Discover treasures at Relics in Tupelo

• It’s not just shopping, it’s an adventure.

I’ll be honest: I don’t think I’ve ever walked out of Relics Antique Marketplace in Tupelo empty-handed. I’ve told myself plenty of times that I’m “just browsing,” but Relics has other plans for me. Somehow, I always end up finding something that feels like it was waiting just for me—like a Judy Blume first edition book (signed, no less!) I scooped up one afternoon, or the delicate blue glass magnolia that I spotted shining in the light, and knew I couldn’t leave it behind.

That’s the magic of Relics—it’s not just shopping, it’s an adventure.

Relics has been part of Tupelo’s story for nearly a decade now, tucked inside the old Tupelo Garment Factory building. Tony and Heather Palmer opened the doors on New Year’s Day in 2017, and since then, it’s become the largest antique mall in the Tupelo area. It’s thriving because of the mix—vendors who keep things fresh and shoppers who can’t resist coming back.

The atmosphere is hard to describe unless you’ve been there. Walking in feels a little like stepping into a storybook where every booth has its own chapter. On one shelf, you’ll find Depression glass that sparkles just like your grandmother’s. Two booths down, a quirky mid-century lamp begs to be the star of a retro living room. Handmade and repurposed items nestle in between the antiques, giving the place a personality that’s both nostalgic and creative. It’s a little bit of everything, and somehow, it works.

And then there’s Elvis. Of course, there’s Elvis. Relics has made sure Tupelo’s most famous son isn’t just a memory—you can find pieces of his story right there on the shelves. Jon Daly, who also runs the EP Boulevard Pawn Shop in Memphis, brings early Presley memorabilia back home: photos, trading cards, even jewelry from the King’s heyday. For an Elvis fan, Relics isn’t just shopping—it’s a pilgrimage.

What truly draws me back to Relics time and again is the personal connections it fosters. I’ve strolled through the aisles with my husband and parents, each of us pausing at different corners as memories are sparked. Whether it’s a cookbook reminiscent of my grandmother’s, or a piece of jewelry that brings back prom memories, Relics has a way of pulling you into the past without you even realizing it.

And I have to mention the stairs. Records line the staircase like breadcrumbs leading you to another floor of treasures. Every time I climb them, I feel like I’m walking into another decade. Upstairs, downstairs—it doesn’t matter. Each booth feels like its own little world.

That’s what makes Relics special to me. It’s not only about antiques in the traditional sense. It’s about the stories. A dusty book that once sat on someone else’s shelf, a quirky vase that probably hosted generations of flowers, a piece of handmade art that tells the story of reinvention. These objects connect us—not just to history, but to one another.

The Palmers wanted a place with something for everyone, and they’ve succeeded. Shoppers wander in looking for gifts, collectors hunt down rare finds, and casual browsers (like me, who promise themselves they’ll “just look”) almost always walk out with something they didn’t know they needed. My husband has learned not to ask, “Did you find anything?” He knows better. The question is always, “So what did you find this time?”

Eight years might not sound like much in the world of antiques, but for Relics, it’s a milestone worth celebrating. It’s become part of Tupelo itself—a gathering place for history lovers, decorators, and daydreamers. And I have no doubt it will keep growing, because places with this much heart always do.

As for me, I’ll keep climbing those record-lined stairs and letting myself get lost in the past. Because Relics isn’t just about the things you carry out the door—it’s about the memories you make while you’re there. And that, to me, is the best kind of treasure.