small packages

When you’re six feet tall with a boyish figure, finding clothing long enough that gives the illusion of curves is a rare occurrence. I’ve learned the hard way to not let them get away when they cross my path. And that is how I found myself forking over full price at Anthropologie for a wool knit jacket with fabulous detailing even though I live in Florida where it is currently 95 degrees with 95 % humidity and will likely continue as such for a couple of months. I know if I wait for future markdowns or cooler weather my size will have long since been scooped up by someone else and I will sorely regret it. So, there you go.

Now I was already pretty happy with my purchase, but when I got home and started removing tags I fell in love. Tucked away under the armpit, where it had escaped my previous notice, was a tiny and exquisitely executed “dressmaker kit” attached to the sweater with a satin ribbon. Sliding open the wee box revealed one shiny button and neatly wrapped yarn atop a lining of miniature sheet music. That’s when I knew this was meant to be.

I should explain. I’ve held a fascination for containers for as long as I can remember – boxes, baskets, tins, purses, portfolios, you name it – if it’s beautiful and can be used for containing and organizing all the stuff in my life, it is to be appreciated and admired. I’m not positive how I arrived at this compulsion, but I suspect I inherited it in part from my father whose worktable is precisely organized with labeled bins and from my mother whose eye for color and design influences me to this day.

So, while I’m sure the sweater will take me through a few winters in style, ultimately, this little throw-away box will find a special place in my house for the long term as all good and useful things do.