At Tara Shaw Ltd., the antiques warehouse in New Orleans, Jack Shaw, the whippet, greets everyone at the door. "He's like Pavlov's dog," notes owner Tara Shaw. "Everytime the bell rings, it means he gets a treat." And he's not the only one salivating. It's like Christmas every day at the original emporium and the equally enticing shop in Houston, but several times a year, eager to-the-trade buyers from New York to California descend for the fabulous fetes announcing the arrival of new containers loaded with treasures from Shaw's shopping forays in Europe. "It's a blast, and it's by invitation only." A savvy merchandiser, Shaw creates vignettes "so designers and stores can sell the whole package from accessory to armoire." She is also ingenious when it comes to getting at the best – before anyone else. "I always want to beat the dealers' dealers," she smiles and recounts a few adventures. "South of France. Its July. Hot. Hot. Hot. I'm hiding in the back of the truck with a wool blanket over me like I'm one of the object. I have on black. We get inside. Security closes the gate. I get out. I rip off the blanket. I am head to toe covered in dog hair. I look like an Irish Wolfhound. I'm spitting hair out of my mouth, but I think, 'This is really a good disguise. Everyone in France has a dog.' All the hair was worth it because I got some great treasures that day." "There are always interesting moments in Europe. One day I'm running late to a fair. I have to park in the boondocks. At the end of the day I'm tired, I'm covered in dirt, my car is miles away. So I stick my thumb out and catch a ride on a motorcycle. I'm flying through this field at ninety miles an hour looking for my car, and I'm thinking, 'I've found hidden treasure and had another great adventure. This is what it's all about."

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