Vigo County Historical Society

Gloves may seem to be just a statement of fashion but if they could, they would tell a story.

* * *

Short crocheted gloves worn to a garden party by a little old widow smelled of lavender. Her petticoats rustled as the moved away from the punch table. A faraway look filled her eyes--and then she saw him, still smartly dressed, a boutonniere in the pocket of his gray silk suit.

He seemed to turn just as she did and for a brief moment their eyes met. She lingered for a moment, tugged slightly at her crocheted gloves and walked away. Here lay the gloves--can’t you smell the lavender?

*

A little girl of 13, almost a woman, pulled on the little white cotton gloves. She looked in the mirror and she knew the gloves made her a "real" lady. She walked daintily out the door. Her father drove her to the party. When she slowly alit from the car, she could hear sounds of laughter. She immediately took off her little white flats, pealed off the gloves and ran awkwardly down the hill. As she ran she called, "Wait for me, I want to play ball, too!" Here lay those gloves.

* * *

The Military Ball was just days away. All of Rose-Poly was abuzz with talk of the ball. Uniforms were pressed and waiting. A beautiful burgundy dress hung from a satin hanger. From the shoulder of the dress cascaded a luscious chiffon scarf. Draped over the hanger were a pair of long white gloves. There were just like the gloves made popular by the First Lady of the United States.

The month was November, the year 1963. These gloves were never worn.

The fashion magazines of today inform us that gloves are back in vogue.

Old gloves have stories to tell. Come to the museum, search for the gloves. Listen and you may hear their stories--and if you really try you may detect just a hint of lavender.