nonetheless. Downtown folk really do well at supporting one another. However, the shop began to flood with people shortly thereafter, keeping her away from the book and happily helpful to many customers. A group of college gals were trying on crochet-styled tops, while a couple was perusing the vinyl on the runway. I purchased a pair of oversized ‘80s shades for a mere $12 and headed toward Planet.

Planet is located on north Front as well, across Princess Street. Their new location is quite large, housing eclectic everything—from jewelry to scarves, dresses to belts, purses to men’s wares, cups and plates, to cards and knick-knacks. The prices are always reasonable. For instance, a royal blue clutch, which I have been on the hunt for now for a good month, cost a mere $16. “This is going to look super with my new wedges!” I told Patricia, the proprietor, who was grinning from my delight.

“Hey, we might be in a recession, but at least you have a great clutch to carry,” she laughed.

“Yep, what’s $4-a-gallon gas prices compared to a cute purse?” I joked. After slight banter on the state of the economy—“I spent $50 at Harris Teeter last week and barely have anything in my refrigerator other than milk and eggs,” Patricia noted—we concurred it is what it is, but it wouldn’t stop us from spending in our local economy. As fate would have it, others were reacting in the same manner; Planet just so happened to be full with customers during my late-afternoon visit.

Clutch in hand, I headed north down Front Street. So far, I had spent $35 on accoutrements that, sure, I did not totally need—but who needs anything in America, if we really wanna take a philosophical look at it? Even our idea of “living in a shack” is upscale when compared to the rest of the world. I mean, here we are in a recession, and that many of us can actually strap down to afford $4-a-gallon gas implies more than words could ever say.

I stumbled upon Sambuca, an all-organic shop at the corner of Front and Chestnut, which sells all sorts of goods, from all-natural apparel to beauty products made organically. I also found out that Sambuca houses a yoga and pilates studio upstairs. As the instructor came down to refill her water, she and the clerk discussed the upcoming Spa Night that Sambuca will host on June 27th. Words that grasped my attention: “free,” “massage,” “chocolate” and “wine.”

As it turns out, the ever-so-genteel clerk handed me a flyer. “Please come. It’s free, and we’re serving wine and chocolate,” she smiled, a slight glimmer in her eye and a relaxed demeanor in her gait. She embodied what the store seemed to evoke: relaxation, wholesomeness, breezy.

“Oh, I most certainly will,” I responded, reading over the information, which includes massage, pilates and esthetic demos from 7-9pm. “You had me at ‘wine’ and ‘chocolate,’” I concluded.

I could feel my stomach growling at the mere thought of wine and chocolate. So without further ado, I decided to stop into Firebelly Lounge, as I knew they would have a plethora of daily specials that would go easy on my wallet. Seeing as it was early evening, rarely anyone was hustling to dinner, so the at-ease allure of the bar called my name. The bartender, ever-so-helpful, was chatting away with a patron, discussing their favorite brands of tequila—a specialty of Firebelly, which serves a variety of flavors.

“Yeah, I actually ate the worm, once,” the patron was saying.
“Yeah, well, I actually ate the scorpion at the bottom of Scorpion Mezcal, once,” the bartender responded, reminding me of the time I, too, ate charred scorpion at Halloween. At a party I was offered what I thought was something that looked like chocolate-shaped scorpions; I assumed it was all make-believe when the hostess approached me. “Charred scorpion?” she asked, with a devilish grin.

“Oh, sure!” I answered, playfully, popping it in my mouth before coughing robustly from what tasted like toxic poisoning. It was the first and will be the last of my exotic tastings.

“No tequila for me,” I responded, as the bar tender looked my way, pointing toward the bottle as if asking if I wanted a shot. “A simple Diet Coke will be fine.”

“You have to try the wings here,” the bar patron spoke over my shoulder. “Their sauce is the best in town.”

I felt awkwardly fascinated at his assumption that I was a newbie to the bar. My day downtown suddenly felt like a vacation, as I was expected to be a tourist, like the lady whose children were happily milling around Old Books, excitedly asking for a Thomas the Train book as a souvenir from their vacation. Or like the Norwegian at Planet who was asking a price on a necklace and earring set she adored. I played along.

“Great! I’ll have the wings, then,” I said, going with the patron’s suggestion, as he suggested how the Johnson-and-Wales-trained Firebelly owner should bottle the sauce and sell it locally.

“You’re not the first and you won’t be the last to suggest it,” the bartender responded.

Six delicious wings with homemade blue cheese, nonetheless, and two Diet Cokes later, I settled up with the bartender for a mere $3. “Your Coke was more than your wings,” he laughed.
“Now that’s a deal,” I replied.

“Yeah, we have great food specials everyday of the week, Monday through Friday, from dollar tacos to beer man taco specials,” he noted.

I mentally filed it away as “must revisit soon.” Firebelly nused to be a place I frequented often when live music took to its stage. However, many a year ago, a Hagatha-of-a-tenant moved in next door, shutting down the live music from her histrionic complaints. Still, Firebelly managed to trek on, focusing their bar atmosphere toward really great food. They’ve done a super job in keeping up with the likes of Wilmington. Now that Hagatha’s gone, perhaps live music is in their future again—who knows?

