Delphi
Delphi is the kind of place where the more things change, the more they stay the same.
I grew up in Delphi, and I have witnessed a tremendous amount of change. Yet, really, it seems more accurate to say that the town has gone through a… distillation, if you will.
Over the years, almost everything practical has been siphoned off, so that all we are left with is quaint, charming, trendy, and impractical. (Although my definition of “impractical” might be different than that of the town’s ardent, upscale shoppers.)
I am an aging woman who remembers multiple hardware, grocery, drug, and clothing stores dotting the basically two block business district of Delphi. These core establishments have all pretty much gone by the wayside, only to be superseded by a series of more upscale, trendy, and impractical enterprises which seem to come and go at a fairly high speed.
If I want to buy a hammer or some nails, I cannot do so in Delphi.
If I want to buy some new underpants or plain cotton socks, I cannot do so in Delphi.
If I want to buy a pair of tennis shoes, I cannot do so in Delphi.
But if I want some beaded jewelry made by Peruvian orphans, an all body massage, or a Land Rover, I am in luck.
While I might be hard-pressed when it comes to finding a newspaper or gassing up my vehicle, I can at least stoke up on espressos, lattes, baguettes, and gourmet chocolates; get my poodle groomed and pedicured; and my own hair streaked and coiffed at a mind-boggling array of specialty cafes, shops, bistros, and salons.
These days it is so simple to order things online, or trek over to a nearby mall, strip mall, Wal-Mart, Sam’s Club, or Costco and load up my SUV with all the practical crap I might desire.
And I would be saving so much money in doing so!
Delphi is where I do my “special” shopping.
Where I hang out for hours on end at Starbucks or the new French bakery, “Petit4.”
You will notice almost immediately that there are a plethora of establishments with French-sounding names in Delphi, because, as we all know, French is just so… sophisticated and progressive.
I can get the latest little trendy outfit at “Hot Couture,” a massage or session in the tanning bed at “C’est la Vie,” and yummy treats for Fido and Fifi at “Bone Apetit!”
Don’t be fooled! Delphi is a real family affair. My preschooler can take gourmet cooking classes at “Madeleine’s,” while I accessorize for the next big charity do down the street at “Bling!” My teenaged daughter can get her one-of-a-kind prom dress custom made at “The Fashion Plate,” while my son (or husband) can find the latest high end sports cards at “Box Seats.” Gourmet, trendy, trés chic! Delphi does it all.
Want a gallon of milk, though, and you will have to trek down the road a good mile and a half to the local Giant Eagle.
Delphi is a village.
Delphi is sophisticated.
Delphi is upscale.
Delphi is home, sweet, home.
And then there is always that blasted horn atop the borough building ready to blare out: “Emergency!” “Fire!” “911!” It is loud. It is abrasive. It is jarring and out-of-place. It is also one of the few remaining traditions, aside from the Memorial Day Parade and “Light Up Delphi Night” that I can remember from time immemorial. That horn is an oddity, an anachronism, a pain in the ass, if you ask me. But don’t ever say anything negative about the Horn of Delphi! Oh, no!
Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.
I grew up in Delphi, and I have witnessed a tremendous amount of change. Yet, really, it seems more accurate to say that the town has gone through a… distillation, if you will.
Over the years, almost everything practical has been siphoned off, so that all we are left with is quaint, charming, trendy, and impractical. (Although my definition of “impractical” might be different than that of the town’s ardent, upscale shoppers.)
I am an aging woman who remembers multiple hardware, grocery, drug, and clothing stores dotting the basically two block business district of Delphi. These core establishments have all pretty much gone by the wayside, only to be superseded by a series of more upscale, trendy, and impractical enterprises which seem to come and go at a fairly high speed.
If I want to buy a hammer or some nails, I cannot do so in Delphi.
If I want to buy some new underpants or plain cotton socks, I cannot do so in Delphi.
If I want to buy a pair of tennis shoes, I cannot do so in Delphi.
But if I want some beaded jewelry made by Peruvian orphans, an all body massage, or a Land Rover, I am in luck.
While I might be hard-pressed when it comes to finding a newspaper or gassing up my vehicle, I can at least stoke up on espressos, lattes, baguettes, and gourmet chocolates; get my poodle groomed and pedicured; and my own hair streaked and coiffed at a mind-boggling array of specialty cafes, shops, bistros, and salons.
These days it is so simple to order things online, or trek over to a nearby mall, strip mall, Wal-Mart, Sam’s Club, or Costco and load up my SUV with all the practical crap I might desire.
And I would be saving so much money in doing so!
Delphi is where I do my “special” shopping.
Where I hang out for hours on end at Starbucks or the new French bakery, “Petit4.”
You will notice almost immediately that there are a plethora of establishments with French-sounding names in Delphi, because, as we all know, French is just so… sophisticated and progressive.
I can get the latest little trendy outfit at “Hot Couture,” a massage or session in the tanning bed at “C’est la Vie,” and yummy treats for Fido and Fifi at “Bone Apetit!”
Don’t be fooled! Delphi is a real family affair. My preschooler can take gourmet cooking classes at “Madeleine’s,” while I accessorize for the next big charity do down the street at “Bling!” My teenaged daughter can get her one-of-a-kind prom dress custom made at “The Fashion Plate,” while my son (or husband) can find the latest high end sports cards at “Box Seats.” Gourmet, trendy, trés chic! Delphi does it all.
Want a gallon of milk, though, and you will have to trek down the road a good mile and a half to the local Giant Eagle.
Delphi is a village.
Delphi is sophisticated.
Delphi is upscale.
Delphi is home, sweet, home.
And then there is always that blasted horn atop the borough building ready to blare out: “Emergency!” “Fire!” “911!” It is loud. It is abrasive. It is jarring and out-of-place. It is also one of the few remaining traditions, aside from the Memorial Day Parade and “Light Up Delphi Night” that I can remember from time immemorial. That horn is an oddity, an anachronism, a pain in the ass, if you ask me. But don’t ever say anything negative about the Horn of Delphi! Oh, no!
Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.
posted by delta at 5:16 PM
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