Monica Vidaurri, the store manager and Herrera’s sister, says the botanica is now attracting an economically diverse clientele, including doctors, lawyers, and politicians seeking its services: tarot card readings, spiritual cleansings, and guidance for dealing with the saints. People invoke St. Benedict, the saint of exorcisms, for aid in dealing with legal issues or for charms to keep them from getting pulled over. Real estate agents come in looking for St. Joseph statues, which they’ll bury in a corner of a front yard to help them sell a house.
“I sell a lot of sage, I sell a lot of stuff for cleansings, I sell a lot of candles,” Vidaurri says. “People will light a candle for all kinds of reasons. If a family member’s sick, if they’re sick, they’ll come and look for a candle to see what might make them feel better. There’s a love candle to bring [people] together. We do breakup candles, too. … There’s something for every kind of situation.”

A selection of candles. Photo: Will van Overbeek
Some elements of the botanica can worry the uninitiated. Vidaurri’s office holds statuary for more specialized practices, including several figures of Santa Muerte, the macabre-looking skeleton saint, who protects those who work at night. Vidaurri has a shrine to Santa Muerte tucked between her desk and the wall, where it’s easy to overlook, with offerings of wine, candy, and flowers below the lowering skull. It’s there for protection, Vidaurri says. The botanica business can be surprisingly cutthroat, and it’s always good to have a higher power looking out for your interests.
That desire for a bit of help is what draws people in to peruse La Caridad’s shelves, to sit on the wooden pews in the waiting room, and to go with Herrera into the room where the spirits live. In the botanica, Vidaurri says, it doesn’t matter what you believe in, so long as you believe in something. “Everybody has some kind of faith in something, and that’s where we come along and help guide them to where they’re at a better place.”