"Shoplifters Will be Experimented On," a sign warns shoppers at Dollar-a-Pound. The rock music and pink and blue brick walls indicate they're not kidding.

Then again, by the time shoppers enter the crumbling pink-shingled building that houses Dollar-a-Pound, couched between rows of immaculate glass skyscrapers and imposing MIT labs, they should know to expect something different.

"Dollar-a-Pound Plus!" enthuses a more welcoming sign outside the building. "Experienced Clothes, Books, and Much More!"

The 'much more' in Dollar-a-Pound and its upstairs counterpart, The Garment District, includes everything from giant bins of shoes to underwear with a fried egg applique.

In Dollar-a-Pound, most of the merchandise is worth less than its 25 cent to $1.50-a- pound price tag.

Wading through the sea of clothes--there's no walkway through the mounds, Emily A. M. Funk surveys the scene.

Now living in upstate New York, Funk has been coming to Dollar-a-Pound for many of its 29 years.

"Dollar-a-Pound is mostly junk," she admits. "But upstairs is awesome. I've found a lot of my clothes there."

Funk glances down at her nondescript outfit of jeans and a long-sleeve shirt.

"Well, I'm dressed pretty normal today," she says apologetically.

Apparently, she needs a trip upstairs.

An alien painted on the wall directs shoppers to the second floor for "The Garment District, the coolest place in the whole universe!"

At the entrance, massive commercial displays push Halloween masks, Southern Belle wigs, feather boas and fishnet body-stockings at prices comparable to Urban Outfitters': $14 for a "'70s Afro Wig," $10 for glittery sunglasses.

Kids run around trying on masks and swinging on clothes racks (they have them here, unlike downstairs), while older trick-or-treaters paw through jewelry and Manic Panic nail polish.

"We don't have a Christmas rush, we have a Halloween rush," said Kim, a Garment District employee and student at U. Mass. The Garment District is staying open for two extra hours until Oct. 31 to accommodate the rush.

Other than Halloween, most customers are looking for deals on everyday clothes.

Emerson College student Judy M. Craigo is on one such mission to find winter clothes, and has her eye on a $10 leather coat.

"It just needs a little love," she says, fingering its worn-through pockets.

The customers are as assorted as The Garment District's decor--a man in head-to-toe leather and chains stands next to a man in a coat and tie.

The decor itself, though, is uniformly bizarre. Motorcycles and car engines hang from the ceiling, and in the middle of the otherwise conservative button-down shirt rack, a huge silver pegasus statue rears its head.

Even the employees, sporting dark eye-makeup, tattoos or baggy cargo pants, coordinate.

The owners of Dollar-a-Pound created the Garment District in 1987, after Dollar-a-Pound started consigning funkier items that could go for more than, well, a dollar a pound.

But Funk, for one, says that marketing plan is wearing thin.

"I haven't been so happy recently," Funk says. "They restyle all the cool stuff and charge, like, 50 bucks."

Still, considering the rage over vintage clothing, customers say The Garment District has not raised prices as much as other consignment shops.

"The vintage stuff is good," says Julia A. Blake, a North Shore resident. "Prices have gone up somewhat but not as much as other places."

But all the savvy shoppers unite on one issue: they scorn the ultra-expensive "restyled" section. The knee-high white plastic boots are attracting envious looks from a pair of shoppers, but they're refusing to pay the $59 price tag.

They move on, perhaps to the underwear with a fried egg applique, but don't seem defeated.

They seem to subscribe to the mantra of The Garment District and Dollar-a-Pound: shop happy.

"It rules!" shouts Kim, thrusting her fist into the air. "It's a happy place."