The quiet sadness of doilies

This weekend I enjoyed a trip to Antique World. While my friend perused the vintage paperback booth seeking treasures in pulp and science fiction I planted myself in the booth containing doilies and buttons...among other things including, but not limited to vintage shoes and clothing, and Spice Girl dolls.  I spent enough time poring over the doilies that one of the women working that day stopped to ask if I needed help.  I told her thank you, no.  I was just admiring the beauty of the doilies, and imagining the hard work that went into making them.  I went on to tell her that I made these kinds of things myself and was looking for pattern ideas.  Perhaps I offered too much information, and she might have preferred a simple, "no thanks," but   I found myself oddly touched (in that way that indicates slight insanity) by these doilies.

Because I have logged countless hours, hook in hand, lovingly creating project after project, I have a profound appreciation for the art of the craft.  I have been told repeatedly- you should sell your work.  When I hear this my thoughts go immediately to the racks of afghans at thrift stores, and to the doily basket at Antique World.

I have always been overly sentimental.  For years I did not throw away shoes, even after they had broken down beyond wear-ability.  They had served me well, and deserved better than a flippant toss into the waste bin.  While I have worked to be more practical (with the expressed interest of not appearing on the television program "Hoarders") it still breaks my heart to think of the time, and love that goes into a handcrafted item like a blanket or doily, only to find it in what is essentially the waste bin of commerce- the second hand shops.  I want to buy all of these forgotten creations, give them homes where they will be appreciated.  Perhaps a Doily Rescue Mission is not anyone's top priority, but at the very least, let us recognize and respect the work that went into making them.