INT. SAINT-TROPEZ MILLINERY. DAY.

THE DANDRIDGE SISTERS merrily stroll into the exclusive millinery and are met with a frosty reception. 

The gay laughter and back and forth banter among the fashionably dressed, daring hat wearing SOCIETY MATRONS comes to a screeching halt as all eyes light on the new arrivals.

They stare at THE DANDRIDGE SISTERS in ghastly horror, with hand-painted demitasse cups frozen in place at their gaping mouths.

VIVIAN and ETTA, feeling the heat from the hostilely glaring eyes, exchange uneasy looks.

                         ETTA
                (quietly)
      Is it me—or is it colder in here 
      than it is outside?
 
                        VIVIAN
                (fearfully)
      I think we're in the wrong place.
 
                       DOROTHY
      Not me.

She gazes wide-eyed at the elaborate display cases of gleaming jewelry, the racks of bronzed calf leather handbags, and the colorful HERMÈS silk scarves.

Then she lays eyes on something that makes her catch her breath.  It is the pièce de résistance—a long shelf of voguish hats perched on head-stands.