The Tale of the Beautiful Towel
Last weekend, I went to visit a very good friend of mine while she was in Edmonton visiting her sister. It was a busy weekend, but tons of fun, with lots of good laughs, good wine and good times. I joined in on many renditions of the ol' favourite, Old MacDonald sung with great gusto by her almost-two-year-old, did a bit of knitting, and did some good shopping.
It was during one of these shopping trips that I visited my first Anthropologie in West Edmonton Mall.
That's where it happened.
I was browsing through the clothes, most of which would not fit me and I couldn't afford to buy anyway, when I discovered their housewares.
Goodness gracious. I have never seen so many beautiful doorknobs/cupboard knobs/coffee cups/tea towels in one place. Also pricey (this is Mrs. Cheap talking here), but amazingly, almost absurdly, beautiful.
I wandered into the sale section of the store. And there it was.
The most beautiful towel I've ever seen.
I know, it's a towel. What does anyone need beautiful towels for? You get out of the shower, you dry yourself, you look at your pasty tongue in the mirror, and then hang the towel up and forget about it.
I picked it up. I showed it to my friend. She expressed her appreciation of it, too. I looked at the price tag. My cheap-gene triggered. But I could not let go.
I walked around the store with it, hugged against my chest. I found a pretty cup that I really liked, a quarter of the price of the towel. I picked it up and carried it around as well.
And I bought them both.
So, here's the thing: I have a beautifully embroidered towel that I have no intention of ever using to mop water off my body. So... now what?
Yesterday, I took it out of its hallowed packaging and hung it on the banister. Doggie went over and inspected it. He sniffed it, then looked up at me.
"Whaddaya gonna do with dis, mom?"
"Um, I dunno."
"Sniff. Ok. Well, I'm off to chew some rawhide."
I've come up with a plan, though. I'm going to sew over the top edge and make it into a wall-hanging. It'll look great in the spare bedroom, where it's cool and comfy. Then, I can wander in there and admire it on hot summer afternoons. Doggie will join me, and he'll snooze next to me while I daydream.
And no. I don't feel guilty about it. At least, not anymore.
Oh, and the cup - looks great with a chai latte in it!
It was during one of these shopping trips that I visited my first Anthropologie in West Edmonton Mall.
That's where it happened.
I was browsing through the clothes, most of which would not fit me and I couldn't afford to buy anyway, when I discovered their housewares.
Goodness gracious. I have never seen so many beautiful doorknobs/cupboard knobs/coffee cups/tea towels in one place. Also pricey (this is Mrs. Cheap talking here), but amazingly, almost absurdly, beautiful.
I wandered into the sale section of the store. And there it was.
The most beautiful towel I've ever seen.
I know, it's a towel. What does anyone need beautiful towels for? You get out of the shower, you dry yourself, you look at your pasty tongue in the mirror, and then hang the towel up and forget about it.
I picked it up. I showed it to my friend. She expressed her appreciation of it, too. I looked at the price tag. My cheap-gene triggered. But I could not let go.
I walked around the store with it, hugged against my chest. I found a pretty cup that I really liked, a quarter of the price of the towel. I picked it up and carried it around as well.
And I bought them both.
So, here's the thing: I have a beautifully embroidered towel that I have no intention of ever using to mop water off my body. So... now what?
Yesterday, I took it out of its hallowed packaging and hung it on the banister. Doggie went over and inspected it. He sniffed it, then looked up at me.
"Whaddaya gonna do with dis, mom?"
"Um, I dunno."
"Sniff. Ok. Well, I'm off to chew some rawhide."
I've come up with a plan, though. I'm going to sew over the top edge and make it into a wall-hanging. It'll look great in the spare bedroom, where it's cool and comfy. Then, I can wander in there and admire it on hot summer afternoons. Doggie will join me, and he'll snooze next to me while I daydream.
And no. I don't feel guilty about it. At least, not anymore.
Oh, and the cup - looks great with a chai latte in it!
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