I have these two nice quilted throw pillows on my bed; they used to be all smooth, marred only by a dot of black ink from when I dropped a pen on one. Then I washed the covers. They came out spanking white, but wrinkly.
Throw pillows with freshly-washed quilted covers
The pillows now remind me of what I’d encounter at a really clean boarding house, like the one I stayed at when I was in my twenties and visited Saratoga Springs, where I went to bet $10 and hang out with my buddy, a journalist, who wrote about horse racing with such success that his name became a verb.
I like the boarding house image of clean, unpretentious and used. Now that my quilted pillows are freshly-washed and well-worn looking, I favor them even more than when they were new and smooth.
I have a record of attraction to worn things. Before Kindle, back when I read paperback books, they appealed to me far more after I roughed them up with: dog-ears, notes in the margins and swollen pages from the times I read them in my hot tub.
Inanimate objects that show indications of wear represent history and take on lifelike dimensions. Regarding my books, most volumes reside on my shelves with spines unbroken. Because I am a slow reader, I have trouble getting into a story and often abandon a novel early on. Thus, those ragged books I’ve completed stand like trophies in my den.
Last year I wrote about my disdain for new clothes, so stiff and unfamiliar. And how relieved I feel when a new car gets its first ding, because I no longer need to worry about it getting its first ding.
People, too, acquire patina, don’t they? I apply my appreciation of patina to my face, especially to the crinkles around my eyes that signal how much I like to laugh. As for my jowls and everything else, well, I’m working on patina appreciation.
And take the case of those with whom you have or seek romantic relationships. My first boyfriend after my divorce was a journalist with crooked teeth, who could make good omelettes. After he and I parted, I was always on the lookout for someone new with crooked teeth (as well as a gift for scrambling eggs).
For as long as I can remember I’ve been attracted to what others might call imperfections, like chipped teeth and scars (case in point Howard Goldman, kindergarten, Samuel Gompers Elementary School, 1950).
And the relationships themselves acquire a worn aspect. When I first met my second ex, Steve, he didn’t like to go out to restaurants as much as I did. He preferred to stay home and read the paper. I barely read the paper.
Over the years with Steve, the paper became like a tantalizing confection, with which I now reward myself after a hard day of work. And I disdain restaurants. Funny thing is, though Steve still reads the newspaper, he seems to go out all the time.
What, if any, of my patina patter rings a bell with you?
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I do have a flannel shirt from 8th grade…I still wear it…it is my lucky flannel…for reference I graduated in 81.
The first three things that come to mind when I think of things that I prefer worn rather than new are sneakers, jeans and sweatshirts. I guess because by nature all three of those things signal “comfort” it really makes sense to want them all soft and comfortable and broken in. I don’t really want to wear someone else’s old sneakers, but I wouldn’t mind used jeans or sweatshirt. Come to think of it, I have a sweatshirt that is at least 25 years old that I only wear on “special” occasions because it is so worn and thin that I am afraid that it will literally fall apart one day soon. I will cry on that day.
Call me crazy, but I love new things; a pair of brand new shiny black pumps (to go with the other 27 pairs of them in my closet), those new gloves sitting on my bureau just waiting for a day cold enough to wear them and the best of all, brand new panties.
As far as the pillows, I know the wrinkly-ness that you’re talking about Susan, but, unlike you, that drives me nuts (oh, what a surprise, right?).
Ok, now I have to come up with other old, worn things that I like, just so I don’t feel like such a superficial person.
Wait, I have one, my husband.
I have a collection of Snuffleupagus stuffed animals that I sleep with nightly. The matted down smashed up versions make me just as happy as the new fluffy and curly ones . So both old and new for me!
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My best friend lives in another state….. and she received the nickname “snuffy” because my other friends were not able to see her, just like Snuffy on Sesame Street. I loved her when she was my new fluffy and curly friend and I will love her when she is matted down and smushy (she is not either of those things yet)
I totally agree. My husband squirms when I buy used shoes on eBay, but I like that someone else has broken them in for me. Scuffs? They just add to the charm. And he shouldn’t make it an issue. He was married before to someone else so isn’t that different than my shoes.