Yesterday I had a moment. A coming age moment. A moment when I turned into my mother. And the reason? My first pair of leather gloves.
Yes, I have got to the ripe old age of 45 without ever owning a pair of leather gloves. My sweet mother has always owned (and lost!) many, many pairs over the years. My earliest memories of her include her gloves and most importantly, the lingering scent of her perfume on them. As it happened, last week I came across a bottle of La Perla, one of her favourite scents, in a charity shop. Yeah I know, a £30 bottle of scent for £4 in a charity shop - who'd have thought it, especially when I love it too! And the next day I found some affordable leather gloves; so I felt it was a sign for me to embrace my 46th year by carrying on the tradition of wearing black leather gloves, slightly scented by a layering of favourite perfumes.
But even though I now wear grown up gloves; that still doesn't stop me looking a fool. Take this afternoon. I rushed home from school to try and get back before the light faded so I could take a photo of them for this post. Umm, how do you take a photo of a pair of gloves that looks halfway decent and not at all weird and creepy. I took the above photo and then thought I would try and take a picture of me actually wearing them which would be more interesting. Mmm, what could I do with a one gloved hand shot. Oh I know, I can open the front door. Yeah.
Ooh, not good. (Get odd looks from passers by) Try again
Cringe. Even worse. I just look like a burglar or a murderer! Yep, definitely creepy and weird.
"How come Granny never looks creepy and weird in her gloves? I ask Lucy as she returns home from school.
" Probably because she doesn't photograph her black leathered hand opening doors," she replies as she walks past me.
She has a point.
