I was in a second hand shop, not looking for anything. There was nothing I needed that day. Then I saw these gloves. More like gauntlets really, they had such wonderfully long cuffs, coming well past the wrist, which is unusual for someone like me, with long hands. I asked the lady their price, was told a story.
The gloves had been made by her daughter, as a gift for her husband. The daughter was a student of fashion. The gloves were beautifully made, carefully constructed. But Dad didn’t like them, had barely worn them.
So this was a locally made pair of hand crafted gloves, a one –off. They were felted wool, a slightly grey blue. The blue that is gentler on the eyes, softer, deeper than the standard bright blue that seems so prevalent. I hesitated to ask how much such a pair of gloves, made with love, barely worn, so beautiful, might be.
$3 was the reply, an amount so low as to be an insult to the gloves and their maker, but I didn’t argue. I had it in change.
Less than a week later, having worn them only two or three times, I lost them. I’ve pined for them ever since.
Now, I had other gloves. I didn’t need those blue ones, wasn’t looking for them. But now that they are gone, I long for them. They have taken on almost mythical qualities.
Now I longer have them, they are the prefect gloves. Have you seen them?