The first thing that greets visitors inside Love Saves the Day is a vintage arcade machine offering human analysis for a mere 25 cents. It’s weird, mysterious, and a perfectly fitting introduction to a store that has become a cultural icon of the New Hope community.

Love Saves the Day, affectionately known as LSD, has the feel of a museum curated by aliens trying to make sense of American life. From ceiling to floor, every inch of space is covered with strange treasures collected through the decades. Overhead, a forest of hats dangles from the ceiling, while an Elvis rug grins up at shoppers from beneath their feet. In between, a purple moped and all manner of pop-culture oddities compete for attention while eerie masks and mannequins stand guard over the chaos.

“The secret to shopping here is letting the store choose for you,” longtime customer Adi Strigl says. “If you’re looking for one specific thing, you’re kinda doing it all wrong. You just have to trust, open your heart, and—just like that—Love Saves the Day.”

Locals and tourists alike are drawn in by the magic of LSD. On a recent afternoon, wide-eyed first-time visitors wandered the aisles while Mayor Frank DeLuca stopped by after officiating a wedding and longtime resident Steve Maximo came in for a drink of water for his dog Claire. At the center of all the glorious chaos is Stasia Kauriga, the creative heart of LSD, whose singular vision has guided the store for decades.

Hyped for Halloween

Fans of the store know that every season brings something special, but Halloween is when LSD’s creepiest, zaniest side comes to life. Weeks before the holiday, Kauriga gets to work planning the theme and bringing the display to life, but she doesn’t do it alone. For the past 15 years, Shannon Quinty has been her right hand; Kauriga says she’s “literally an extension of my body.”

The effort they put into the display has developed a huge following, drawing artists and photographers from across the region who often turn what they capture into artwork of their own. “Our art inspires other artists,” Kauriga says.

A few years ago, Kauriga centered the theme on the history of clowns, with memorable results. “I could hear people screaming as they ran by out front,” she says. “It was like 3 in the afternoon, and I thought, ‘I guess that worked.’”

This year’s concept centers on what Kauriga calls “the history of the fear of dolls,” playing with the fact that almost everyone seems to have a particular kind of doll that gives them the creeps.

Halloween shoppers may be lured in by the windows, but once inside, Kauriga and her staff help them dig through vintage clothing and odd finds to put together costumes they might never have imagined. For employee Jacob Smith, being part of that creative process makes the job special. “It doesn’t feel like work,” he says. “It feels like I get to be here.”

Younger employees like Smith help keep the store evolving. Smith, now 20 years old, has worked at LSD since he was about 16. He brings his own eye for fashion and a very different definition of vintage to the mix. “What Jacob considers super vintage feels like yesterday to me,” Kauriga jokes.

A Love Story

Kauriga’s connection to LSD reaches back decades. As a teenager growing up in Philadelphia, she scoured thrift stores for vintage clothing, then brought some of her finds to LSD to sell. Later, while studying at School of Visual Arts in New York, she spent time at the Manhattan store where she continued to learn from Leslie Herson, the eccentric artist and vintage collector who founded LSD in 1966 with her husband, Richard “Richie” Herson. “I was never without Love Saves the Day,” Kauriga says.

Kauriga’s career eventually took her to Harley-Davidson, where she spent more than a decade. When she left the corporate world, Leslie invited her back to LSD. Not long afterward, Leslie became ill, and Kauriga began taking on more responsibility. As Kauriga puts it, she became “a sponge” determined to learn anything she could from Leslie.

Leslie was just as eccentric as the store she created. Barely 4 feet 8 inches tall, she wore elaborate Victorian clothing, corsets, and enormous wigs. “She was an artist in every way, shape, or form,” Kauriga says.

By the 1980s, the East Village shop had developed such a celebrity following that, in 1985, scenes from “Desperately Seeking Susan,” starring Madonna, were filmed there. Its success gave Leslie the opportunity to expand. New Hope, with its artist culture and love of the bizarre, seemed the perfect place to lay down roots.

Leslie immediately knew that the building on the corner of Main and Bridge streets should house LSD. Unfortunately, it wasn’t for sale. But she was not one to be deterred. Kauriga remembers her regularly stopping outside, wrapping her arms around the building and saying, “You’re gonna be mine someday.”

Eventually, her persistence paid off. Within a couple of years, the owners agreed to sell directly to Leslie beginning LSD’s long local history.

After Leslie died, maintaining both locations became impossible. The Manhattan store closed, leaving Kauriga to carry on what Leslie had created in New Hope. “I promised Leslie and Richie that I will try my hardest to keep this store going as long as I possibly can,” she says.

Part of Kauriga’s gift is knowing not just what to collect but where it belongs. She considers herself less a “picker” than a “placer” because she wants to find the right home for every piece. That instinct has made LSD a go-to source for costume designers, collectors, and T.V. productions looking for something unusually specific. When Jimmy Fallon needed a particular prop for that night’s show, Kauriga came through. “I knew exactly the Chewbacca doll he needed that night, and I got it to him within three hours, and he did his thing with it,” she says.

Not Ready to Go

A few years ago, New Hope came close to discovering what it would feel like without LSD. After the pandemic, Richie considered selling the property with an agreement intended to keep the store in the building. But Kauriga worried that once someone else owned it, there would be no guarantee the store could afford to stay.

Once word spread, thousands of comments and social media posts poured in from people begging them not to sell and telling Kauriga how much the store meant to them. “I bawled my eyes out,” she says. “I know how special this place is. I didn’t know everybody else knew.”

That same week, Kauriga says Leslie began appearing in her dreams with a clear message: “No, no, no. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.” While Kauriga often feels Leslie’s presence in the store, this time there was no question what Leslie was telling her. She went back to Richie and told him, “We’re not doing this. I don’t care who offers us what. I don’t care what the offer is. It’s not time yet.”

Beyond the shop, Kauriga is more deeply involved in New Hope now than ever, serving on the Shade Tree Commission and helping plan local events. She understands the community will continue to change, and with it, so will LSD. But, for now, the store remains in its iconic space on the corner of Main and Bridge streets, overflowing with pop-culture treasures and the warmth of community. And somewhere in all that glorious clutter, Kauriga is pretty sure Leslie is still keeping an eye on things.

Lela Casey is the editor of New Hope & Solebury magazine and has been writing professionally for more than 15 years. She and her family live in Doylestown.

Photograph by Lucent Reflections Photography (Lucy Espejel)