Tenants of Persa Place, clockwise from top left: Hunt and Bloom; Brooke Wise of NAN Collective; a path through storefronts; Natalie Lindsey Style; Brooke Taelor; embroidery details from Carla Valencia Design.
Courtesy of/Houston Chronicle
Persa Place, a collection of vintage shops, creative studios and small businesses tucked between Westheimer Road and West Alabama Street, is photographed in Houston, Wednesday, July 15, 2026.
Raquel Natalicchio/Houston Chronicle
Brooke Wise, owner of NAN Collective, is photographed at Persa Place in Houston on Wednesday, July 15, 2026.
Raquel Natalicchio/Houston Chronicle
A shopper browses clothing inside Natalia DeAyala Lindsey’s boutique at Persa Place in Houston on Wednesday, July 15, 2026. Persa Place is home to a collection of vintage shops, creative studios and small businesses tucked between Westheimer Road and West Alabama Street.
Raquel Natalicchio/Houston Chronicle
Pins displayed on a pair of jean shorts inside NAN Collective at Persa Place are photographed in Houston on Wednesday, July 15, 2026.
Raquel Natalicchio/Houston Chronicle
Photographs by photographer Brooke Taelor’s are displayed in her studio at Persa Place in Houston on Wednesday, July 15, 2026.
Raquel Natalicchio/Houston Chronicle
Persa Place, a collection of vintage shops, creative studios and small businesses tucked between Westheimer Road and West Alabama Street, is photographed in Houston, Wednesday, July 15, 2026.
Raquel Natalicchio/Houston Chronicle
Will Hunt Lewis, owner of Hunt and Bloom, is photographed at Persa Place in Houston on Wednesday, July 15, 2026.
Raquel Natalicchio/Houston Chronicle
The interior of Hunt and Bloom at Persa Place is photographed in Houston on Wednesday, July 15, 2026.
Raquel Natalicchio/Houston Chronicle
The interior of Hunt and Bloom at Persa Place is photographed in Houston on Wednesday, July 15, 2026.
Raquel Natalicchio/Houston Chronicle
The courtyard at Persa Place, home to a collection of vintage shops, creative studios and small businesses, is photographed in Houston on Wednesday, July 15, 2026.
Raquel Natalicchio/Houston Chronicle
There’s a scene in the film “Titanic” when Leonardo DiCaprio’s Jack Dawson whisks Kate Winslet’s Rose DeWitt-Bukater away from a formal, and somewhat stuffy dinner by whispering, “So, you wanna go to a real party?” They proceed to drink beer and line-dance below deck, to which Winslet’s character exclaims, “That was the most fun I’ve had in years!” between laughs.
Following vintage connoisseurs Brooke Wise and Natalie Lindsey on a random school night through Persa Place, a hidden enclave of creative businesses tucked behind Westheimer in former St. Anne Catholic School residences, feels a bit like that.
Cocktails in hand, Wise and Lindsey dart from a shindig at The Nat Note in mid-February — welcoming their friend, photographer and new Persa Place tenant Brooke Taelor to the block — down a brick-cobbled path. They scoop up stray party-goers as they weave under string lights.
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One twist of a key and turn of a knob later, and a second, spontaneous gathering is underway.
Lindsey pops open a champagne bottle. Wise considers whether music is needed. And the hunt for vintage is off to the races.
At Persa Place, the developer-loved “mixed-use retail” takes on a different meaning. There’s daughter-and-pop embroidery, fine print photography, interior design showrooms and some of the most delicious vintage in town.
This may be where Houston’s chicest, and most unnassuming, clientele shop.
Another father-daughter duo, Matt Esfahani and Sarah Esfahani Tringhese, took ownership of Persa Place roughly 10 years ago. There are 15 tenants total, with no current vacancies. Some are workshops, others are window-paned storefronts or miniature medical spas, steps away from the bustle of Westheimer, nestled between Greenbriar and Persa.
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Unsuspecting visitors to that sliver of Upper Kirby are more likely to seize the ample street parking on Persa than stumble upon its courtyard. Tucked away and bohemian, the artfully undone configuration more closely resembles European mews than the current trend of big-box, glass-walled build-outs.
