Welcome to Gaia! ::

It was always a good habit to check out all the local 'competition' and to know all the places one could find supply. Antiques were everywhere, and she wasn't present at every estate auction, no, not by far. She didn't know everyone in high society either to convince every little old lady in a mink stole that if their friend was looking to clear up the parlor to call her first before arranging for other sale options.

This one had a clean, respectable look. It was in a clean....respectable neighborhood. She was clean, though tank tops were debatably 'respectable'. They could deal with it if there was a problem. A shirt was a shirt was a shirt, and if they made a fuss about it's lacking middle-America panache then she'd give them something to oogle by taking it off.

The inside was much more promising- the store was deeper than it was wide, aisles stretching back to walls with large paintings in extreme gilt frames. The layout was decently organized even- furniture together and separate from vintage clothing and toys, glassware, china, magazines...everything she could hope to find. She only eyed the aisles a minute, planning a path of attack for later. First...the register. A fine piece of male flesh manning the station. Decent shade of flaxen blonde, pretty aryan features, and eyes that looked refreshingly sharp compared to the humdrum glaze of the general public.

"Worker ant or owner of the establishment?" She quipped on her approach. It was possible enough that a trust-fund pretty, or internet entrepreneur could own a business...unusual the choice of one if it were so. He looked like he could be the upper-echelon espresso-and-oxygen bar sort with a hotwire into wallstreet and six girlfriends on speed dial.

“Cryptic and elusive. A tight nit operation?“ Inheritance of some sort? He might be the son or nephew or whatever of the owner then. That would explain the apparent …somewhat lethargic attendance to the store and motivated attendance to his phone. Typical of the youth, anymore. He didn’t look THAT young though. Whether or not he was legitimate jail-bait was in the air so far.

“Furniture, Georgian, preferably American make since we’re standing on U.S. soil. Though if you have a particularly authentic …rare European piece, I’ll have a look. So much stuff early imported wasn’t top of the line it isn’t worth looking at, but there’s the occasional estate that paid the top dollar as well as the shipping. “

“If a piece has seen better days, it isn’t an issue.” She held out a long-fingered hand in a more formal greeting, “Marinus.”

Hopefully he would have a firm grip. There was little more disappointing that all the posing youth who didn't understand or appreciate the effective social communication of the handshake - it told everything about someone's self-esteem. “I’ve been to most of the antiquarian’s in the yellow pages, but I’m still working my way down the list. So far yours appears one of the more organized.”

"Fifty years isn't so bad for a country with only two-hundred-thirty odd years to its constitution." His smile was satisfactory, to be sure, "Authenticity is better augmented rather than supplemented- what are your sources usually for buying? Local Estates? Destiny City’s historic quarter is not as wide as one might hope for the Appalachian Mountains and the East coast.”

“Or any inroads with the museums?” That would be a welcome bonus if they did. Referrals for pieces that were museum-interest level, but that the museum didn’t want to buy…that could be profitable for both of them. No use getting hopes too high. Fifty years wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t very long either. That meant the shop was from the 1960, comparably to some establishments up in Boston that had been in operation since the 1870s or earlier. But even having Georgian pieces…that was a start for something that was the brain child of the FreeLove and tie-dye era.

“Oh, no, you mistake me. I’m not interested in a specific single piece. I wish to see all of them. My budget for business is flexible, and if there are multiple pieces I’m interested in from a source, I buy them all.”

“In a business of finite availability and demand, it is best to buy things when found rather than coming back later and coming back to an empty space where someone else already purchased it.”

Good. That is promising.

"I'm a professional restoration and conservation artist; furniture is my specialty - dismantling, re-gluing, woodworking, glass work, inlay, leather and fabric re-upholstering, stripping and refinishing. I only use natural , traditional materials to ensure future artisans can easily repair over top what I've done if the occasion arises. So I'm often looking for new pieces to entertain me with techniques and challenges. "

"Last week I finished a Edwardian Bijouterie table from Milton in the UK , marquetry inlaid mahogany. Decorated with gilt metal mounts to the knees that were season cracked. No working lock or key, so I had to whip up new ones in brass."

She walked down the aisle, trailing off while tasks claimed attention. He had things to pull up and likely as not wasn't into the nitty-gritty of the techniques trade. It was idle chatter, anyway, which meant it wasn't necessary. The problem with shops that were highly organized was that they also usually only showed pieces that were in fair or better condition already. Show floors were for casual buyers who wanted usability immediately catered to. She could restore these, but the margin of profit was almost nonexistent. The bow front hanging corner cupboard, though, was a handsome piece.

1820, oak, missing its handles and the stain is worn from hand use. But the wood is overall sound and fine-grained. The price tag was usd 1060, which was more or less reasonable for turning a profit and ensuring serious buyers. She returned to the front and the ....helpful young man, "Is the corner cupboard imported or native? I have a smoking lounge it might work out for...the wood matches one of the humidors."

He didn't look glassed from the list, which was more promising. "Do you handle any restorations here in shop yourselves?"

"I'll take the piece, " she hated it when people waffled back and forth about purchases in stores, often needing reassurances and cajoling from shopping friends. "Do you prefer plastic, check or cash? I don't make it a hobby to carry around that much on person, but the banks are still open."

She didn't care which really, but she had been to some old-timey establishments that only accepted checks or cash like plastic was some sort of kryptonite.

"Do you smoke?"

Stroud fished her leather bifold out of her pocket and pulled out her card and offered it over. it was the only platinum she carried, and one of only three cards. She didn't like credit cards much, or the institute of creditors, but it did come in as a convenience at some times as one didn't want to be beholden to having a suitcase full of bills handcuffed to one's wrist. As a matter of course, she offered over her driver's license with it as identification since the purchase was pricey.

While he processed them she put on a brief mock frown before clearing it again to a pleasant smile, "Pity that. Health conscious? I've got a luxury House of Crowns Twist Flake tobacco imported from London that arrived just a couple of days ago. You'd be comfortable on the Queen Anne chaise, it looked, with a holder and a cigarette."

Signatures were the work of a moment - hers a practiced, precise cursive with sharp terminations of the loops and flourished capital S and M. After that, she pulled a card case from her pocket and slid a silk-finished, hot foil and die-cut round edged business card onto the counter, "If 'a woman' and her badgering is all that is needed to stop you, maybe cajoling be all that is needed to make you fun again, like a kiss for sleeping beauty. "

"My number and address are on the card. If you're interested, and also for the delivery of the piece. Any time is fine. I'll have cash ready for the delivery charges. "