By: Jaclyn Chen <[email protected]>

A crisp Saturday afternoon opens the doors of the small shops and art galleries that line Main Street and Rangeline Road, the center of Carmel’s self-professed Arts and Design District. One in particular, The Little Shop, owned and operated by Kim Hajduk, has a simply natural charm. This consignment shop has seen every Saturday for 26 years now and has developed a niche in Carmel’s downtown.

“Our store is kind of like a statue in town. We’ve seen so many people come in here over the years, and we just talk to everybody. It’s kind of like that ‘Cheers’ motto; we’re a place ‘where everybody knows your name,’” Hajduk said.

Unfortunately for Hajduk, the small house in which her shop inhabits will soon have a name plate. Hajduk said that for the past year now, she’s been on a month-to-month notification under the new landlord, Indianapolis-based Hearthview Residential, but she said she does plan to move out by October’s end.

There is debate regarding why many of the older stores along Main Street are closing. Hajduk said there are plans to knock down her shops and others near it to construct new buildings to match the architecture of the store fronts on the opposite side of the street, but according to Hearthview, there are no plans set in stone for the property. Partner Jim Thomas declined to comment as to why the company asked Hajduk to move out but said that the reasons did not include an “imminent demolition.”

Recent additions of brick sidewalks, arches and J. Seward Johnson public sculptures show the District’s desire to create an artsy feel in an otherwise burgeoning city. The attempt is admirable, but there exists an irony that can’t be overlooked. No city can artificially create charm; charm comes naturally with history and tradition. The departure of the older stores leaves a sprinkling of that history and tradition, but it’s trapped under a veneer of corporate planning.

Many Little Shop patrons stop in to find something unique; it stocks everything from Target-brand to Escada. Steeped in tradition, the house was first occupied by Elizabeth Peele, the woman credited with naming Carmel. Hajduk, the third owner of the shop, has operated it for about six to seven years.

Although the concept of arts and design is commendable, the shutting down of stores that are the heart of Carmel’s downtown is not fair to area residents and store owners. Regardless of the stirring debate, this trend can’t be ignored. For Hajduk, her store represents a common thread among small shops, the work of labor and love: labor on the days when construction slows foot traffic and revenue and love on the days when the rapport with a customer is so great that she is invited into her home.

On its Web site, the District says that it is “located in the heart of Old-Town Carmel,” but much of the old town has already left. The architecture of current buildings looks out of place, as if it belongs in upstate New York, not a Midwestern suburb.

Meanwhile, the two styles of store fronts on Main Street between Rangeline and the Monon represent the polarity of the District. Many of the new shops carry a unique style, but the District detracts from both old and new by somehow concluding that the two can’t coincide. Merging the shops, not polarizing them to opposite sides of the street, would have been the favorable route. The District now displays an odd co-existence, stuck somewhere in between where it once was and where it strives to be.

Perhaps the District attempts to emulate Zionsville downtown’s brick-paved roads or Broad Ripple’s magnetic nightlife, but it ends up as a line of stores all-too-similar. The newer shops do not have the economic effect of a large store, yet they lose the definitive texture of Old Town Carmel. In addition, recent construction punishes all the businesses, limiting foot traffic and sometimes stopping it all together. And don’t even mention the parking; the task is one so tedious and frustrating that many have chosen to not visit the District on several occasions.

What the District should aim for is a quaint commonplace for families to spend Saturday afternoons, grab a burger and stroll through the shops. And perhaps that’s what a growing city like Carmel needs. Even with that in mind, the District has not measured up to the perceived needs of area residents by closing down the true shops that are the heart of the old town.

For Hajduk, she said that a side business will sustain her and she can donate the leftover clothing, but her shoppers will be hard-missed. “You meet the most wonderful people here,” she said. “That’s what this place really is about. You realize that everyone shares the same bottom line, the same common ground. In today’s hectic, fast-paced society, people just want to stop and talk.”

The Little Shop has tried to scope out other locations but to no avail. Patrons sure will miss its leftover July 4 ribbons, creaking floorboard and natural charm. Who knows, maybe the spirit of Elizabeth Peele will emerge with something similar later on.