Travel back in time to the year 1990 when the concept of Stanley Street first took bloom. In my grandmother’s little brick house on Stanley. That little home was bursting with love and the reason for that was my Gram. She was a top-notch dresser and had a serious collection of handbags, slingbacks, and jewelry. Like many little girls, dressing up in her things was a hobby my six-year-old self loved and Gram was my audience. If I wasn’t using her long hallway as my runway I was sitting quietly in front of her closet. Digging through her large handbags turned into a treasure hunt that occasionally rewarded me with a package of gum or little tissues.