"Inside my shop, where I keep all my spare fabric. Here." He opens the door to the last trailer in the convoy. "It's just a couple doors down inside." He'll lead the way confidently through the narrow corridor between storefronts, pushing open the plexiglass door to his own.

It's not much of a shop, more of a workplace. There are tables piled high with folded fabric, scraps, and pattern paper, much of it slightly worse for wear as it's been scavenged and pulled apart from damaged items of clothing or furniture.