Rice Village, like so much of Houston, has recently attempted a concerted and sustained effort to polish itself up. And like the nation’s fourth-largest city, the Village has never had much of a design plan, relying on, at most, a patchwork of developers’ ideas spanning only a block or two. Over the years the Village has evolved, but the uniqueness of the fun and funky shops from the 1970s and ’80s left an indelible mark on the storied shopping district that can still be appreciated today.

In the years following the opening of Rice Institute (now Rice University) in 1912, Houston’s growth outward from its historical center led to the development of residential neighborhoods. Immediately north of Rice was Southampton Place, founded in 1924. To the west, across the unpaved road that would be named Kirby Drive, was the municipality West University Place, incorporated in 1924. As those communities grew, so did the need for nearby amenities like grocery stores and gas stations.

In 1937, the first businesses opened on the land between the two neighborhoods, forming what would be known as Rice Village. Setting the precedent of parking right out in front, Rice Food Market stood on the southwest corner of Rice Boulevard and Kelvin, eventually moving across the street, where it remained until leaving the Village in the early 2000s. While the southern and eastern borders of the concentrated shopping district remain defined by Southgate and Rice University, the northern border has always been a little fuzzy, with some placing it as far as Bissonnet.

Yes, the history of the Village (as the locals called it) includes legendary Houston businesses like Rice Food Market, Weingarten’s Grocery, Variety 5&10, Dromgoole’s, Alfred’s Delicatessen, Collegiate Cleaners, the British Market, and Demo’s Auto Service. Some simply faded away, while others were priced out of the Village, lately aspiring to be “high-end.” On the bright side, Moeller’s Bakery, Beautique, G&G Model Shop, and Times Barber Shop found better deals nearby, keeping their decades-long clients and customers.

Greg Hazlewood’s family bought Collegiate Cleaners on Rice Boulevard in 1979. Serving the neighborhood since 1947, the modest and reliable dry cleaners can rightfully claim the title of oldest business in the Village.

“The vibe is still the same, however we have had a few mid/high-rises pop up,” says Hazlewood, who has had a front-row seat to the changing landscape. Indeed, behind Collegiate rises the apartment and dining mega-castle Hanover Rice Village, which captured two full blocks on both sides of Bolsover Street. And more residential high-rises came on the northern edges of the Village.

For decades, the highest point in the Village was the six-story University Savings Association Bank building on Dunstan. Converted to a 24-Hour Fitness in 1988, the mid-rise heralded the arrival of other national chains including the Gap, Pier One, Starbucks, and Urban Outfitters.

When I describe the Village of my childhood, I refer to the recently departed Half-Price Books. Even though they set up shop on University Boulevard in 1981, it was such a significant and quintessential Village store. Imagine the dusty and drab aisles of Half-Price. Well, in the 1980s, all of the Village was like that. In that decade, fast-food chains dotted the blocks. At Kirby and Rice Boulevard, Jack in the Box would become the River Oaks Plant House. Down the street closer to Rice campus, Dairy Queen (yes, Dairy Queen) morphed into Hungry International. And the U-Tote-M convenience store on Morningside transformed into a Little Woodrow’s. All reused their existing structures in an example of the weirdest style of Houston historic preservation.

Let’s not forget the Village Theatre’s final act as a porno house, then euphemistically called an “adult theater.” How strange that the World Toy and Gift Shop was right next door. And few remember there was a second, slightly artsy porno theater next to the wholesome One’s A Meal. Ahh, the reliably sketchy 1980s!

Over the years, the Village’s funky nightlife included windowless cabaret-style cocktail joints, an all-night pool hall, a head shop, and strangest of all, Caribana, a live reggae bar. Even legendary Rockin’ Robin Guitars & Music got its start in the Village. Having Rice campus a few blocks away meant the Village had its share of college student–serving businesses like laundromats, printers, and bookstores. Sadly, classic beer bar the Ginger Man, whose customers numbered more Rice and Med Center faculty than students, couldn’t survive post-COVID.

Kirsten Ufer recalls her parents’ store on Rice Boulevard. In the mid-1970s, Ufer & Ufer sold contemporary accessories and catered to a more streamlined aesthetic. However, she was more interested in Variety 5&10 next door. “Mr. Klinger, the owner, would greet you at the door and help you find whatever wacky or unimaginable thing you might need,” she recalls. “And they would always have it!”

Later as a teen, Ufer, like dozens of other neighborhood kids, would ride bikes and meet up at Burger-Ville or Charlie’s for lunch, and spend babysitting money on then-exotic, vaguely Euro-style Guess jeans at Esprit de Corps on Times Boulevard. What remained was spent across the street at the Bead Shop, on “twisty beads” and “add-a-bead” necklaces.

Grown-ups had charming niche stores like the House of Coffee Beans, Festivities, Iconography, the Village Cheese Shop, and Aquarian Age Bookshelf. Frozen yogurt made its local debut at the Cultured Cow, just a few doors down from Dairy Queen.

In the 1980s, architects Barry Moore and William Cannady separately designed a few blocks of retail and office mixed-use buildings, with a goal of creating visual cohesion to an existing patchwork. A much larger version of these design interventions lay on the horizon.

In the 1990s, a cultural shockwave exploded from West University Place. The once sleepy residential neighborhood, filled with post-war bungalows and modest, two-story brick homes transformed within a few years. Gone were the empty-nesters and in came the ostentatious McMansions filling up nearly every inch of each residential lot. West U, and adjacent Southside Place, Southgate, and Southampton, became fancy.

Most of Rice Village’s multiple landlords noticed and sought to transform the ragtag collection of shops into something equally fancy, to varying degrees. Weingarten’s was done with selling groceries, but was reborn as Weingarten Realty, a major player in Houston's real estate market. In 1991, they knocked down the 1941 Village Theatre and remade three blocks into the homogeneous Village Arcade, with a new-to-Houston feature—a multistory garage folded into the building’s center core. Rice University now owns those blocks and leases, along with a growing portfolio of Village properties.

Fifteen years ago, when Upper Kirby was being remade with uniform sidewalks, crosswalks, and other pedestrian-friendly amenities, the businesses along Kirby south of 59 down to the Rice Village balked at an extension of the thoughtful makeover up the road. The loudest argument was against designated left hand turning lanes. Their expressed preference was for one long, undivided, open turning lane, which can lead to a game of chicken with an oncoming driver.

Today, that stretch of Kirby is not built for strolling, biking, or even waiting for a bus. And if you’re walking from West University, crossing Kirby at Rice or University Boulevard isn’t for the faint of heart. Ironic, considering how urbane the Village strives to be. Like so much else in Houston, car remains king.