I bought this rather nice and expensive winter coat last year. It is black, woolen and lined and is adorned with fake, vintage buttons. You know, the type that look weathered, but really aren’t? They have a gold tarnished look to them that screams fake, but nonetheless, it’s a warm coat. Like with most articles of quality clothing purchased, the buttons have been slowly falling off and although I have managed to capture a couple of them to resew back on, there are others that are forever lost in the outside world, never to return home. My coat mourns their loss and has held a solemn vigile, in the hope that they would return.
Alas, they haven’t and I have had to face the harsh reality that my coat will need to throw out the old and embrace the new. So, with that in mind, I headed off to a national haberdashery chain in the city, in the hopes of finding a good assortment of buttons.
The word ‘Haberdashery’ brings back another childhood memory of growing up in BFN (trans: Bum Fuck Nowhere), where the local haberdashery had everything, from knitting supplies, sewing needles, threads, ribbons to craft goods and so on. It was run by a noisy woman who aspired to be a Christian. She failed in that regard, although she probably disagrees. Rosemary was just one of those woman who took it upon herself to dish out gossipy goodness to those she believed shared that past time. To us kids, she was a sticky beak who you felt passed judgement on you because you were out ‘urban surfing’ or merely playing ‘car tag’ on a Friday night to ease the burden of boredom, instead of pursuing good christian past times.
I digress. Haberdashery. I spent a good 20 minutes in the buttons sections, becoming more and more disillusioned by the lack of choice and quantities of buttons. If I found a button tube (yes, they come in tubes), it did not hold enough buttons for what I needed to replace the buttons on the coat. And then I had the added dilemma of finding identical buttons, but at a smaller size for the coat cuffs. That became my worst nightmare and soon it became a matter of survival, rather than choice. I hastily picked two tubes and paid for my purchase. Forty-two freakin’ dollars later and I was back to work, proud to have found some matching buttons.
During my mental dilemma in the buttons aisle, a strong memory came back to me and I stopped my search for the allusive buttons and pondered the memory.
When I was a kid, my mother was an avid sewer. She had cotton, wool, fabric and needles for almost everything imaginable. She would be what those in the industry would term, a “Bowerbird” - she never threw anything away and as a result, our three bedroom house was really a two bedroom with a junk craft room piled high with half finished projects and old toys and furniture. Amongst the rubble were bazillions of random buttons, largely kept in old-fashioned cake tins. You know the type? Those that are called antique these days, prized possessions for anyone who loved to back cakes and cookies.
During my mother’s fit of cleaning (very random and rare), she would drag out every button she could find and ask me to put them all together into one container - something that would fit them all. However, I became so fascinated with these buttons, I would set about matching them to other buttons, creating families of the same buttons and counting them. It would take me forever and it occurred to me, whilst searching for buttons yesterday, that this was a bit of a game for me, as I have more than one memory of doing this.
I remember buttons with lady beetles, butterflies and other pictures on them. I remember big fat buttons and a lot of clear buttons of many sizes. I used to sit and look at these buttons for hours at a time, appreciating their patterns and coveting them. I really don’t know why though, because thinking back on it, these buttons weren’t special and the best they could hope for, was a home on a small child’s shirt.
I don’t know what happened to all those buttons, but as I was lost in the masses of buttons yesterday in the store, the memory came flooding back to me. It was comforting and made me realise that I could, in fact, have clear and complete memories of being a kid - a rarity for me. It was nice. Makes me wonder if my kids will have similar, strange fascinations and subsequent memories.
Back to the present. I went back to the store today and returned the buttons. The coat declined to wear the buttons - the buttons were too bright and stark for the coat. I did find new buttons to replace the now old new buttons. So, hopefully when I introduce them to the coat tonight, they will hit it off instantly. Stay tuned.
