Stories from the Cape Part 1

I am back in town. I did not have much time to connect to the Internet as my friends are not the computer geek that I am, and it was OK, as a break from writing and art is important too.

The true joy of this vacation has been that I have been able to spend time with two good friends whom I worked with for years, but whom have left for bigger and better, and left me behind .

This year was a difficult year without them, but we have kept in touch and seen one another a few times a year. We have started a tradition of getting together to spend several days exploring, laughing, and exposing the deepest recesses of our hearts and celebrating out middle aged womanhood, which, by the way, is quite wonderful. Who said it sucks go grow older?! BAH.

We have an unspoken trust and caring for one another which we will have for the rest of our lives.

One of them lives in Orleans, so for the past two years we have gone to her house (a good 4.5 hours away) and explored Cape Cod in whatever way fits us.

One of the places that we ALWAYS go to is Provincetown, where we have whale watched, shopped, imbibed, watched fireworks and just wandered.

We have gone any number of places for an afternoon snack and refreshment, but we usually end up at the Mews Restaurant for a drink and dinner. One of today’s picture is of a sculpture in the garden of the Mews.

We did have one misadventure, and that was the journey into a store whose photo appears here, the shop called Giardelli Antonelli.

The door was latched and had a sign “ring bell for service”. We did, and the gentleman opened up the door and let us in. As we entered he sized us up and down for our clothes and our jewelry.

My friend walk over to a hat to look at it and he asks if he can help, in a tone which was very sharp. We said no, we were just looking for now.

We checked out the clothes. Lovely fabrics, but I commented to my friends that I did not like the necklines, but the fabrics and draping were stunning.

I headed over to the tank tops with necklines I would wear. As I was moving one out to see the fabric etc. he sharply said “these are handmade clothes, please don’t touch them.” I said “oh, I know about handmade” and he said “well then, you should know to use the hangers and not pull on the fabrics.” He was very nasty about the entire event. (I was not “pulling on the fabric”, rather feeling it and looking at the pattern) We all looked at one another, I said, let’s go, I will not look any further nor buy anything here, and this gentleman is a fool because he has no clue who we are”.

I am sure he decided we could not afford anything in his store which on his part was very foolish. If I had found something I had liked, I would have bought it. My friends and I appreciate wonderful things and will treat ourselves to something we love. And, we could indeed have afforded one of his designer pieces.

Instead I spent the money on a lovely handmade leather purse/backpack to carry my art and personal goods when hiking around. A much better investment, and the designer was a lovely person.

So Mr. Snobby shop owner/designer/salesperson, who ever you were, here is the story and a photo of your shop.

Buyers beware of elitism at its best in America.

Patti