French la Vie

The lady pauses at the counter to loosen her gloves, easing them off one finger at a time, and puts them in her small beaded bag. She whispers with her eyes to her child who stands close, eyes level with the glass-topped boxes arranged in careful rows, each one no bigger than a matchbox, each holding something needed, «Don’t touch. »

She asks the clerk to see the boîtes d’échantillons (sample boxes). The cardboard sides are trimmed in various colors, lids of thin glass that reveal their contents without spilling a single bead. She lifts one and tips it slightly. Black beads slide together, catching the light just enough to show their depth. Another holds pale tubes, another, small curved metal pieces meant to be stitched flat, to follow the line of a collar as it turns at the neck.

Collars are changed often. Everyone knows this. One dress can become several with various pretty collars the right edge, the right weight, the right finish, lace, beaded, silver trims… She looks carefully at each box— in hopes to find something that will sit cleanly against linen, something that can be unpicked and used again. Something that adds a spark to last season’s dress.

Her child watches as she considers each box, how long she holds it, how carefully she sets it down. Nothing is rushed. These boxes exist for choice, for comparison, for imagining the final line before a single stitch is made.

She selects two. The merchant notes the number on the lid. The boxes slide back into their place, ready for the next hands, the next collar, the next decision waiting just beneath the glass.

Note: Échantillon boîtes – from the turn of the century found at the brocante.