“We like people to come in. I’ve stopped apologizing for the mess or clutter. It should feel like you’re at your best friend’s house,” Lindsey says. “Help yourself. Open the fridge. You don’t have to ask to try anything on. That’s why it was important to me to have a sofa, so people wouldn’t have to rush out or feel pressure to buy anything. Just like, hang.”
An original design inside Natalia DeAyala Lindsey’s clothing boutique at Persa Place is photographed in Houston on Wednesday, July 15, 2026.
Raquel Natalicchio/Houston Chronicle
Newcomers hesitate at first, sifting through racks politely. They examine a brown suede coat with a fur collar. And a white, mock neck frock from the late 1960s. A 75% off sign swings on the rail.
“Everybody take home one thing,” Lindsey announces to a stunned audience. “If you love it, it’s yours.”
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Kelli Comiskey, who works for Hotel Saint Augustine and Hotel Daphne, nods. “She means it; she does this all the time.”
It’s true. Lindsey has little room to spare.
Veterans of her eponymous boutique Natalie Lindsey Style know the drill; they try on leather fringe jackets with abandon. There’s a one-of-a-kind find on every surface, and tucked into each nook and cranny.
Down a long corridor, Wise’s reverent homage to all things denim gleams bright white from a distance.
“Ours were two separate spaces; we knocked down a wall. It’s not super obvious, except that mine is a completely different vibe — more nostalgic sports club meets hunting lodge meets English cottage,” Lindsey says. “You cross over to Brooke’s side, and she’s clean girl vibes, super minimalist, all the jeans just hung and stacked. Our stuff works really well together.”
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It’s hard to imagine that she and Wise were nearly retail rivals.
They first met years ago when Wise worked for accessories designer Elaine Turner while Lindsey was at Tootsies. The future business collaborators reconnected across an aisle at Marburger Farm during the Round Top Antique Show. Lindsey was regularly selling out of the vintage Ralph Lauren clothing and reworked yo-yo separates, which have since become a show staple, that she styled around her mom’s European antiques. Wise walked over one day and bought up all the Levi’s; those sold out, too.
Several run-ins at pop-up shopping events and one fortuitous coffee meeting later, the pair decided to join forces. Wise’s brother-in-law, Will Hunt Lewis, had outgrown his interior design showroom and suggested she and Lindsey move in.
“I was just keeping (all these jeans) for myself. I think subconsciously, I knew this was the direction I wanted to go,” Wise recalls. “He must’ve seen this before I did.”
She and Lindsey toured the space, shook hands and snapped a selfie. A retailer’s riff on Melrose Place, Aaron Spelling’s fictionalized Los Angeles apartment complex, was born.
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“We’re kind of off the beaten path, if you know you know. Every now and then we’ll get a random walk-in,” Lindsey says. “I always thought, if I ever open a store, I want it to be in an old building, not a main street, in a place that feels like you’re in on a little secret. I envisioned a little house, but this is even better. We do call it Persa Place, because it’s a little street for shop owners.”
Founding father of Persa Place
Some of the tenants call Lewis the founding father of Persa Place, though he isn’t its owner or even the landlord. The distinction is earned partially because he’s been there the longest, and partially because he’s moved spaces the most.
Lewis, who is married to Wise’s brother, hails from Mississippi originally, where he previously had a retail store. The couple moved to Houston in 2021 to be closer to family.
“I wanted to try my hand at antiques and vintage furnishings, but I only wanted to do e-commerce because I’d gained a lot of experience at One Kings Lane when it was the hottest home décor website. Everyone set their alarms for 11 a.m. when we did these crazy flash sales,” Lewis recalls. “I started going to estate sales and had no intention of doing brick and mortar again. This is the story of how I like to live, which is collected — mixing old and new.”
Will Hunt Lewis and his interior design showroom, Hunt and Bloom.
Hunt and Bloom operated out of his home. He looked for a warehouse or office space, but nothing fit the bill.
Interior designer Paloma Contreras works from the Cottages of Matt Camron, an idyllic cluster of white bungalows at Bammel and Westheimer. She connected Lewis to her landlord’s daughter, Tringhese.
