Funny the things you don’t think of until they become obvious. I was at my favorite bookstore yesterday, picking gingerly through the offerings, when I heard another customer in conversation with the proprietor.

“Here they are again—those people in the new clothing. Where are they all coming from?”

The bookseller glanced away—glanced my way, actually—and replied “Oh, they come from the future.”

I must confess, my heart skipped a beat, and I almost missed the next exchange.

“Truly? How do you know?”

“I worked it out. See you the white linen gloves they all wear? They strive not to smudge the books, as in time to come they will grow rare.”

“Hmph! Likely they make them rare, the way they buy them up.”

I colored slightly and concluded my business quickly. I would have preferred to stay, but our cover was blown. The visit was a partial success. I did get away with the copy of Loue’s Labour’s Wonne I had been after.

From this embarrassing incident I draw these observations and conclusions.

1. The local clothing doesn’t wash well, so the locals practically live in them until they fall apart. So of course our outfits look new to them, however authentic. We should make it a point to roll in the dirt a few times before going out.

2. The archival gloves are conspicuous. Ditch ’em for the local leather kind.

At least the language hadn’t tripped me up. Thank that old de Camp article and all those visits over the years to the Renaissance Pleasure Faire for that. Plainly, though, we should have given more thought to other things.

Anyway, the next time I’m in 1603, I’ll know better!

—Brian.