Fairfield's Vintage Dark Side: Magical Mystery Tour and Trident Records

If Fairfield was a present, it would be a square box wrapped in pretty paper and tied with a satiny bow. If it was a cupcake, it would be vanilla with fluffy frosting and rainbow sprinkles. No doubt about it, Fairfield has a reputation as being a place filled with sunshine and roses, a town where people lounge at the beach, shop downtown and have barbeques in grassy green back yards.

But hold on tight, because you're about to learn about Fairfield's vintage dark side, a past filled with drugs and rock 'n roll. If you lived here in the '70s and '80s, you know what I'm talking about - the two stores that made every mother of a teenager shudder - Magical Mystery Tour and Trident Records.

Across the street from the (then) Fairfield Store, in one of the small storefronts, was a shop presumably named after the Beatles' album of the same name: Magical Mystery Tour. If memory serves correctly, the sign was hand-painted and all swirly. Stepping in, you were immediately engulfed by the overpowering scent of incense. Or, as local legend had it, pot.

"It was my first smell of marijuana," said Susan Siverson. She, like others in their pre-teen years, believed the place reeked from illicit weed. How was one to know any differently? Between the incense, soaps, candles and oils that the shop sold, the olfactory assault could've originated from anything, really. The store sold things that were wildly popular at the time: Jewelry, Rubik's Cubes, and stickers. Oh, the stickers. Huge rolls of stickers hung on the wall and you'd choose a small square of them. There were rainbows and hearts, Garfield and Smurfs, scratch 'n sniff stickers and puffy stickers, tiny little stickers and big giant ones.

"I remember buying stickers with unicorns and Pegasus," said Meredith Santarcangelo. "And the clothes. They had a lot of British T-shirts, like 'Frankie Says Relax.' "

My experience with Magical Mystery Tour was relegated to a sole visit, in which I bought a square yellow pencil that smelled like tropical punch when you sharpened it. My best friend bought a small vial of strawberry essential oil. Clearly we were living dangerously.

In the '80s, the store moved across the street to where Centro is now located and the merchandise took on a decidedly more punk twist. "I went through a trenchcoat stage," said Siverson. "I bought one there and wore it so long my mother took it and threw it out." She also recalled buying a belt that looked like piano keys.

"I remember the owner was a chick with a big pink spiked Mohawk," said Santarcangelo.

"It was our first taste of diversity," said Siverson. "It was really about the people who worked there. It was a glimpse into a whole different scene."

Julie Smith had close ties with the store. "I was friends with Gaye, the owner, and her girlfriend/partner Robin. When Gaye and Robin relocated to the traffic circle (they re-named the store 'Eudokia' after Gaye's mother),  I was in college, but still stopped by to visit when I was in town. They were kind enough to let my brother's band play there."

As if one cutting edge store wasn't enough to turn Fairfield on its head, there was also Trident Records, located in the alleyway next to the Galleria Building.

"It was dark and there were beaded curtains and incense," said Santarcangelo. Walking in, you'd see teens hunched over the racks, flipping through records. Posters of rock bands were taped to the walls. But it was the merchandise in the glass cases that had everyone wondering.

"Smoking accessories," they were called. The store sold glass bongs, wooden pipes and numerous brands of rolling paper. Most kids didn't really know what the stuff was or how it was used, but we knew it had something to do with drugs, and it gave the store its overall bad-ass feel.

"I stopped by there every day after school," said Santarcangelo. "I'd ask the guy if any new Adam Ant stuff came in. At last count, I had 141 pins and posters."

For a lot of kids, Trident was a regular stop on their way home from Tomlinson Middle School. They'd stop in and flip through the records to see what was new. This, of course, was way before iTunes.

"I loved Trident," said George Hadfield. "It was my first used record store experience. I spent so much money there. I wouldn't leave until I looked through every single album."

They say that smell is the sense closest tied to memory. Magical Mystery Tour and Trident Records may be long gone (and replaced by more reputable retail establishments), but ask anyone who ever frequented the two shops, and undoubtedly they'll mention the smell. Just what that smell was will forever remain a mystery.