A grand surprise in LaGrange, Texas
Courthouses, cowboy boots, and an ice bucket?
If you've ever heard of Round Top, Texas, you probably know two things: it hosts the second-largest antique market in the country, and it’s about as tiny as the population of 90 suggests. But nothing quite prepared me and my client-turned-friend Kelly for the adventure we were about to have. Kelly, a merchandiser and buyer, and I were so excited for the market that we decided to hit Junk Gypsy's happy hour before even stepping foot into our Airbnb—because who needs to get settled in when there’s shopping to do, right?
And honestly, can you blame us? The sisters who own the store are as sweet as can be, and the whole place feels like a creative wonderland. Cocktail in hand, I wandered through the endless treasures, got completely swept up in the magic, and somehow left with a pair of very expensive red cowboy boots. (Which, for the record, I definitely didn't need. Junk Gypsy magic strikes again.)
More on the October market coming soon—but first, let me tell you about the night that followed...
From there, we headed to Royers, the iconic Round Top restaurant where community tables turn strangers into fast friends. We ended up seated between two charming Louisiana ladies and a pair of young women from Philadelphia who worked for Anthropologie. It was their first visit to Round Top, and judging by their wide-eyed wonder (and slight culture shock), they were getting the full Southern immersion. By the end of the night, though, they were were the ones enchanting us.
Then came the part where our luck ran out.
We finally set out to check into our Airbnb. Picture dark, winding country roads, a driveway so long it felt like we were heading into a scene from Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and… nothing. Turns out, the owner had canceled our reservation without telling us.
By 9:30 PM, we were officially stranded. No hotels. No vacancies. Just us, our boots, and a rapidly deflating sense of adventure.
Somehow, we stumbled upon the last available motel room in LaGrange, a 20-minute drive from Round Top. When I went in to get the key, the toothless owner told me we were “lucky” because some fancy lady in a BMW had taken one look at the room and bailed. Lucky for us?
The room itself—well, I ditched the bedspread like it was a biohazard and lay down fully clothed, replaying scenes from Psycho in my head.
The real kicker? Kelly, determined not to let her suitcase touch the floor, perched it precariously near the microwave—right next to the ice bucket. The photo pretty much tells the whole story.
After Kelly’s hour-long saga with Airbnb customer service (part therapy session, part hostage negotiation), we resigned ourselves to heading back to Tennessee the next day.
The next morning, still in the grip of mild trauma and still homeless, we decided to stick it out. With a little help from a co-worker in Tennessee, we found a shared rental space with three other vendors, but the dealbreaker was that Kelly and I would have to share a full-size bed. At that point, I knew we’d hit rock bottom.
We left the motel, but not before snapping a few photos to remember its “quirky charm”. From there, we headed to the town square, where I’d spotted a majestic building the night before. By daylight, the Fayette County Courthouse was even more breathtaking—its grand architecture stopping us in our tracks. Kelly and I wandered the square, peeked into shop windows, and stumbled upon a cozy cafe where we grabbed a delicious bite.
Later, while exploring the antique shops, we struck up a conversation with the lovely owner of an antique store who, as luck would have it, helped us discover a potential home in nearby Schulenburg, Texas.
When I mentioned how stunning I’d found the courthouse, she insisted we step inside. And wow—was she right. The interior revealed a jaw-dropping, three-story atrium crowned by a skylight, complete with a fountain and details so beautiful it felt like stepping into a grand hotel.
In 1890, Fayette County hired 28-year-old self-taught architect J. Riely Gordon to design a new courthouse, despite controversy over demolishing the existing structure and rising construction costs. Gordon, already making a name for himself, delivered a Romanesque Revival masterpiece completed in 1891. He used four types of native Texas stone—blue Muldoon sandstone, Belton white limestone, Pecos red sandstone, and pink Burnet granite—adorned with griffins, acanthus leaf carvings, and an American eagle above the gable. The five-story clock tower with a decorative weather vane crowned the structure, but the true gem was the soaring three-story atrium.
This grand, open-air courtyard felt more like a magnificent hotel lobby than a government building, complete with banana trees, a fountain, and playful sculptures of a deer and a dog. Beyond its beauty, the atrium served a practical purpose—it provided natural ventilation, keeping the courthouse cooler than later window units ever did.
Sealing off of the atrium and restoration
Yet in 1949, with a growing need for office space and storage, county officials made the baffling decision to enclose the atrium—sealing off both its elegance and functionality. Who covers up a masterpiece like that? Was this the moment when we stopped prioritizing craftsmanship and beauty in public spaces?
Thankfully, a 2005 restoration, aided by the Texas Historic Courthouse Preservation Program, reversed the damage. The atrium was reopened with a protective skylight, its banana trees replanted as a tribute to Gordon’s original vision. The result is breathtaking, reminding visitors what public architecture can be. Gordon went on to design 16 Texas courthouses, 11 of which still stand, leaving a lasting legacy of beauty and purpose across the state.
And so, as I reflect on Round Top, antique stores, cowboy boots, and motels that should never be rented again, one thing is clear: The past, with its architecture, its history, and its quirks, is always better than we remember.
Fun Fact
LaGrange was home to the place made famous by the movie The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. It’s safe to say this trip was full of surprises.
German Texans
Since the mid-19th century, Texans of German birth or descent have been one of the state's largest ethnic groups. By 1850, they made up at least five percent of the population—a modest estimate. Today, over two million Texans claim German heritage. The Germans who arrived between 1830 and 1900 weren’t a uniform group but came from a mosaic of provinces and duchies, each bringing unique traditions and cultures. This influence lives on in the towns they settled and named, such as Frelsburg, Oldenburg, Weimar, and Schulenburg.
Architecture Fail
Not to harp on the subject, but just look at the contrast in architecture in Schulenburg, TX—old and new. What makes anyone think these two styles belong side by side? And honestly, when did a box become the standard for architecture? Have we become so burdened by taxes and city budgets that we can no longer afford to design buildings with beauty and intention? At some point, that new structure will be torn down and hauled off to a landfill—so what exactly are we leaving behind? Just something to think about.
Such a grand adventure! You made the most of it finding such beautiful architecture along the way. Lotsa surprises in those little TX towns - and you'll always have your red cowboy boots as a reminder of your interesting trip!
Glad you got out alive! Fun post!