The milliner on Maple Street has begun issuing straw boaters no wider than a postage stamp. Drafts collect them at the counter, try the angle in the shop window, and step outside looking rather pleased with themselves.
We asked at the kiosk across the way. "I used to clutch my scarf," said a man with a paper cup. "This morning the breeze tipped its brim and let me keep my hair. I tipped mine back. Seemed only fair."
A card in the window from the milliner: please return the hat if a cloud looks serious, and do not wear it indoors. The geraniums on the sill have started nodding whenever a dressed-up draft goes by, which she says is the best fitting room in town.