That’s not Randy Regier’s approach.
But then, he’s not just a business owner. First — and foremost — he’s an artist.
Part nostalgic, part futuristic, the brightly lit shop full of shiny silver toys beckons passers-by to stop in, but they can’t.
“It’s like a ‘Twilight Zone‘ episode in a toy store that no one ever goes in and no one shows up,” Regier says.
He could go into great lengths, he says, about what it all means. That would spoil the fun, though.
Regier’s thought is “the idea of discovering something.” It’s an experience, and one that he doesn’t want to prejudice.
“It’s not so much not wanting to talk about it,” he says. Talking, though, “can take all the mystery from it.”
“It can be sort of mythical and mystical and bizarre and weird.”
The toys are made from things such as old toasters and Electrolux vacuum parts.
A London writer who wrote of Regier’s work examined it for his ability to create desire. Shoppers may want to come in, but can’t.
There’s no use advising Regier on another business model.
“I have business friends who have tried that,” he says. “I’ll just say they’ve given up on me.
“My business model is, ‘Good luck with that.’ ”