Sandwiched between Espresso Royale and Noodles and Co. on State Street sits a lone rack of old sweaters. The glittery sign above it reads “Star Vintage.” As you cautiously enter the store, past the rack of colorful clothing, past the graffiti-slashed walls and the rickety old stairs, past the bizarre sign letting you know “There is no need to be curious kitty,” you enter a basement room that confronts you with what can only be described as sensory assault.

There are displays everywhere, evoking several different eras: a ’50s TV living room, ’80s Joan Jett and one for St. Patty’s Day, half taken down and framed by twinkling white lights. And then there’s just so much stuff. It’s everywhere — on the ceiling, on the floors, toppling off stands. Fluorescent wigs, wide-rimmed sunglasses and stacks of shoes line the walls.

In the dressing room, crooners and tuners Janet Jackson, Andre Previn, Don Ameche and Duane Eddy smile benevolently down at you as you undress. On the floor lies a miniature Coca-Cola cabinet — when opened, it reveals delectables like Campbell's soup tins, Burtoni high-protein macaroni shells and Reynolds Wrap doled out in doll-sized proportions. It almost seems like little fairy people used to live here, dining on plastic shells and finishing off their meals with a slurp of imaginary Progresso soup.

Star Vintage feels less like a throwback to a specific era and more like a mishmash of everything and anything that used to be. The concept behind vintage has always been about paying homage to history while embracing the ever-evolving trends of the current decade.

“I think a lot of fashion is rehash,” said Tillie Whitt, Star’s owner. “I think it does repeat itself. The ’60s is a throwback to the Victorian era, the fashion of the ’80s is a certain retake on a ’40s style, with the more geometric lines and squared-off shoulders. I think it does continue to reflect parts of history with a new spin.”

Known formerly as Primitive Vintage, Star Vintage was rechristened when Whitt bought the store five years ago.

“It’s always been that weird basement shop where no one knows where it is until you know where it is. That’s what I’ve always liked about it; it’s made it more mysterious,” said Anne Coombs, store manager.

Perhaps unique to Star is how each of the items in the store is named. On one side, the tag features the era the piece is from and the price; on the other, a sassy name describing it: “Melty Cuteness,” “I vant this dress,” “Wow! Superfine.”

“It’s just something that I started when I first started the store,” Whitt said. “When I first started tagging everything, I thought, ‘Wow, this looks like Audrey Hepburn, or this looks like James Dean or Johnny Cash.’ And then I just started naming things. And it’s been a tradition of ours for five years.”

Coombs says that the customers tend to flock in, either from far away or in literal flocks.

“We’ll get big groups of sorority girls that’ll just want to try every dress on, just have fun with it. But a lot of people from out of town that come to Ann Arbor and want fun activities to do also find us here,” Coombs said.

In terms of the store’s turnover, clothes come in and out fairly often. Every week, Whitt brings back garbage bag-sized drops from places ranging from estate sales to rag houses.

“The world is a treasure hunt.