“Sarah didn’t have any spaces available at the Cottages, but mentioned a small space at the Courtyard of Saint Anne’s,” Lewis says. “This was November 2022. I find this place; you pass by it on Westheimer all the time. I made that turn and here are these little converted apartments.”
He was immediately charmed. Megan Hotze, another interior designer, had an office back there, too; she is now Lewis’ publicist. There was no retail presence yet.
As Hunt and Bloom’s business grew, so did his need for more storage and floor space. Lewis relocated four times in just a few years.
“Now I’m in my forever home as of March at 2129 Westheimer, a large brick and mortar,” he says, laughing at the irony. “We open the blinds, we have window displays and leave the lights on. People are also stopping, because they have to turn onto Persa to park. Having those windows open is drawing people in who are really enjoying what they see. The social media following of Brooke and Natalie has contributed to that as well.”
Community matchmaker and denim whisperer
When Wise, a Houston native, graduated from Bellaire High School, a career in broadcast journalism felt like an absolute certainty. She had never considered another profession. Fate had other plans.
Through family connections, she landed a stint in New York with Good Morning America, working on set at age 21. Next came a public relations gig for clients like LeBron James and Vanessa Williams.
Then she moved back home and worked weddings at Hotel ZaZa before joining Elaine Turner. Wise turned her focus on starting a family and accepted a position at the Fay School before becoming a spin instructor at Define: barre, cycle, yoga.
“I have done so many things. Paths are not linear, and it’s great for people to realize you can go in different directions,” she says. “My brother-in-law moved to Houston and formed Hunt in Bloom; his first space is the space I’m sitting in now. Back in November 2023, he showed at Marburger and asked me to do a pop-up. I said, ‘With what? ‘ and he said, ‘All those vintage Levis’s you’ve been collecting.’ I hadn’t really envisioned starting a business.”
Brooke Wise, owner of NAN Collective, is photographed at Persa Place in Houston on Wednesday, July 15, 2026.
Raquel Natalicchio/Houston Chronicle
Today, sourcing and hawking vintage Levi’s is her primary income. Wise’s company, NAN Collective, stands for No Approval Needed and is borrowed from her podcast. That’s how she intended to utilize Persa Place, as a recording studio, vintage shop and gathering place for women. Demand for the perfect pair of broken-in denim trumped all that.
Most of her clients shop in person, whether in the space she shares with Lindsey or at a pop-up, though Wise recently figured out how to translate her process into virtual appointments, too.
Despite her success, she doesn’t hesitate to share the secret sauce: in general, vintage Levi’s run 3 to 4 sizes off the modern sizes.
“I have everyone measure their current favorite fitting jeans and tell me whether they want super-fitted, boyfriend or relaxed. Most people want 501s because they’re trending, but 501s have a funky fit based on your waist-to-chest ratio,” Wise explains. “I’m not gate-keeping; I tell everyone right away. There’s an educational side to buying a pair of vintage Levi’s, so I try to make it a seamless experience and nine times out of 10, the very first pair they try on is what they end up getting. Their whole demeanor changes.”
She knows trying on jeans can be a harrowing experience for women. The lighting can be harsh. The options, overwhelming.
Vintage jeans have a different feel. Most were made from 100% cotton.
A selection of jeans inside NAN Collective at Persa Place are photographed in Houston on Wednesday, July 15, 2026.
Raquel Natalicchio/Houston Chronicle
“There’s something about the Levi’s booty,” Wise says. “You want them to fit really tight. Do a squat; they’ll keep their shape, but they won’t give. And don’t wash them unless you have to, but you can’t mess them up. A lot of them have been around for 60 to 70 years and have a life to live.”
She likes to imagine where the denim has been. What did the wearer do in them? Those imperfections can tell a story.
Her philosophy is that a simple uniform of jeans and white T-shirt can, too.
“No Approval Needed makes such a statement that’s really important for women. We are all very much conditioned to need and seek approval, especially when you’re buying clothing or styling. All that matters is how you feel. That’s the messaging of my brand; that’s sort of the direction I’m going.”
