Whatever might this be?
When we emptied my MIL's condo after she died, I inherited two sewing machines, a very large tiered sewing box on four legs, and several boxes of notions. This is one, that has been occupying a spot on my laundry/craft room table since about 2003, caught my attention last night. The usable space on the table had been shrinking until it was virtually nonexistant, and I decided to eliminate some clutter. Little did I realize the riches lurking in the bottom of this box.
After removing the upper clutter from the box, the wonders were revealed.
I should perhaps give you some background here.
When I was a kid, one of favorite non-toys to play with was my mother's button box, an old Whitman sampler candy box filled with spare and leftover buttons. I would sort them by color, by shape, by the number of holes, by whether they had a shank or not, etc., etc., etc. It was a pastime perfectly suited for anyone with anal tendencies. Like me. My husband and I still joke about it; anything that requires sorting or organizing is referred to affectionately as a button box.
The years passed, who knows what happened to Mom's box, and eventually I acquired my own:
Note the nifty compartments, the organization by color and size. Still anal after all these years, yup.
So you can imagine my delight at discovering the treasure I had inherited all unknowing from my MIL. After digging my fingers through the buttons, savoring their cool touch and the soft clinking sounds they made, I began to sort.
There were big buttons,
small buttons,
bottons of wood and buttons covered with leather,
metal buttons that insisted on lining themselves up in military ranks,
even real mother-of-pearl buttons.
There were red ones (cat inserted for, er, scale),
a surprising number of green ones,
relatively few blue ones,
and quite a few in a funny brownish purple.
There were some oddities.
Those lime green ones make me think of a graphic of a scowl -- all those black lines converging on the center.
I can only wonder why she saved these. Did she think she would someday have another dress of this fabric that would need buttons?
I found adjuster bits from 1950s era bras, snaps of all sizes and colors, button blanks waiting to be covered in fabric to match a hand-sewn dress, a few other assorted fabric-covered buttons not interesting enough to photograph, some sparkly ones, and these:
Once again, I ask, Why? What for? Especially the brown one that is split -- what on earth would you use that for, huh? (Probably one of you will tell me. TIA.)
For lovers of natural fibers, I present Exhibit A found lurking in the box.
I will leave you with my favorite photo, of an assortment of used-to-be-white buttons, any of which would have looked right at home on summer housedress in 1947.
