Velma nodded along as her new rooming house friend expounded on the politics of buying handmade. Then retreated to her room. She had a lot to think about. She sat in her hardbacked chair staring out the window while the radio in the corner droned smooth jazz. Velma surveyed her sitting room and considered a brief lie-down as she re-thought a lifetime of carefree consumption. Her life was neither lavish nor elaborate, certainly. Urbanization and factory-made clothes had been signs of sophistication, she defended silently, progress! Once prone in her silent space she remembered her seamstress Auntie’s occasional dressmaking; they’d gotten ice cream each time. Dreams of ice cream treats with Auntie.