One day in 2000, mom took me through the back streets of Khan El-Khalili in Cairo to the hidden but well-stocked edifice of a man who goes by the pious name of "El Hagg Mahmoud." The name indicates that the man is a good Muslim who had performed the Hajj, or the annual pilgrimage to Mecca. It is one of the peculiarities of Cairean life that the local population found it not the least bit odd that the self-proclaimed pious man should specialize in providing belly-dance costumes and related whimsical accoutrements to the highest class of belly dancer and painted lady in Egypt, which is what he did. El Hagg Mahmoud, in fact, was a purveyor of beaded scarves (a la Shakira, who is rumored [mostly by me] to buy her garments from him), veils, harem pants, candelabra hats (ask me), and, of course, belly dance costumes, to a wide variety of clientèle, from dance troupes to belly dancers, and from well-heeled tourists to elite members of the demimonde.
Mom, of course, loved the place; she had been a customer for years to the four-storey store. "It is true," she told me, "that you can buy the same items from other stores at half the price, but nowhere else do you have the chance to meet such interesting people."
That's mom for you, in a nutshell.
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