| Treasure Town -- Albuquerque
Signs inside and outside this large thrift store proudly list its name as "Treasure Town -- A Village of Value!" in lettering which is entirely too cheerful. The place smells like mothballs and loneliness; it is a museum of the unwanted. Treasure Town is where the worst (or best, depending on how you look at it) of eBay comes to die.
Florescent lighting buzzes and flickers down on the merchandise: furniture, dishes, knick-knacks, books, toys, clothing, shoes, even ancient sporting goods linger here with stubborn pride, unapologetic about their varied failures in both form and function. Half the floor space seems to be taken up with the clothing and shoes, the other half devoted to furniture and everything else. The Treasure Town staff are pathologically reluctant to help customers, and only the most determined shoppers will actually be able to make a purchase. There are diamonds in the rough here... but one will have to sort through a lot of rough to find them.
('Places' and +views are available here. If your character would like to purchase any of the objects specifically listed in the places and +views, please send +mail to Industry so the descriptions can be updated accordingly.)
| Associated People
| Floral Sofa:|
A large beige couch, liberally festooned with enormous maroon cabbage-roses. There is something hostile about this furniture, and somehow it seems quite feral despite its grandmotherly print and soft, plush appearance. It's simply been too long since it had frequent interaction with humans, and it needs to be rehabilitated.
A pair of wingback chairs, with slightly scuffed wooden legs, and brass-nail trim. The chairs are upholstered in tangerine-colored velour, and the chair's back is button-tufted for that classic wingback look. Each chair is accompanied by a fine fat ottoman; one is a blue-violet color and the other is fire-engine red. Neither matches the style of the chairs, but they can provide additional places to sit.
A long wooden table, with ornately carved edges and legs. It is surrounded by eight chairs -- six at the edges, and one each at the head and the foot of the table. None of the chairs match one another, but like an eclectic group of friends, they seem to belong together despite (and perhaps because of) their differences.
A folding card table, with a green felt top. The felt is trying desperately to peel away from one corner, curling upwards and resisting all attempts to stick it back down. The four chairs accompanying the table are also folding, padded a bit, but by no means lush. One chair wobbles.
Simple stalls with solid beige curtains for privacy. Full-length mirrors in each stall allow the customer to admire his or her clothing selections. Those rainbow striped hot pants look soooo good!
Treasure Town has a wide variety of used books lurking along one wall, rows and rows of unwanted literature lining the shelves. The selection is largely unorganized: classics and textbooks discarded by students perch next to has-been bestsellers from Oprah's book club. Ancient, outdated encyclopedias share space with Choose Your Own Adventure books and tattered How To Draw collections. There are some rare out-of-print gems here, but only a dedicated seeker will find them.
There are racks and racks of clothing and shoes, vaguely organized in terms of gender, size, and clothing type. The staff is not diligent about maintaining this organization system, however, and it isn't uncommon to find size four slacks next to a size twelve dress. The clothing is always inexpensive and comes in every type and variety imaginable: from ugly holiday sweaters to unwanted prom dresses, from tie-dye yin-yang t-shirts to old business suits. The clothes and shoes are in good condition, however odd, and a dedicated or lucky shopper will be able to score some fine-lookin' thrifty threads.
The world is full of Stuff, and Treasure Town is a natural stop along the tchotchke life cycle. Unusual and unloved artifacts end up here -- trash patiently waiting to become someone else's treasure. Only rarely do the knick-knacks have any functional purpose; usually they are simply someone's odd idea of decorative or cute. Some of the items include:
A large ceramic vase sculpted in a pseudo-Tuscan style, glazed in a "retro" mix of brown, green, and blue colors
A small, cutesy porcelain sculpture of a teddy bear pushing a stroller
A poorly-executed painting of a cheerful (and therefore creepy) circus clown held aloft by a bouquet of balloons
A clock which plays recordings of a different annoying bird song for each hour