A long time ago, when I posted about the collective nouns for costuming I neglected to think of a collective noun for gloves.
Surely though, a collection of gloves must be a romance of gloves.
Is anything more romantic than a pair of vintage gloves? Slightly worn and shaped to the hands of the wearer, redolent with the memories of the events they were worn to, the hands that held them as they whirled round the room in a dance, the personages they met and shook gloves with, the memorable moments that accrued the slight stains and soil marks.
A fan is a wonderful, beautiful thing, but a glove…ah…a glove was worn next to the skin, and touched the skin of others. It felt and caressed and gripped and saw everything. A glove is a personality.
The wonderful, fabulous Elise, of all those gorgeous vintage dresses and capes, found another beautiful collection to send me: her great-grandmothers gloves. She suggested I might want to cut them up, but I only do that to very damaged, soiled, missing-their-partners storyless gloves. These gloves are staying as a collection: an evocation of one woman’s life. A story.