I have explained previously that High WASP families are a little odd about their houses. For all our focus on aesthetics, and our well-demonstrated love of high-quality clothing, we prefer a little shab at home. Fabrics fray, paint cracks, entire living rooms stay put for decades. We don’t buy for change.
But we do love our little thingies – what another culture might call tschotckes. Long name, thingamabobs. My grandmother’s snuff bottles. My mother ‘s Murano glass candies. My father’s collection of various hearts, and pigs. Why pigs I cannot say.
We collect, perhaps, because collections allow the New to augment without changing altogether.
In any case, this Christmas my mother gave me three glass butterflies. I’d spotted them in a catalog, some visit or other. My mother’s prone to spontaneous generosity.
I just love glass in a house. The light, the refraction, the reflections. Hostess posted about her collection of old floats. Butterflies and floats both travel a long way, gathering impact in numbers.
(One last High WASP aside. Although we appreciate that these come from Baccarat – the history, the quality, the brand – we’re not going to keep the little red stickers. We know both beauty and disdain, like any other culture.)
If I follow our family tradition, these butterflies will move around a bit. I’ll acquire a few more over the years. Tomorrow I may change my mind. My home, not so much.
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