While shopping a few weeks back I found myself examining a wood-carved primitive figure, a six-inch fox-man with a detachable head and stitched-on clothing. The fabric was modern but the wood was weathered.

The price? The store I was in had a downtown address but a jumble sale vibe, and my fox lacked a tag.

The owner quoted the price to me in a sunny Caribbean voice: "Two-seventy-five."

Whew! Nope! The piece was giving me twinges of desire but no 275's worth.

Outside and back on the street, I skipped a step. Had he meant two hundred seventy five? Or two dollars and ...?

Because One People , 425 D St., between Fourth and Fifth Avenues, a few doors up from Cyrano's Theater, is the kind of shop where that kind of spread could be an issue. The good pieces sit next to the junk. Yesterday, for instance, my fox was gone (he must have been $2.75), but I could have walked out with a signed bronze statue (Laury Disengremel, $3,500) or the photo panorama of the New York skyline, printed on a Comfort Inn fan (No tag and the owner was out. But I'll bet if you've got a couple of bucks...). There was the clichéd 1960's head shop brass -- incense holders and Aladdin slippers -- but tossed down next to a thick broken-spined 16th annual report was an 1894-95 Geographical Survey with a lot of possibly valuable fold out maps. (No price. The assistant told me that Trevor wasn't selling any of his books. Then why did he have them out? She explained he had no other place to store them.)

There was a three-foot-tall, elaborately carved and commendably detailed Balinese dancing girl ($675) next to a shell-shaped ceramic ash tray welcoming visitors to Hawaii ($10). A small carved African bench ($250) with figural legs sat beside a molded Roman column made in China. (No tag but the assistant speculated that Trevor would take $5. If I were you, I'd offer $2.)

A two-foot-high purple and pink satin stuffed cartoon dog in 100 percent polyester from Casual Living (no tag and the assistant was busy) sits next to an eight-inch-high Peruvian statue in light polychromed clay. I thought the figure was expressing ecstasy until I noted that there was an emerging baby's head between her legs. (No tag; still busy.)

Off to the side in a section roughly dedicated to framed pictures, there was a 1973 memorial from Clark Air Force Base -- sketched scenes of returning soldiers, dedicated to the Vietnam prisoner of war which, if you had been one, would have meant a lot. But I was more interested in a posed photo of the cast of Melrose Place, signed in felt marker by each and every member.

The cavern-shaped space situates its genres together in a casual sort of way. Up front is mostly Native art, but these pieces intermingle with, for instance, a 12 by 16 original oil landscape, European pastoral, signed by the not very Native-sounding William Da Shazo ($9,500). There's the usual fossil and fur and some are even signed. But it's mostly new and I couldn't help but noticing that a wooden spear had its stone and ivory elements fastened not with baleen, but with plastic strapping($125).

As you wend your way around the store, towards the back are haphazard groupings of objects from India, then South America, and back up again to Indonesia. Next comes Africa mixed in with New Guinea, and then it's dozens and dozens of bright Russian nesting eggs (there's even a happy Putin if you're interested taking him into your home), and finally back up to Alaska. And it's all combined with yard sale and potentially (who knows?) valuable miscellanea.

But you have to hurry. The store says it's selling out. I was suspicious of the urgency implied by the 50 percent off sign until the assistant told me that Trevor had lost his lease, and she sounded genuinely worried about Trevor's next move. So if you're in the mood to dig and to bargain, and maybe walk out with a $2.75 fox (not mine; a different one) the posted cutoff is Sept. 17.