Rows of skittled colored cupcakes draw you into the kitchenette, the redolence of flour and milk scent the air. Random quirks idle about, cajoling you to take a step closer for further inspection, and upon then, pander to your curious fascination. There are little bizzare creatures hidden in awkward corners; misplaced junk, items lost and found, wooden frames and figurines against soiled brick walls. Clothing hang by settees, a magazine rack against the wall under bulbs of lanterns. Color splashes and light strobes run about the ceilings and around wooden furnitures, like element of offbeat decors growing into the 90’s but stuck inbetween then and whenever. The weight of stepping back out into the bustling street is like leaving memories of wonderful days in a jar of bygones.
W for Wonders.
A wonderful Sunday @ WonderMilk
Your eyes widen, at times you squint but you always always do a double take.
Walking into WonderMilk is like visiting an aunt stuck in the 60’s. Vintage-esque interiors with whimsical frills. There’s a wooden carving of a deer by the shelf and remnants of children grown and gone. Ttrinkets in small metal buckets stored in open shelves, as if to coax your inner tyke and spark conversations of “Remember when…?”.
If that tasted like verbal chuck then you might rather settle with some quick snapshots;
a visual explanation if you will, of WonderMilk’s version of Disney on Acid.