Vibrant But Not a Beauty

She was vibrant, but not a beauty. At first I didn’t notice anything at all about this woman working at the fabric store.

I handed her the four bolts of fabric and requested a quarter yard of each one. As she unrolled the first bolt and measured my meager request, I told her that I was making the first quilt for myself. Not wanting to appear a novice, I added that I had made other quilts, but this was the first one just for me. “I already have lots of fabric, but I liked these.” She glanced at me and we both laughed. Quilters always have lots of fabric, but always want more. “My quilt will be a variety of browns and dark reds.” Then I added, “I like those colors.” She nodded as she snipped a perfect cut. Feeling a little foolish about filling the silence with chatter as she worked, I decided to just shut up.

I watched her as she rolled and pinned the remaining fabric back onto the first bolt. Then, without looking up from her work, she said, “The darker colors help me to find my center, to feel grounded.”

There was a moment when I couldn’t respond; I could only look at this woman. I was trying to process this incongruency, a haggard-looking woman and a Zen-like observation. She was probably ten years younger than I am, but she looked much older. She was far too thin, no make-up, and her thin wisps of mousy brown hair hung down in her face as she leaned over the fabric. Her faded jeans hung straight, no hips, no thighs. As I stood in a moment of suspended reality, her words echoed in my mind. “The darker colors help me to find my center, to feel grounded.”

Suddenly we were both animated, sharing with each about the projects we had done and the ones we intend to do. She continued to cut, fold and pin as she talked about a wall hanging that she had seen and wanted to make one similar to it. It was a quilted wall hanging, a grand piano with a long-stemmed red rose lain across it. She talked about its elegance and that she wanted to make hers in black and red silk.

As she talked about the sheen of the silk, the contrast of black and red on a white background, the way black and red combinations pull together all the other colors in a room, I looked again at her hands. Her hands were dry and rough with several scabs and scars, probably cut and poked by scissors and needles. As if she knew my thoughts, she told me about the hand quilting she kept nearby when she was at home. “You have to be very efficient and disciplined to quilt by hand,” she said. “Otherwise, a project would never be finished.”

When she handed me the four carefully folded pieces of fabric, I thanked her for the conversation. Thanking her felt so inadequate. I felt lighter. I felt centered. I had been in the presence of a wise woman, a vibrant woman, though not a beauty.

Beauty or Brains?

This ad for Palmolive Soap says, "Most men ask, 'Is she pretty?', not 'Is she clever?'" The ad goes on to say, "Brains or beauty? But why choose? Combine beauty with cleverness, charm with wisdom. Develop your beauty to bring out the sweetness of your personality. That's what thousands of girls have done - and found new happiness as a result."

Where, or where, to begin with this one? I'll begin with the ending, the last couple lines of the ad. "Note carefully the name of the wrapper. Palmolive Soap is never sold unwrapped."

It seems wrapped a little too tightly, in my opinion. There is no room in this ad for the possibility that a "girl" might choose brains over beauty. There is no room for the possibility that the "girl" chooses not to be sweet because she is less vulnerable as she is. Heaven forbid that she be entirely disinterested in men in the first place.

This musing isn't intended to be bitter though it might come across that way. It is, in fact, entertaining to read vintage advertisements because they say so much about where we have come from and how far we have yet to go. It leads me to wonder what nit-picking and finger-wagging will come from readers 100 years from now when they look at our products and what the ads have to say about who we have been. (Will there even be a readership or will it be an audio-visualship or a tactileship or a smellyship?)

Some things, perhaps, shouldn't have changed in the past few years. An advertisement in a 1922 copy of the Breeder's Gazette (a newspaper for farmers in case you're wondering) says of the "new" Dodge Brothers Business Sedan, "... one that offers weather protection and comfort the year round; a car dignified in appearance and economical to run." Something other than horseback that is economical to run? That's what I call a "concept car".

Another thing that has to be said for the vintage advertisements is the quality of the artwork. There is real beauty produced by hand and pen and ink rather than keystrokes on a computer or a digital camera. Even the photographs of over eighty years ago are quite amazing considering what the photographers had to work with at the time.

It's just a shame that some of the brains and beauties of days-gone-by weren't as valued in their time as they are today. Maybe this means our value will appreciate as well.