So with masks and careful social distancing this weekend, we braved the Savers. I had the eye of the thrift gods on me for sure, because even without being able to use dressing rooms everything I brought home with me fit. Even the dress I wasnât sure was my style. But this isnât about the dresses, really.
So I was looking through the throw blankets, with the half assed idea that maybe I could find some to use primarily on my hammock, when I came across what seemed like an old school woven white coverlet like the one I have on my bed.
âHuh,â I said to myself as I reached for it, âself, that weave almost looks like crochet.â Then I pulled forth a fold, took a closer look, and my eyes did a O.O
Friends, it was indeed crochet. Very fine crochet, done with fine yarn and wee stitches.
The rose design was striking, and I wanted to see - just how big IS this blanket, anyway? It might be nice to have a second one to swap out with the one on my bed. So I pull it off the hanger, find an edge, shake it out, and loose threads fly in all directions.
For a horrible moment I think that it has a huge rip.
Then all the folds unfold and I realize that what I am holding is not, in fact, a rectangular item. It is triangular. It is a shawl. And as I look closely between the roses-centered diamond motifs that make up its construction,
...I realize I can see the thread they used to stitch the diamonds and triangles together. The entire shawl is handmade, construction and compilation, and with stitches so small it easily represented hundreds of hours of work. And what I had though were loose threads indicating an unraveling year were actually long tassels along the bottom edge.
Not quite holding my breath, I started looking it over. Surely there had to be something wrong with it! There was no structural damage, no stretching or tearing. Only, here and there, some small brown spots, as if someone had had the shawl wrapped around themself and spilled a wee bit of coffee or cocoa.
Even more urgently I searched for the price tag, and found none. When I got to the register I half expected them to refuse to sell it with no tag. The cashier brought it to the line manager, and I was fully prepared to pay ten, twelve, twenty four dollars for it.
A DOLLAR AND NINETY NINE CENTS
When I got home I searched out and sprayed every spot with Oxyclean and let it soak a half hour. I scrubbed them out in cold water in the sink. I ran it through the washer with some other whites, and then hung it on the front of my craft cabinet to dry. It is so big that, wearing it as standard over my shoulders, the tip of the tassel on the point brushes my ankles. The spots are gone.
I feel like I stole something.