Tucked into a quiet residential block of Center City, Halloween's treasures wait to be discovered. The outside may look unassuming, but your local mall's Zales has got nothing on this one-of-a-kind jewelry shop, so named for owner Henri David's favorite day of the year. Relying exclusively on word of mouth, Halloween doesn't advertise, nor does it even have a sign outside. Only a doorbell ring will gain you entrance. If you're still holding out for an invitation to join a secret society, Halloween may just be the next best thing.
The inside looks like a cross between Miss Havisham's attic and the room where Queen Elizabeth keeps her crown jewels. Dreamy Sinatra tunes lead you further into the illusion, making it hard to believe that 10 minutes ago you boarded a grimy SEPTA trolley. Baubles shine from every corner, and when you catch a glimpse of your feet in one of the many antique mirrors placed throughout the store, you'll cringe at how shabby your beat-up sneakers look among all the finery. David, who's been in love with the jewelry biz since age 12, is known in Philadelphia for his annual Halloween ball and his mustache. He gets his hand-made pieces and raw materials from locales like Thailand and Australia by way of China, while the oriental rugs and Egyptian cases that dot the store are also relics of his travels.
The sensory overload won't last long because, before you know it, one of the store's jewelry connoisseurs will be at your beck and call, guiding you toward dangling trumpet earrings for your band geek best friend, a gaudy broach for your Grandma or the tennis bracelet of your wildest dreams. If you see something that you like, but want it in gold instead of silver, with garnets instead of sapphires, the jewelry artisans of Halloween will work with you to design your ideal trinket. The same goes for those favorite earrings you lost the match to: they'll recreate it for you. This is done on an individual basis. Says David, "We don't do catalogs. That's a bad word here." Prices start reasonably (the earrings cost $24), but as you make your way toward the hundred-year-old antiques and glittering diamond rings, you might be afraid to ask.
Halloween takes jewelry and handcraftsmanship seriously, and with no website, no catalog and no e-mail (they don't even accept credit cards), you'll just have to see for yourself.
