I like to think I’m a fairly modern, self-respecting woman who isn’t entirely bound by traditional roles. That being said, I happen to really like aprons…
Although the aprons are practical in keeping my clothes clean while I am cooking, what I really like about them is that there is a story behind each one.
Take this matronly, floral one for example. I bought it a few years back at a garage sale where it was hidden among vintage jewelry, 1950s storybooks and old silverware. When I went to pay for it, I could tell the older woman who was selling it was happy to see it going to a young girl who would get use out of it.
At the same sale, I bought this more delicate, summery apron.
A while later, I found a cute, embroidered blue apron at my neighbors’ garage sale.
I love the detail at the bottom and the pocket.
Much more modern, if you ask me.
In terms of style, it is definitely my favorite. But, there is one apron that is certainly more memorable than the rest…
It all started off one day before my sophomore year of college when my friend Sam and I went to a small town in Nebraska to explore around.
As is the case with small towns, we quickly ran out of things to do and decided to stop by a local antique/secondhand store. Personally, I was drawn in by the aprons in the window…
I snatched up the apron before continuing to browse around the store. This was all shortly before I moved into my first apartment, so I was looking for a few pieces of furniture. In the basement of the store, I found a little writing desk that had a vinyl checkered patterned top underneath a thick layer of glass — very vintage cute!
Better yet, it was only something like $5. Sold!
So, I drove my car around back, paid for the desk and got one of the worker’s help in loading it into the backseat of my car. No sooner did we flip it over, however, did the unmounted glass top slip off and crash down — onto my foot.
I remember looking down and seeing the shattered glass.
“Oh no,” I thought, upset that my desk was ruined. Only then did I notice that my foot was gashed open. Immediately I sat down as a crowd formed around me.
“Should she go to the emergency room?” some one asked.
“No, I don’t think they’ll accept her,” another replied.
“Well, should she…” the conversation went on.
After a few minutes, I had no choice but to break in.
“Uhm, I’m getting kind of dizzy.”
Finally, it was decided that I should go to the emergency room. So, my friend helped me get situated in the car and then drove us over.
Five stitches later, I was good to go.
Then, Sam told me that the people at the antique shop offered me my money back and I could still keep the desk.
I decided against keeping the cursed desk — but, I was sure as heck going to keep the apron!
So, even though the apron isn’t the best made…
It certainly left of place in my memory — and my foot.
Questions: Have you ever gotten stitches? Any good stories behind those stitches?