This piece is overall improved by the price tag.
We are still wandering around the vast junk shelves of the SVDP’s near 620 and I35. You will never find a more wretched hive of scraps and millinery. The heart above was one more piece that sat, gathering more dust, for three or four months before finally disappearing. Maybe Sassy Little Cube Girl picked it up to give to a friend, just to weird them out a bit. Maybe the boll weevils took it away.
Okay, so, this isn’t really a horror, I do find it more than a little bit tragic. The little gold ribbon that’s trying to escape its incarceration; a tiny, gem-encrusted starfish; a single, lone, gem…all of them apparentlyÂ glued down to granny’s underthings. Glue turns an unfortunate yellow over time, which, combined with the “grandma’s drawers” effect, makes a sad little linen mess. Give this to the one you love, just to toy with them. Will they give it back? In what tone of voice will they thank you? Did they already have one?
I’m still a little rusty on the symbolism of the whole thing. The little dead flower looks an awful lot like an owl pellet, and the star thing seems whimsically beach-side. The single pink gem…that just throws the entire thing cattywampus. It’s the touch of class that a fake beauty mark adds to a tawdry cabaret dancer years past her prime, the single tear painted on a porcelain clown’s cheek. Don’t believe it. Just ask yourself whose bedspread liner this was cut from, and what events had it seen. It looks pretty worn out, even if you glue a string of pearls to it.
Love, straight from our dustbin to your dustbin, and only $1. Thank you, SVDP.
2 Responses to “I love you dead flowers much”
What a bleak, discarded keepsake this is. Did he wear that boutonniere to Prom? Did that big pink gem fall off the 80’s Molly Ringwald wannabe dress she wore? Is that a piece of the quilt they first made love on? The starfish pin the something old that was pinned to her wedding dress?
We’ll never know what this collection represented, but whatever it was obviously isn’t worth commemorating any longer. Depressing.
That’s the problem with taking personal recollections completely out of context. All you have is stories that are, in all probability, slightly better than the actual circumstances.