Not my own experience, but that of Paul Katrich, walking with the 'wrong bunch of people'.....

"THE SOUNDS of SILVER": Some years ago, I was guest at the charity opening of an opulent New York antiques show. I found myself tapped as the unofficial tour guide for a group of the more than mildly affluent, dressed in "Manhattan Smart Casual" lest they arouse too much attention. As since the dawn of civilization, the dealers smelled potential, eyeing us like bears during a salmon run. We moved from booth to booth; the treasures of ages splayed before us by merchants in full obsequious flower. A celebrated procuror from "the Old South" invited us into his lair. He specialized in ornate association items; objects once possessed by one of the numbered Louis of France, their mistresses, or other unmentionables among the great and infamous of epochs past. As if preparing for a seance, our little coven was gently seated at an elaborately decorated marquetry table, purportedly from the boudoir of Napoleon III. With a flourish, our host produced his prize du jour, an elegant covered silver tankard crafted by the hands of Paul Revere (asking price, a million & change). Smelling more immediate prey, the gentleman became preoccupied, leaving us with the patriot lucre. Temptation reared its head...one of our Chanel coated ladies grabbing for the item like a Sunday morning breakfast habitue after a syrup jug at the International House of Pancakes. With a sickening "CLANK", the tankard was destined for the hard stone floor. My soul left my body, giving forth an involuntary scream, while lunging after as if viewing a child on the railroad tracks. Impelled by my operatic squeal, formidable guards ran in from every quarter. Appraising the situation, the relieved dealer very nearly kissed me in an excess of misplaced passion. "Hardly a man is now alive; Who remembers that famous day and year..."