An antiques dealership for the things that fell out of time. Salvaged relics, orphaned heirlooms, and beautiful junk of indeterminate origin — abducted from estate sales, returned to you.
French gilt mantel clock that allegedly runs three minutes fast on purpose. Original owner unknown, last seen arguing with it.
Beveled Art Deco vanity mirror with a hairline crack shaped suspiciously like a constellation. Reflects you slightly too honestly.
Bakelite tube radio that only picks up two stations: one playing big band, one that's just breathing. We don't ask questions.
A ring of nine iron skeleton keys. None of them open anything we own. One of them is warm to the touch. Sold as a set.
Stoneware vessel of confident proportions and zero documentation. Could be a planter. Could be funerary. Best not to fill it.
Maritime telescope with a fogged lens. Points itself slightly upward when set down. Comes with a worn leather case and zero warranty.
Carved oak armchair with an unreasonably comfortable lean. People tend to tell it things. Reupholstered once, in a hurry.
Hand-inked map of a coastline that matches no known coastline. Framed. The cartographer signed it "trust me."
Officially, we deal in unidentified antique phenomena — things too strange to date, too beautiful to skip, too haunted to keep. But between us? They're just unidentified found objects. Every piece arrives without a story, so you get to make one up.
We comb estate sales, defunct theaters, and the back rooms of people's grandmothers. If it makes us tilt our heads, it gets beamed up.
Each object is photographed, lightly interrogated, and assigned an honest description. We never invent provenance — we just admit we don't have it.
It goes in the hangar. One of one, mostly. When it sells, it's gone — these things don't come back twice.
Wrapped, padded, and shipped anywhere a saucer can reach. Local pickup welcome at the studio by appointment.
Questions about a piece? Want first contact on new arrivals? Send a transmission. We answer most messages within a couple of Earth days.