As you can see, this shopfront is a mishmash of previous owners. It’s like every one of them was part dog, such was their rabid desire to leave their mark on the place. First off there’s the faint Snapple logo, suggesting it was once a mixed business. Then bookending that there’s what looks like twin stop signs, the most likely explanation for which is it once sold bargains (perhaps even in its current incarnation), and the signs begged passers-by to ‘STOP!’ and possibly ‘L@@K!’ at them. Looking further down we can see what might have once said ‘cards’, indicating the possible existence of a newsagent. The red letters at the bottom are a bit of a mystery, though – as is the seemingly discarded air conditioner which appears to have fallen off the wall. Whatever the case may be, what’s impossible to ignore is that today the shop is T.I.M. All Mobile Needs.
T.I.M.bo claims to be open six days a week from 11am to 6pm, so I’m guessing I went on the one day it’s closed. Google Street view shows the same closed rollerdoor, so the only explanation is that Google Street View’s car drove past on the same one day three years ago. I think it’s a bit rich to advertise that you provide ALL MOBILE NEEDS while at the same time presenting a mascot who clearly hasn’t a need in the world. Even the rollerdoor handle is strategically placed to satisfy certain needs. Thoughtful.
Yes, I know it’s another laundry, but shops like these need their due. Besides, this one put more effort into its appearance than did the last one, so its failure and eventual closure is that much more tragic.
Going by the font it’d have to be 60s-70s, and it seems to have had a seven digit phone number so it lasted awhile. Even more interesting is that underneath the colourful Enfield Laundry paint job, you can see that the site was once a produce and firewood store.
The Strathfield Council seems to have given up hope that the shop will ever be used again, and has put this bench across the door as a barricade. Presumably, this took place after council gave every single household in the vicinity their own washing machine.
I love that ‘ice cold’ font. It’s so effective. I can get a strong visual sense of just how ice cold those drinks will be, and how refreshing that temperature would be to me on a hot summer’s day. But you have to consider, the logic of the ice cold drinks font dictates that that fancy font for ‘continental’ was intended by the designer to be somehow indicative of the continental experience. Strangely, it works. Deli meat seems so much more worldly when it’s preceded by that font.
It appears that what happened here is during the mixed business boom of the late 80s-early 90s, what was once a sole deli saw in the ailing laundromat an opportunity to branch out, and seized it. The laundry was absorbed and the deli offered a literal mixed business experience to the people of Enfield. It probably even had a Street Fighter II machine. But when the boom died and Burwood Westfield was renovated, the only customers were those getting off the bus of an afternoon, and you can’t pay the rent with profits from a few ice cold cans and packets of chips. Strange that they didn’t remove the Enfield Laundry sign on the front window, though.
Incidentally, this shop sits along Coronation Parade, Enfield, which we’ll look at in the near future…
Mixed businesses are the street shop equivalent of duplex homes. Covered now as it is in cheap phone recharge offers, this place no longer seems as ‘high class’ as Old Man Petersen once boasted. I wonder if Lebara would let you keep a six digit number?
This place, beside the Norfolk Hotel on Cleveland Street, Surry Hills, has been closed for a good long while. It’s hard to say exactly when it closed from what we can see. There’s a development proposal, so there might not be much time left for it, either. What amazes me is just how much you could get done at a place like this back when it was actually open and functioning. You could get your hair done while waiting for your clothes to be dry cleaned, AND buy a gift for your significant other and toys for the kids. And cigarettes. They all sold cigarettes back then.
Along the long and lonely Kimberley Road, Hurstville sit numerous husks of shops. A quick search on the amazing Trove reveals that today’s entry on Past Lives was once ‘Trinder’s Produce Store’, and was used as a voting location from 1930 to 1948.
Built in 1926, no evidence remains of Trinder’s Produce Store. The shopfronts appear to have been out of business for years.
The awning reads ‘Frontier Signs’, but the sign itself has been fractured.
Oddly, there’s a very faint but still visible company name beneath Frontier Signs. It’s hard to read, but it certainly doesn’t say ‘Frontier Signs’. You’d think a sign company letting something like that happen would be like Dulux selling paint in Berger cans.