Downtown Palmer Sundries Shop Closing

Becoming Nonessential

Denise Statz started the store in Dillingham in 1988, a small shop that was a unique alternative to the grocery store in town.

“It was never a practical business,” Statz says.

But it didn’t start as NonEssentials. The original name for the store isn’t as important as the way it gained its permanent name. Statz says an elder from the Dillingham area, Elmer Smith, stopped by not long after she had opened the store in Dillingham. He spent the day there, looking at what was on the shelves and sampling ice cream Statz had made. After hours of chatting, Statz says she finally asked, “Mr. Smith, is there something I’m missing? You’ve spent the whole day with me.”

Statz says Smith looked around at the items on the shelves. Statz, a former healthcare worker, had had a job that was important, he said. He wanted to visit her store and see what had replaced that community-focused work. “And I get here and I look around and it’s all just a bunch of nonessentials,” Statz quoted him as saying. She says later that day she asked a friend to stop by and help her flip her newly purchased sign over and rename the store.

“I’ve never regretted that we did that,” Statz says. “Because the people who knew me, who knew the store—they knew.”

It was always about more than what was on the shelves. As the store website says, “When you walk into NonEssentials, you are immediately struck by the ‘I want that, no I need that’ vibe. Walking around every corner is a delight to the senses: mouth-watering olive oils and vinegars, delectable chocolates, must-have soaps and lotions, and an endless array of loose-leaf teas that leave you transfixed, wondering at the potential flavors. If ever there was a store the promoted hygge, it is NonEssentials located in downtown Palmer.”

“Hygge” (pronounced “her-gah”) refers to the Danish concept of coziness and comfort.

Nelson has her own funny story about running a shop called NonEssentials. During the COVID-19 pandemic, “nonessential” became a buzzword: nonessential workers stayed home; essential workers kept working. National media outlets stumbled upon the store’s website and called Nelson to discuss how, as one reporter put it, “specifically unfortunate” her shop’s name was.

“I capitalized on it,” Nelson says, laughing. “I ordered so many beautiful masks.”

Shop of Delights

After opening the shop in Dillingham, Statz and her family moved first to Kodiak then to Seward and Nome. During that time, she says she would go to villages and hold house parties, similar to how Pampered Chef or Avon operated. They were cozy events, with homemade brownies or some other treat, tea, and camaraderie, she says. There were also mail-order customers. Friends hosting a baby shower or other event would ask her to send a box of goodies for the special day and she would, wrapping delights in pretty paper and mailing them off.

“My whole life, I wanted pretty things, bright things, collectible things. I like a comfortable bed, I like a good towel, pretty bowl to put a fruit in. Everything I did [at the store], I think I was a little selfish—I wanted to surround myself with things that I thought other people would like. Then I wanted to surround myself with people I liked,” Statz says.

That feeling of being surrounded by the delightful is the essence of NonEssentials, in whatever form it has existed.

When the family settled in Palmer, Statz was excited to have a storefront again, and there was a lot happening in downtown Palmer: Fireside Books opened, a few years later came the local foods restaurant Turkey Red, and several other stores opened in the renovated Downtown Palmer Plaza. In the 2000s there was a flurry of renovations on Alaska Street, Palmer’s version of Main Street. Economics, along with a united business community, worked in NonEssentials’ favor, Statz says.

Statz was a significant part of that united business community. She championed Palmer’s weekly summer market, Friday Fling, and helped create and secure participation in events like Cash Mob, a monthly outing where shoppers were encouraged to “buy local, meet locals, eat, drink, and be local,” and Who Let the Girls Out, a women-oriented shopping weekend event that involved deals, giveaways, demonstrations, and live music. Both Cash Mob and Who Let the Girls Out were geared to help Palmer’s brick-and-mortar businesses during the downtime between holiday shopping and summer tourism.

Nelson says of Statz, “She was a champion at rallying the town. I adored her, and I adored the store. That’s how we got to know each other.”

When Statz decided it was time to step away from NonEssentials in 2019, Nelson jumped in. In the six years she’s run NonEssentials, she and her daughter and business partner, Heidi Sena, have put their own stamp on the business, working to celebrate “Pi Day” on March 14 by baking “pie after pie,” along with extra pies at Christmas.

They carried on the warmth of the store. Customers and vendors have become like family—a relationship that Nelson says she has felt particularly strongly since announcing in February that the store would close.

“I have loved the experience of having the shop. I have loved the relationships that we’ve built. I’m passionate about the products that we carry,” Nelson says. “That really has brought a lot of joy, being around people who might be down or who need a sounding board; the way I was able to talk with people who needed it or give a hug or a cup of coffee and a warm bowl of soup—I’ve been able to do those things. It’s a joy beyond money. People think you’re in the business for money, but there’s so much more to it than money.”

Driving Onward

But money is undeniably a factor in the ability to keep going. After a few solid years, business has been trending downward.

Nelson says she and many business owners in Palmer use Square to process credit card transactions. The company tracks sales, allowing users to see data such as whether sales in a particular month are up or down over last year. She compared notes with some other business owners, she says.

“All of us were down by the same percentages,” Nelson says. “It eases the blow—I’m not alone. But still, I’m short.”

For the past two years, Nelson has worked as a school bus driver to offset the first-quarter slowdown.

“It turns out I love it more than I ever thought I would,” Nelson says. Her husband jokes that she gets to be a grandma all day long, she says.

“It’s really fun to have a little routine with them,” Nelson says of the children on her route. “Their love of life reminds you there is a lot to love about life.”

Driving the school bus—and the fact that when the bus turns off, she’s done—helped her realize how much financial stress she was dealing with. Therapy helped her see it, too. She’s looking forward to closing this chapter, as bittersweet as it is. She’s looking forward to visiting family Outside and being a tour bus driver this summer.

“It was a beautiful season, and I will always cherish it. But I am also feeling the relief from the stress of the financial aspect. I just need to be responsible for little old me,” Nelson says.