The 5 Most Unhinged Candy Stores in Memphis
The Bubblegum Séance Emporium
Midtown locals refer to it simply as “The Séance,” and honestly, that’s the least confusing thing about it. This storefront specializes in wax lips that allegedly allow you to commune with the dead, provided you chew with intention and chant the name “Walter Mondale” under your breath. You’ll also find jawbreakers shaped like historical figures, including a disturbingly accurate George Wallace gumball that will NOT dissolve, no matter how many hours you suck on it. The owner wears a crushed velvet robe and claims his molars are “directly wired to the astral plane.” It smells like lavender and old secrets.
Uncle Slappy’s Beef Taffy Barn
Nestled between a taxidermy outlet and a DMV annex, Uncle Slappy’s takes pride in ruining childhood memories one strip at a time. This roadside red-and-white shack serves what it calls “taffy,” but it has the consistency of drywall and the flavor profile of a Slim Jim with intimacy issues. “We meat our candy needs,” Uncle Slappy shouts through a megaphone, as children recoil in mild horror. Their signature item, Ham Twizzles, was banned in three counties for being “texturally aggressive.” Still, tourists flock in for the Instagram and to meet the animatronic cow that sings doo-wop.
Cavity Gulch General Store & Tooth Archive
Set inside what appears to be an abandoned dentist’s office that never quite gave up, Cavity Gulch operates as both a candy shop and a shrine to dental decay. Glass jars filled with homemade root beer barrels sit beside laminated X-rays of local mouths gone rogue. There’s a wall of extracted molars in tiny Ziploc bags labeled “Billy, 1997” and “Sharon, hot tamales incident.” They sell only hard candies with weapon-grade density, and their slogan is “If your dentist wouldn’t approve, we double it.” The clerk wears scrubs and will absolutely floss in front of you.
Mimi’s Candy Confession Booth
Part old-fashioned candy counter, part Catholic confessional, Mimi’s offers customers the opportunity to unburden their souls while shoveling lemon drops into their faces. A velvet curtain separates the jellybean bins from a small wooden booth where you may hear: “Bless me, Mimi, for I have snacked.” Rumor has it Mimi is a retired improv comic who found salvation in sugar and secrets. She’ll slide you a peanut brittle and absolve you of whatever shame you’ve built up about stealing Necco Wafers in 2003. Some leave weeping. Others buy chocolate-covered marshmallow sins to go.
Dr. Sweettooth’s Experimental Candy Lab (Entrance Through PetSmart Bathroom)
Dr. Sweettooth is not a licensed doctor. Nor a chemist. Nor fully housetrained, judging by the time he tried to refrigerate nougat using only a leaf blower and menace. But that hasn’t stopped him from establishing the most talked-about—and OSHA-violating—candy lab in Memphis. Located in the forbidden hallway behind a PetSmart, this establishment deals in high-risk treats: wasabi Pop Rocks, sour patch squid jerky, cotton candy infused with caffeine and loose ambition. Every candy is made on-site with suspiciously loud equipment. The waiver is nine pages long. The TikToks? Chef’s kiss.
