Finding Soul in a Store

by Rachel Renbarger (United States of America)

Making a local connection Italy

With a profound, eager gaze, she smiled at me and said, “Value comes from people, not things. I strive to find a soul in this business.” This is Meri. Meri has lived in Florence for as long as she can remember. With a proud posture change and a gentle smile, Meri was glad to explain that she was a true Florentine. Wandering through the streets of Firenze lead me to new places that revealed treasures of the past and present. Meri owns a few of these places, in particular, a small vintage thrift store. I entered the cool, welcoming atmosphere, and took in the warm, bright colors of shoes and purses. Every inch of “Rrose Sélavy”, Via San Gallo 111/r, was artistic and had character, and was not set at a high price. Each quaint commodity had a unique story of its own. The heart of the thrift store emulated the heart of Meri. From the moment I walked in the store, she greeted me and made kind conversation. I was comfortable and at ease. Her tight red curls bounced around her forehead and her generous smile floated about the store, laughing with costumers and exchanging jokes with her coworkers. She knew the way her coworkers worked and graciously handled their achievements and struggles. They shared stories of mistakes they made and laughed at the imperfections that life threw their way. There was an obvious community that came from this place. From a photographer modeling a dress, to a dancer showing off a purse, I had never felt so invited to be a part of the lives of people I had just met. Three years ago, this enchanting environment did not exist in Florence. Three years ago, was when Meri decided to change her life and establish this shop. Prompted by a neighborhood art project, Meri wanted to create a meeting place for locals to share their art, talk about other artists, and simply have a place to come and understand the lives of the people around them. Today, each piece in Meri’s store is used as her way of doing just that. “When I started, I was interested in understanding what art can change, not only with words and thinking, but in the concrete, in real life. The things in the store speak without languages, so we can learn things without a book,” she said. She went on to talk about how her store was intended to be anything but touristy. I relished her authenticity. Two nuns skirted in and out asking for directions. Meri pointed out the streets and explained the way. She turned back to me and chuckled, “I don’t have dresses for them.” I left the shop that day beaming, feeling as though I had discovered a secret prize: a community of ambitious artists and friends led by a humble dreamer. For briefer than I desired, I was a part of that community. I had entered an unfamiliar world, and left a home. It was a home that had value because of the people there, because of Meri's soul. (This is a story I wrote and was published in Italy's "Blending" Magazine. I did not plagiarize this story, as it is my own original piece.)