Last night we went to a function, which required the donning of real clothes and the carrying of proper accessories. Since I spent a past life as a theater critic, I'm well equipped in the semi-formal outfit department, especially the kind that can be tossed on in a rush to catch an early curtain. (Word to the wise: If you don't own black silk pants, get a pair. Wear them to weddings, parties, openings nights. Great with sweaters. Can't go wrong.)

I couldn't very well carry my filthy messenger bag to dinner, so I unearthed the purse pictured below. In 2006 when our elderly neighbor died, his caregivers gave me his mother's vintage purses and button collection. Mrs. S lived 'til her 90's and was a seamstress at the Brown Palace; so the house was filled with wonderful textiles. She passed before we moved into the neighborhood, but I imagine her as resourceful, hardworking and possessed of a strong sense of esthetics. We know she was a passionate gardener from the flowers that continued to sprout among Oscar's weeds. 

So I carried this delightful, crocheted purse last night, wondering if she made it or whether it was a gift or a much-desired object. I love it and was honored to carry this memory of her with me.