In the following excerpt, I use description to give an earthy, tie-dyed, groovy picture of the Bohemian flock:
Paul noticed Skye and shook his hand. “Hey, glad you could make it. Ruthanne called me to say you were coming.” He looked down at her. “I notified the girls.”
Her hand flew to her open mouth. “You didn't!”
Skye looked at Ruthanne and then at Paul. “The girls?”
Ruthanne's gaze darted around the foyer as she placed her hand on Skye's arm. “Four of Hannie's friends. They are remarkable artisans and have sort of formed a club with Hannie as their leader.”
“What? Like the Ya-Ya Crafthood?”
“Something like that. They're all about the same age and—”
“There he is!”
Skye turned at the sound of a woman fast approaching him, her sandaled feet slapping the tiled floor. Short, burgundy hair adorned her head, and she seemed weighted down with the turquoise jewelry around her neck and on each finger. Three other women trailed after her like naturally greying tails on a brightly colored kite.
Oh, great! Granola-fueled earth mothers.
For a visual on how this is done, watch Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window. Jimmy Stewart has a broken leg and to pass the time, he watches his apartment dwelling neighbors out his window. We never meet any of the minor characters that he observes, but we know all about them by their actions. The most poignant being the one nicknamed Miss Lonely Heart, who can't seem to get an even break with the men she brings home. Just when it looks like she's about ready to kill herself with pills, a song drifts into the courtyard from the musicians that Stewart is also watching. She stops and listens to the song, and we know that she's decided not to commit suicide. Later, we see her in the apartment with the band, telling them how much she loves that song, and we know the song saved her life.
Minor characters should have their own song to sing, and it's up to us, the writers, to allow them their spotlight.