Nevada City, CA — It should come as no surprise that Nevada City’s latest retail venture in the vacant Alpha Building involves inmate-made leather wallets, license plates, and ashtrays. The entire stock of the San Quentin Handicraft Shop has found a new home on Broad Street, thanks to Stacy Grant—Cottage Street’s most notorious busybody and self-appointed community visionary.
Stacy, the daughter of a man who claims to be related to Lyman Gilmore (the Grass Valley eccentric who insisted he invented modern flight before the Wright Brothers), has now added “prison-made home goods” to her list of quirky passions. If you were thinking that Nevada City couldn’t get weirder, you’d be wrong.
Introducing “The Lockdown Luxe”—Stacy’s brainchild thrift store stocked entirely with items handmade by the inmates of San Quentin. Nothing says Broad Street chic like a shiv holder made by someone serving 25-to-life.
“My dad always told me to think big, be bold,” Stacy says with the kind of conviction you normally reserve for discussing actual family ties to world-changing inventors. “He’s an inventor, you know? Related to Lyman Gilmore. So naturally, I thought, why not take this opportunity and open a store that’s one of a kind? San Quentin’s finest deserve a second chance… and so do their ashtrays.”
If you thought Stacy was the star of this bizarre saga, think again. Enter Toby “Doob” Carnevale, Nevada City’s resident laid-back legend. Known for always being at the Mine Shaft Saloon and never paying his tab, Doob has a gift for one thing: knowing exactly what’s happening around town, even if he’s usually too lazy to care. Despite his well-known aversion to anything resembling work, Doob somehow got roped into helping Stacy run the shop.
The reason?
“Stacy said I could hang out here and get free kombucha.” He says this while reclining in a chair, feet up on a San Quentin-made coffee table. “Plus, I dig the vibe. It’s gritty. Real.”
Doob’s approach to selling merchandise is as passive as you’d expect.
“It’s, uh… made in prison… if you’re into that,” he mumbles to a tourist, gesturing vaguely toward a leather belt. “I mean, it’s pretty cool… kinda dark… but, like, authentic, ya know?”
Stacy, meanwhile, is too busy enthusiastically organizing a display of prison-made keychains to notice that Doob is doing about as much work as you’d expect from someone who thinks “employment” is a state of mind.
The Grand Opening: Broad Street’s Latest Spectacle
As you might expect, the grand opening of The Lockdown Luxe was an event only Nevada City could pull off. The Jailhouse Rockers, a local band with a strangely niche repertoire of Johnny Cash prison songs, played an acoustic set. Tourists and locals alike flocked to the store, lured by the promise of artisan snacks (which Stacy insisted were symbolic of prison reform) and the chance to see if they, too, could find the perfect inmate-made gift for that special someone.
“I wasn’t sure about the ashtrays,” said one local hipster, swirling his handcrafted cold brew. “But then Stacy explained how each is a unique expression of human redemption. So I bought three.”
Naturally, Doob was behind the counter. Eyes half-closed as he occasionally glanced up from his latest issue of Nevada City Beat, aka the newspaper that isn’t a newspaper but just what Doob calls his random knowledge of town gossip.
What’s in a Store?
Of course, The Lockdown Luxe isn’t just a shop—it’s a statement. At least, that’s how Stacy would describe it if you cornered her at a City Council meeting, where she’s been trying (unsuccessfully) to convince the town that this venture is exactly what Nevada City needs to “foster economic growth through artistic rehabilitation.”
“It’s like my dad always says,” she beams, “invention runs in our family bloodline. We’re here to bring people together through art. Even if that art was made by someone who might have… let’s say… a checkered past.”
For those new to the area, Stacy’s father has been telling everyone for years that he’s related to Lyman Gilmore, the man who claimed he flew a powered airplane before the Wright Brothers. Is there any evidence of this? Not really. But that hasn’t stopped Stacy from believing she’s got aviation pioneer in her blood—and now, a prison handicraft empire, too.
Doob, meanwhile, remains unconvinced. “I don’t know about all that. I just think it’s funny that I’m selling wallets made by a guy in solitary.” He shrugs, sipping his kombucha. “People love weird stuff. And I guess that’s what Nevada City’s about. Weird stuff.”
Ultimately, The Lockdown Luxe isn’t just a quirky store in a quirky town. It’s a testament to Stacy Grant’s tireless dedication to seeing potential where others see… well, prison-made ashtrays. And for Doob, it’s a chance to keep tabs on the latest town gossip while doing the least amount of actual work possible.
If you’re looking for a place that embodies the spirit of Nevada City—where the boundaries between art, commerce, and eccentricity are as thin as a handmade San Quentin wallet—you’ve found it. And hey, if you’re in the market for an inmate-crafted license plate, this might be the spot for you.
