There's something about putting on and, especially, taking off a glove. I don't know what it is, exactly, that I find so transporting about this very ordinary action. But when I'm wearing gloves - especially nicer ones, thin leather ones - and I enter a building, walking and taking off one glove first, pulling at the finger ends, loosening, then sliding the glove off and clasping it in the other still-gloved hand, I feel like I'm on stage or, more so, in a movie. Every single time I do this little movement, no matter where I am or how otherwise shabbily I'm dressed, I feel quite elegant, glamorous even. I always feel delightfully cinematic.
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Streisand brushing the lock of hair from Redford's face at the end of The Way We Were.
ReplyDeleteMy mother kept her cloth and kid leather dress gloves in the left hand side of her mirrored vanity. I used to love to sit on the dainty chair in front of it, open that drawer and try them on. They were all scented with her perfume and it felt so very grown-up to be wearing them, if only for a few moments of dress-up. I still have a few pair of her gloves, the scent has faded away, but not the memory.
ReplyDeleteWhat a very lovely memory, Gretchen. And so beautifully told. Thank you for sharing that. S
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