DÉJÀ VU

Number 238 Front Street once sold made-to-measure curtains. On the second floor, a fitting room let customers compare fabrics against three false windows, one opening onto a cupboard. People sat down to judge how velvet hung, then stayed for the cool air. When the business closed, the rails left but the heavy curtains remained: nobody could carry them downstairs without removing the banister. The landlord therefore offered the room with its silence included. In Downtown, where every car horn has an opinion, that particular detail immediately interested a few prospective radio people.

Déjà Vu began broadcasting in December 1984 between two hanging rails converted into record shelves. The curtains absorbed Front Street while old mirrors let the desk operator check the doors without getting up. The fitting platform stayed for chamber ensembles; four chair legs would fit, provided nobody also required an audience. The station plaque was engraved on the back of a brass sample. Its first house rule simply forbade placing a cup on a score, even if the score appeared to be finished. An extra saucer was purchased to remove any possible doubt about where cups belonged.

A crackle in February 1985 nearly turned this discretion into a technical speciality. A worn connection transmitted every vibration from the goods lift, which now carried empty cartons with considerable determination. The complaint that brought Lucie to the station finally prompted repairs. The real celebration came in September: a quartet played on the platform while workers on the 3e Avenue stopped their jackhammer to change a drill bit. The events coincided for precisely eight minutes. A tape preserves the concert under “temporarily cooperative exterior”; a photograph shows all four chairs with nobody standing around them.

Today, warm polish and tea greet visitors, with the rustle of sleeves replacing the rustle of dresses. Through the actual window, taxis draw a yellow musical staff beneath the blinds. The setting sun slips between buildings and gilds the old hem marks still visible on the wall. Zinc repairs keep the roof sound; the aerial leans just enough to encourage correspondence. In the cupboard behind the false window, a cushion still waits for the customer who may wish to hear the difference between two kinds of velvet.

LITTLE STORIES

• The false window has a fully working handle.
• The lift sign reads “silence in transit”.
• The quartet chairs have numbered felt soles.
• A velvet sample covers the register.
• Only the lettered side of the plaque gets polished.

THE NEIGHBOURS

• Nightshift Finance : Nightshift Finance at 234 lends a green lamp for the smallest score annotations.
• Golden Pawn : Golden Pawn at 244 reserves its least squeaky record stands for the studio.
• Silver Cab Service : Silver Cab Service at 230 waits for guests without sounding horns beneath the curtains.