Things with a story
Lindsey, another born-and-bred Houstonian, also cut her teeth in New York after college. She worked for Calvin Klein before falling fast and hard for vintage at What Goes Around Comes Around, a respected destination in Soho for rare, museum-quality pieces.
“At the time there was no real online shopping. It was really new in the 2010s. Stylists would call and pull from our vintage archive, or maybe someone from Elle (magazine),” she recalls. “That was my first taste of the industry. I started realizing I was just drawn. If I complimented someone on something, it was usually vintage. I always love things with history, things with a story.”
After moving back to her hometown and assisting her mom, an antique dealer, out at Round Top, Lindsey developed a theory.
“If I brought a vintage rack, it would crush it. People want to leave with something,” she says. “The next show I curated Western-leaning and Ralph Lauren and sold out in like an hour. I was onto something. The next show I brought stuff in two racks, merchandised in dressers. My mom was pretty annoyed that she’d hauled in these giant pieces and I’ll sell out casually and make more money.”
Lindsey mostly sources in cotton, silk and linen. Those fabrics tend to feel better, and sell better, than polyester from the 60s and 70s.
She purchased her first yo-yo quilt, disks of gathered, discarded fabric scraps, out in the antique tents with a second idea in mind.
“I made two or three skirts, and they sold out in 20 seconds. That’s what started the yo-yos thing,” Lindsey says.
Natalia DeAyala Lindsey, owner of a clothing boutique at Persa Place, is photographed in Houston on Wednesday, July 15, 2026. Persa Place is home to a collection of vintage shops, creative studios and small businesses tucked between Westheimer Road and West Alabama Street.
Raquel Natalicchio/Houston Chronicle
The reworked aesthetic became her calling card. Natalie Lindsey Style quickly grew a following on social media. Over the years, as the trend gained traction, Lindsey moved on to embroidery, lace and crochet. Though if she posts a new yo-yo on Instagram, people will come to her Persa Place shop.
“My business is predominantly online. When I post a drop, it mostly sells out,” Lindsey says. “For the fall, people are wanting suede and fringe and stuff to wear to their ranches in Colorado and Montana, or Round Top. Aside from my reworked pieces and textiles, the other half of my business is suede- and fringe-leaning western without being too yee-haw cowboys. I’m a sucker for a long, tapestry cardigan. Or anything with a horse, duck, or animal on it.”
Her most treasured items are typically handmade. The holy grail is a piece that looks like someone’s grandmother sewed it — no tag, no designer label.
Lindsey admits that she’s not gifted with sewing skills. She lays in bed at night sourcing linens and quilts or sketching out designs for her team of (top secret) seamstresses to create.
“Everything is totally one of one. They’re so fast. And I’ll never share where I found them; I keep them fully busy,” she shares. “I think I’ll always have some vintage. I’m literally addicted to the hunt. I live for it.”
An Old World atelier
Lewis may have been first, though Taelor suspects that Wise might be the epicenter of Persa Place.
After stumbling across NAN Collective online, Taelor met Wise in person during a pop-up with Magnolia Mercantile, another tenant, during a First Thursday event.
“I immediately hit it off with Brooke and may have bought a necklace,” Taelor says. “I went a few weeks later to buy some jeans.”
She’d just moved from New Braunfels to Houston to live with her boyfriend. Taelor didn’t really know anyone, and concluded the most logical way to connect was to go shopping. It worked; she made a new friend and then some.
“I’ve been a wedding photographer for nearly a decade. I’ve never done things by the book, how you’re ‘supposed to’ in the wedding industry,” Taelor shares. “What I did have on my Pinterest board was an image of a studio space.”
Photographs by photographer Brooke Taelor’s are displayed in her studio at Persa Place in Houston on Wednesday, July 15, 2026.
Raquel Natalicchio/Houston Chronicle
En route to a facial appointment at DerMadi, an upper-level tenant at Persa Place, she caught a glimpse of a window pane that resembled the studio pinned on her board.
“I texted Brooke and said, ‘I don’t know if I can afford this or if there’s space available,’ and she said, ‘Give me five minutes,’” Taelor recalls. “It needed some work, but the landlord agreed to honor the previous rate. I signed (the lease) that day.”
