L'Usine

The historical landscape of Menton seemed immutable. Nowhere in townscapes from the midday Basilique ring of bells can one walk by the beach without being struck by the beauty of the old town with its 16th-century architecture. Even in its new town, Menton feels like a bubble wherein modernity is far-reaching. Yet, the new Cap D’ail style beach clubs and current constructions on the beachfront point to a new direction, one where Menton slowly tries to associate itself with the modern and luxurious audience of Monaco and St Tropez. Amidst Menton's path to total commodification, a little store is at the intersection of Rue de Brea and the Prom. Du Val de Menton protects the key to the authentic Côte d’Azur charm. 

Located at 3 Rue de Général Gallienie is one of Menton's most precious boutiques, L’Usine. Based on an old factory, as its name suggests, L’Usine is one of Menton's biggest antique stores. Amid its multiple floors, rooms, and charming garden, the family-owned business has cultivated a collection of regional items, from home decor to jewelry, that exist as an archive of a Côte d’Azur that is long lost. One does not need pictures to understand the originality and authenticity of life in the region 40 years ago; the various sofas, cutlery and collectibles of L’Usine tell the story of the region. They put into perspective how much this historical town has shifted.

Even its wide door does not do justice to the magnitude of the store. Its side doors and stairs are dizzying and dazzling. One could spend hours going through the collection of objects on the various floors, observing from the smallest pins to the largest human-sized dolls. 

The owner, Allo, allowed us to carry out an interview with him. He has owned the business for 25 years with his wife, Michelle. He calls himself a proud collector, and before opening L’Usine, he traveled around Europe to acquire different pieces. It was then, almost at the turn of the century, when the couple got the opportunity to buy the estate and open a store. In harmony with an antique store, the place had to undergo a process of renovations and cleanings before they could open it to the public. There were simply too many residues. After everything was clean, Allo told me they had to buy and fill the rooms “little by little.”

I carried out the interview accompanied by journalistic partner Anna Halpern, who meticulously asked Allo if all objects were from Menton itself. He confirmed that, indeed, a good part of the objects were from Menton, and while walking through the store, one repeatedly finds posters and objects that herald our town and its beauty. He assures, though, that most objects are from the Alpes-Maritimes region. He claimed that Menton, Nice and Cannes were all cities that received a great influx of tourists and immigrants in the last few centuries, who brought with them specific objects and furniture that now are crucial pieces of his enormous collection.

Allo points out that the town is changing. He is not talking about the construction of the new beaches but rather about their taste. His selling point was classical furniture, sofas, closets and grandiose cabinets from the early 20th century. Now, people want a different sort of vintage. He has sold significantly more modernist furniture, pieces from the '60s or '80s, with considerably fewer sales on early 20th-century objects. 

His audience has also shifted. It is not the local Mentonnaise population that offers him the biggest source of income, despite an occasional SciencesPo student looking for a poster or a lamp, but rather tourists. He estimated that 10% of his clientele is Mentonnaise, 10% is Italian, and the rest are composed of transient Americans, Germans, Scandinavians, and more recently, Australians. He is not quite sure if the change in taste is also related to the change in clientele—in his opinion the Italians had the most dramatic shift of taste, but he has shown himself flexible and ready to adapt his store to the needs of his clients.

Allo offered us a store tour, pointing to particular objects that interested him: dutch barrels, 20th-century possessions and even what he called “bizarre stuff.” Anna made a point about how the things he had there were simply mesmerizing and shockingly interesting. Allo, after a quick laugh, says, “Yes, but this is what I am looking for. That is what I aim to sell. It's no easy find, but we work!” He presents objects that remind us of the diversity of the South of France beyond the coast and even elements from the neighboring Italian north and Spanish Catalonia. 

A conversation with the store owners has led me to become further disbelieved. How was it possible that a couple could find so many particular objects and foster such a big collection of antiquities? When asked how he sees these things, Allo quickly responds with a simple “Je me lève tôt,” “I wake up early.” Every Sunday, when the store is closed, he wakes up at 4 am and ventures throughout the region to find objects for his collection in a tireless search. “It's not easy to find this stuff,” he told me, “it is easier to buy old furniture than to find something truly interesting.” 

Throughout the years, scavenging his products has been the most challenging aspect of his job. “The provision,” he puts it, “is the hardest part. It's more difficult to find stuff than to sell it.” He also discusses the prices of his stuff, saying that he has to put a price that gives him a profit, and some things end up being more expensive than expected. Yet, “it is not close to being more expensive than the boutique stores in Paris,” he says. “Those are a steal. You have to put it in perspective.”

My final question was the most difficult to answer. “What is your favorite piece?” It took him just a few seconds to answer, “The big window in the showcase!” He took us outside the store to look at the said mirror. It is a grandiose piece, covered by crystals, and so mesmerizing one has to see it for themselves to understand why Allo felt so attached to it. Finally, he told us: “When I find stuff like this, I am happy.”