Every late May, my street in Narberth, Pennsylvania, throws a yard sale and outside buffet dinner. Just about everybody knows I'm a jewelry journalist, so people always mosey on over at social events and request eyeball evaluations of their gems—usually diamonds but this year something new.

"You're Mr. Federman, aren't you?" asks a trim, attractive sandy-haired woman in her early thirties who looks both dressed to kill and to run ten miles afterwards. After I nod yes, she puts out a hand and says, "I'm Stacey Cohen. I live one street over on Chestnut Avenue." Without any transition, she asks me, "Do you know anything about Chinese pearls?" This is the kind of proud, prodding inquiry I get from home TV shoppers. After putting down my dinner plate, I admire her mixed, multicolored strands of Chinese freshwater pearls, her bracelet of the same, and her Tahitian pearl earrings.

"I know that most of the pearls you are wearing come from China," I answer. "Most people don't," she responds. "They think all pearls come from Japan. Boy, are they out of touch."

"Not for much longer," I quickly assure her. "It's next to impossible to go into a jewelry store these days and not see Chinese pearls." Then it hits me that I missed an important cue. So I add: "Of course, you're in front of the curve."

She thanks me, then says, "Tell me what you think about my pearls. You're a journalist and journalists are supposed to tell the truth."   ............ Page 1 of 10