She shares her lofty perch with Hailey Roberts, founder of Tumbling Dice Vintage. Their shared aesthetic is Parisian; like stepping into someone’s atelier in Paris. Only one of her dream windows opens, and she finds that detail romantic.
“I’ve always loved something with an antique feeling. And the architecture of these spaces. It’s very European; we wanted it to feel very Old World,” Taelor says. “I wanted it to be a salon-style space where people could experience wedding photographs hung up on the wall as art. That was my original vision and intention when I moved in last October.”
Photographer Brooke Taelor is photographed at her studio in Persa Place in Houston on Wednesday, July 15, 2026.
Raquel Natalicchio/Houston Chronicle
The clients who get it, get it. One mother-of-the-bride recently purchased a vintage Hermès shawl from Roberts during her daughter’s photography consultation with Taelor.
Roberts operates by appointment only, which creates an opportunity for serendipitous discovery of Taelor’s work. Putting down roots in Persa Place was partly an effort to make a name for herself in Houston. Destination weddings have been her bread and butter since 2018.
“I never grew up traveling; we had a very humble family. This service to my couples and their families is to think of their wedding photos as an heirloom, an art, versus the 10 digital photos to post once a year,” Taelor explains. “You can have seven photos in a box instead, and those will become so special. So a lot of brides come in after the wedding with their mothers to look at the paper we’re going to print on and touch different materials for their album. The process continues that relationship post-wedding.”
Recycling creative energy
Carla Valencia moved to Houston from Mexico at age five. She’s a Duchesne Academy of the Sacred Heart alum and later graduated from the University of Houston.
Her creative calling came much later, when a girlfriend coveted a Christian Dior purse strap for a birthday present. Carla Valencia couldn’t buy one — but she realized she could make one.
“People asked her about it, so I started making them,” she says.
Initially, the process to create each strap took seven weeks at $500 a pop. “They still cost the same, but now my dad runs them through a sewing machine. They’re homemade, but now we make them in a day.”
Carlos Valencia, 76, works at a sewing machine inside his daughter Carla Valencia’s custom embroidery and patch-making shop at Persa Place in Houston on Wednesday, July 15, 2026.
Raquel Natalicchio/Houston Chronicle
Her father, Carlos Valencia, who previously had a manufacturing factory in Guadalajara, proved an ideal, albeit unexpected partner.
Carla Valencia didn’t quit her full-time job, however, until an event with J. Crew in Highland Village changed their business model overnight.
“They asked if we would customize some stuff in-store. We still didn’t know what we were doing,” she says. “We showed up with our sewing machines and set out curated trays of stuff for shoppers. People were pulling jeans and jackets off the shelves, asking us to add patches and embroidery. That’s how we took off.”
Projects with Kate Spade, Neiman Marcus and Fraulein Boots followed. Basically, anything Carla Valencia could draw, she could sew as well.
Her dad researched the best hardware and materials. He makes all of their leather in-house and uses only brass.
They source vintage trim and design bespoke patches. The latter are exceptionally popular for game day shirts and school spirit wear. “It’s not cheesy, so people have really responded to that,” Carla Valencia says.
Carla Valencia, owner of a custom embroidery and patch-making shop, is photographed at Persa Place in Houston on Wednesday, July 15, 2026.
Raquel Natalicchio/Houston Chronicle
Their other best-seller? Cowboy boot customization. They’ll go through 20 pairs in a single day during the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. Sometimes the father/daughter duos do house calls. “It’s worth it for us to go out, even for a day,” she adds.
Inside their Round Top tent at Blue Hills, people will bring their entire collections.
After the most recent antique show, Carla Valencia knew the time had come to pull the trigger on a retail shop and studio. She phoned an old friend, Wise, who helped set her up across the alley at Persa Place.
“We love it, but it was terrifying,” Carla Valencia admits. “I’m an early bird, and I want to wake up and be here at 4 a.m. It’s so magical and quaint… I get chills. This whole area has been recycling creative people for 20 or 30 years, and you can feel that. The buildings are really old; they have issues. The landlord helps us with all that, but I think we’d be here regardless. It’s really charming.”