Nostalgia’s A Beach…Shop
Written by Shelly Ray (@glitterpenperspective)
Image courtesy of Cocoa Beach Pier
It’s Memorial Day weekend 2025, and a piece of my inner child is on a mission: to find the perfect puka shell necklace on my Floridian vacation. I drag my very patient, very supportive fiancé from one beach souvenir shop to the next, fully aware they all sell the same junk.
But I don’t care. I know exactly what I’m getting myself into, and I’m thrilled to go into every single one. Each shop feels like a mini time machine back to my childhood: tie-dye shirts with trashy sayings, hibiscus-print flip-flops waiting to fade, circular fans buzzing in every corner, trying to keep the thick humidity out of my salt-water hair.
Even as an adult, summer takes me back. As I stroll down the aisles, I’m suddenly thirteen again—watching Life with Ryan on MTV, drenching my hair in Sun-In in an attempt to look like Kristin Cavallari, blowing my allowance at PacSun on Billabong perfume, convinced that skater boys, surfer girls, and shark tooth jewelry held the key to cool. Yesterday’s key to cool was being unlocked right in front of my eyes. I’m almost certain the merchandise in these shops hasn’t been updated since 2008. It’s exactly how I remember it.
After examining every“ It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere” shot glass and“ What Would Jimmy Buffett Do?” T-shirt, we found it: my perfect puka shell necklace at Alvin’s Island. Every Floridian—local and tourist alike—knows Alvin’s, a state-based beach gift shop. From Pensacola to Panama City, Alvin’s has you covered: airbrushed boardwalk tees, delicate glass alligator and flamingo figurines, overpriced coconut-scented tanning lotion, and dolphin-printed boogie boards that probably haven’t been bought since the Obama administration. The necklace I landed my eyes on was tacky, cheap, and absolutely perfect. I paid in cash, of course.
In the car, I impatiently slipped it around my neck, grinning like the coolest kid in the seventh grade. And then it snapped. Puka shells spilled across the passenger seat like a pirate ship in a glass bottle kit. My fiancé and I burst into laughter until our stomachs hurt.
It wasn’t just funny. It was familiar. That exact thing happened to me as a kid. I begged my parents for a mood ring at a beachy little gift shop, then it slipped off in the Atlantic later that day. Chasing summer magic, only to lose it just as fast.
But maybe that’s the whole thing about summer. It’s always a little too short. A little too sweet. After all, nostalgia’s a beach.
Still, I got what I came for. Not the necklace, maybe. But the feeling. That sticky, snow-cone-colored feeling. A feeling that even my mood ring that’s still lost in the Atlantic Ocean couldn’t quite put a finger on.
And in the end, isn’t that what we’re all chasing?
