Marigold

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. A regular dropped off his shirts one afternoon and noticed something odd in the corner of the shop. Amongst the usual hangers and boxes sat an old, dusty hatbox, its lid ajar and inside—a top hat that seemed to belong to no one. The man picked up the hat curiously and placed it on his head, only to hear a faint whisper: ‘Finally, someone who appreciates me!’ Startled, he looked around but saw nobody else there. That night, when collecting his cleaned shirts, he found another note slipped into them—‘Next time bring your pants too.’

2. A delivery driver pulled up to Marigold Dry Cleaning one morning, frowning as he noticed an old lady muttering to herself near the entrance. ‘I thought I told you last week,’ she said, pointing at her empty hands, ‘no more pink polka-dotted bags!’ The delivery driver smiled and shook his head, handing over a plain brown bag. ‘Trust me, ma’am, no more pink polka dots today!’ The old lady nodded, satisfied, and waved goodbye. From then on, whenever anyone asked about Marigold’s unusual clientele, they’d just smile and say, ‘Oh, that’s Mrs. Johnson—she’s got a thing for those bags.’

3. A neighbor walked into Marigold Dry Cleaners one evening, muttering, ‘I swear I saw that shirt move.’ The clerk glanced over and casually replied, 'That’s just Mr. Jones’ shirt—he does that when he’s late picking it up.' The neighbor shook his head, grinning, as he left. A week later, a delivery driver remarked, ‘Hey, did you hear about Marigold? They’ve got some kind of ghostly shirt!’ And ever since then, whenever anyone mentions Marigold Dry Cleaners, someone always adds, ‘Did you hear about the moving shirt?’

4. A neighbor walked into Marigold Dry Cleaners one evening, muttering, ‘I swear I saw that same old shirt on the rack again today.’ The owner smiled and nodded knowingly. 'That’s our secret,' she whispered. 'We keep a few favorites around for sentimental reasons.' The neighbor shook his head with a smile, realizing he’d been had—until next time, when maybe it really was the same shirt again.