Some days I’m not sure I was born in the right decade.
I mean, I do love the now.
I love the new Hallmark movie season that just started.
I love rooms that vacuum themselves.
I love talking to people through my doorbell when I’m shopping at Walmart.
I love the conveniences of all the things that this century showed up with.
If I could click my ruby slippers together and live in another time and place, I’d love to be whisked away to a time when ladies listened for the dinner gong to dress and wore amazing gowns and tiaras and went to balls and drove in horse-drawn carriages and had high tea at 5:00 pm and waited on suitors to show up with calling cards.
And lived in places where castles and manor houses were as common as Walmarts are here.
And that’s why I loved this tiny bit of history from a bygone era.
Wait until you see what we found.
Half a dozen pairs of gloves.
These amazing, incredible, before Downton Abbey gloves.
An entire box of gloves tucked away by my husband’s grandmother in the bottom of a drawer in a box scented with all of the nostalgia and pomp and circumstance of a time gone by.
They were May Margaret’s gloves.
My husband’s grandmother’s aunt who was born in 1884.
An entire century before vacuums that drive themselves and food that shows up at your door and doorbells that let you talk to people from hundreds of miles away.
Her father was from Dundee Scotland and the family arrived in America before she was born.
She was 14 when she wore these.
Probably to church or a party or a family get-together.
She drank tea and listened to glamourous older girls talk about suitors and balls and petticoats.
For all that amazing, wonderful, incredible ballgown life to unfold.
She’d button them at the back.
Or maybe have her sister or her mother help her.
These were easy to learn on.
They only had one button and it snapped.
One day May Margaret turned 18.
And put on a dress with billowy ruffles and put her hair in an upswept bun with tiny tendrils and clipped on her pearls and tucked her feet into dancing shoes and pulled on these gloves.
And went to the ball.
I wish you could have heard my heart beating when I opened the box.
All of that life.
All of that glamour.
All of the stories and the parties and the dancing and the suitors and gossip and the beating fans and the laughter and the swirling music of the ballroom that these gloves had seen poured out when I lifted the lid.
I wished with every little part of me that I could have been there at that long ago day to watch 1899 turn into 1900.
I wish I could have walked into that ballroom.
I wish I could have giggled.
I wish I could have laughed with May Margaret and swirled and danced on that floor with a suitor.
And for a moment.
Holding those gloves….
…it felt like I did.
PS The gloves came with a glove stretcher.
I’m not sure how it worked?
PS These gloves reminded me of my own grandmother.
And her love story.
You can read all about the love letters from box 54 here.