Walking back along Front Street, I decided my random Wednesday of shopping and dining need not be complete without a quick stop into Hell’s Kitchen for a cold brew. As the jukebox blared the Mamas and the Papas, I took a seat at the bar for a cold Pacifico, noting from the bulletin board outside that $5 car bombs were the special. “Just about as much as a tank of gas,” another patron cheersed, before chugging back the shot.

It seems to be on the minds of everyone, this gas thing. It’s giving us all permission to sound like bitchy, spoiled citizens at every turn. Yet, it should be perpetuating action—action against big-oil companies. Action against lobbyists. Action against our government lying in bed with them all. All it takes is a scaling back on fuel consumption and they’ll get the picture—even if it means having to bike to our favorite local bar for a car bomb, right?

I stuck with the Pacifico, noting Tuesday’s $1 tacos and a bill of live music worth any weekend stop. I yawned, and the bartender shot me a glance as if saying, “C’mon, ya just got here.” He smiled, knowingly, and brought my tab.

“Be sure to come back Saturday morning,” he suggested, knowing I would return. “Take advantage of the Farmer’s Market! Keeping it local is making better economical decisions.”
He was onto something.

SEVEN DAYS AND WAYS TO DISCOVER DOWNTOWN:
• Monday: Tours of Wilmington—Take a pick: Ghost Walk of Old Wilmington; Haunted Pub Crawl; Hollywood Location Walk; or Pirates and Unusual Tales Walk. Learn where the souls of Wilmington wander about through the historic district and all of its distinct stops, including many local haunts like Lula’s Pub downtown (locals haunt it to no avail, too, considering they have some of the best drink prices in town!). Or if ghosts aren’t tempting, then let tinseltown spread its magic, as tour guides lead groups through Wilmington to locations and film sets of many a great movie and TV shows filmed locally. Tickets are $10-$12 for most tours and can be purchased ahead of time at www.hauntedwilmington.com. Hours of tours vary, so plan accordingly.

• Tuesday: Bellamy Mansion Museum—A true structure evoking antebellum architecture, the Bellamy Mansion was built on the even of the Civil War. Tour the mansion and its grounds every hour on the hour between 10am and 5pm, Tuesday through Saturday, and 1pm to 5pm on Sundays. Tickets are $10 for adults, $4 for children ages 5-12 and group tours are discounted to $8 per person for 20 or more. 503 Market Street; (910) 251-3700

• Wednesday: After spending a day shopping along the cobblestone streets, plan an evening coasting along the Cape Fear River with a Sunset Dinner Cruise. Folks can board the Henrietta III at the dock on Water Street; the offices are at 101 South Water Street, #1. Narration will be given by the captain, as a buffet dinner is served. Tours take place every Wednesday for $39, June through August. They also offer other cruise options, from Saturday Dinner Dance Cruises to Thursday Redneck Wedding Comedy Cruises (with a barbecue buffet, nonetheless). Purchase tickets and check out the schedule at cfrboats.com.

• Thursday: What’s Southern living without a horse-drawn carriage ride? Allow Springbrook Farms to provide a relaxing afternoon of Wilmington education and sightseeing, as they take visitors around the city, touring the historic homes and structures that make up quaint downtown. The tickets are only $10-$12, and tours run daily every half hour from the foot of Market Street from 10am-10pm. No reservation is needed; however, if traveling with a large group, private services are offered. Simply call (910) 251-8889.

• Friday: A downtown visit isn’t complete until a night of theater is enjoyed. Beginning July 2nd and running through July 20th every Wednesday through Sunday is “Company,” put on by the locally hailed Opera House Theater Company. Thalian Hall will house the show in its massive historic theater, showcasing the glory of live local talent amongst the antebellum decor that has been bringing entertainment to Wilmington for more than 100 years. “Company” is a musical bringing to life the sweeping brilliance of a Stephen Sondheim score, including “Being Alive,” “The Ladies Who Lunch,” “Side by Side” and “You Could Drive a Person Crazy.” It’s confirmed bachelor Robert’s 35th birthday, and he’s still finding himself petrified of commitment. So he explores it through a variation of couples, vignette after vignette. Tickets to the show can be purchased by calling (910) 343-3664, with night performances at 8pm and Sunday matinee at 3pm.

• Saturday: Head downtown to Water Street to stroll through the vendors at the Riverfront Farmer’s Market. They have everything from local shrubs and flowers, to fruits and vegetables, to cattle and preserves. Live entertainment is always available, as is the decadence of fresh pies and bread from Great Harvest Bread Company and pickled everything from Angela’s. Arts and crafts are also for sale along the riverfront. It’s free to walk through and really allows visitors and locals a look into the fresh agriculture of our area.

• Sunday: Sundays are always easy to get into with a nice brunch (try Deluxe, Dixie Grill or The George) and then a trip across the river to the Battleship NC. Board the ship to see how the servicemen lived during a sea-bound era of war, where a large collection of documents, photographs, artwork, textiles, memorabilila and oral histories are available. Costs run from $6-$12, from children to adults, for self-guided tours. 1 Battleship Road; (910) 251-5797.
If staying on the opposite side of the bridge is more appealing, check out the Cape Fear Museum’s latest OCEAN exhibition shown in conjunction with UNCW Center for Marine Science. It’s interactive, cutting-edge and more than appropos to participate during summer. Open from 1-5pm, admission is $3-$6, with free admission the first Sunday of every month for New Hanover residents. 814 Market Street; (910) 798-4350.