Now we aren’t a debutante type of family. And I haven’t heard too many stories of my ‘greats’ attending evening balls. But at the bottom of a cupboard in the back bedroom I found two pairs of unworn, as new white kid ladies gloves. They are so soft you just want to sit and stroke them. The silk scarf conjures images of a dashing pair in the 1920’s or maybe even earlier. He, with his scarf tossed nonchalantly around his neck. His black tie and tails, starched and pressed white dress shirts and gold cufflinks. She in a long white dress, a corsage on her breast and a little black fur wrap in the days before fur was bad. The evening bag would glitter with sewn on sequins and imitation pearls and the white gloves with their distinctive pattern would complete her elegance. Who would not admire this pair? She links his arm as they step down from their cab and sway into the ballroom, smiling and greeting friends, then cutting a dash on the dance-floor.
And yet somehow those gloves were never worn. What story does that tell? A broken romance? A lover lost in the War? Somehow the gloves and those scarves were treasured and taken care of through the generations. They were special to someone. Maybe now they have found the light of day again they will be worn by a bride, loved by a retro teen or form a costume for the theatre. And they have fed my imagination and given us a story if only for a moment