I'm with a couple of other people at a crafts show - part of it's outside, part in. Inside I'm looking at some neat jewellery, some I've seen before or at least the same artists. It's darkish here, and there's a big glass case that's very low to the ground, and faces the back wall - don't know what's in front of me. There's an old man comes up, he's delighted with something I did for him [I don't remember what] and thanks me at great length. He's the father of one of the women I'm with and I don't want to upset anybody by asking him to go away. He's [either wearing or has, on his hat] a silver piece, an Art Nouveau woman's head, I think, set in ribbon or something, very pretty, and I admire it, mentioning it to the lady whose booth it is, telling her (since I can't get a word in edgewise with the old man) I have one just like it at home, except his is silver and mine's pewter, without the frills. It came from her shop, she's pleased. He goes away and I look around some more, especially the lighted case where there are loose stones at the bottom. I sit on the floor to look and open the door. (I look up once to see if anybody minds.) It's a sliding glass door with no lock. There are very interesting rocks in here, especially some that remind me of scarabs but aren't quite. There are some brown variegated ones that I hold up to my ears, and look in the mirror. The bigger pieces sit out by themselves and the little ones are in dishes. Someone wants to show me a couple of articles in a box, a green box. One of them is leather with hide still on it and for a second I don't know what it is, then I realize it goes round the neck; first I think it buttons or snaps, then I see it slips on over the head. It's a kind of bib-collar affair, meant for keeping your neck and chest and shoulders warm and the chill out. Very Eskimo-y looking, has a nice woven design on, I like it a lot. Somebody says something about the funny things people get themselves up in, and I say, "Consider that there was a time when there were no coats - people used to wear cloaks, you know - that was how you kept yourself warm." I am admiring the collar in the mirror. I like it a lot. We go to a place outside now, I take off the collar. There are a lot of people out here milling around rather like a cocktail party or Sunday after church - not actually looking at things. There's a mirror hanging up on the fence or back of a building and we try things on and look at ourselves. The girl who has the stuff here wants to show me a shawl, she says it's the last one of its group, a specialty thing she did, she thinks I should try it on. She pulls it out and I walk to the mirror with it, looking for the tag and when I see what I think is the price I'm astounded - does it really say $1295? (Actually it has a British pound sign written above it but it's just that affectation.)* It certainly is nice, but not that nice. I open it out and try to pull it straight behind me so as to wrap it around but it keeps getting out of my grip, so as I walk I seem to be flying it out behind me like a flag. Which is okay with me, I feel quite flamboyant. I see in the faces milling around a particular man that I like the looks of - he seems very sharp-dressed, handsome, interesting. Suits me to be noticeable. I go to the mirror, flinging the shawl around me dashingly. I see it's definitely brown and white (looks like an overgrown version of the alpaca scarf Melanie made me), and it goes rather well with the heavy sweater that I can now see I'm wearing. I like it.