Les Pauvres Americains

A reinforced squad of Customs inspectors trooped into Manhattan's Pier 86 one day last week to snare the 1,558 passengers of the liner United States, just in from Europe. Reason: the allowance for duty-free purchases abroad had been changed from $500 to $100--a step aimed at stemming the U.S. gold drain. Total purchases over the $100 limit are now subject to taxes.

Many passengers were indignant. Said one irate New Yorker: "How can a woman have a good time in Europe and still limit herself to only $100?" The more knowing grumbled that Congress had taken so long to act that the gold drain had virtually stopped anyway, and the cutback was no longer necessary.

Even more indignant were European shopkeepers, who have already begun to feel the effect of new customs regulations. Said a Neapolitan merchant: "We never thought Kennedy would pass such an anti-democratic law." Cried another: "This damned law is ruining my business. We show them fine jewelry, and they say: 'It's wonderful, but we can't spend more than $100.'" In Paris, a salesgirl in a Rue Royale glove shop said: "Oh, les pauvres Americains I Eef zis 'appen to us, we would do avrysing een our power to disobey, even smuggling. But zee Americains are too weel deesciplined to do sings like zat."

Without so much as a thought of smuggling, many travelers have already found a way to keep their sense of duty without paying for it. Rather than buying the usual perfumes, cashmeres, cameras and bone china, they have found that antiques make some of the best bargains in Europe (e.g., a London shop sells a fine cut-glass Georgian decanter, circa 1770, for $15; or, for the collector's library, Discovery of a World in the Moone, written in 1638 by Bishop Wilkins of Chester, for $75). And certified antiques are items that age cannot wither nor Customs nail--they are still 100% duty-free.

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