Ladies Handkerchiefs

Ladies Handkerchiefs

When my grandmother died, my aunt with whom she had been living returned to me the present I gave her for her last birthday—her 91st. It was a white muslin handkerchief with a white lace border and white flowers embroidered in the corners. I still have that handkerchief because it reminds me of Grandmother Hunter, and also because you just don’t see handkerchiefs like that anymore.

When I was small, all ladies carried a fancy handkerchief in their purses, or maybe in their pockets—to be pulled out for emergencies like tears, theirs or anybody else’s, or a snotty nose, especially of a child, or a small spill, especially one that wouldn’t stain. And all little girls carried a handkerchief in their pint-sized purses, along with a dime, or maybe a nickel. All during my elementary school years, I carried a handkerchief in my pocket with my Fudgecicle nickel knotted into a corner. Sometimes I even used the handkerchief for its original intention, blowing my nose when I had a cold. Kids today would die of excess snot before they’d blow their nose into a cloth hanky instead of a paper “Kleenex.” And if they did use the cloth hanky, they’d have to throw it away afterwards.

I regret the disappearance of ladies’ cloth hankies, though, because it was a fail-safe gift for grandmothers, aunts, mothers, and teachers. Personal but not intimate. Inexpensive, but not cheap. Depending on the decoration, everything from elegant to utilitarian. As with ladies hats and gloves, hankies are so yesterday, but unlike ladies hats and gloves, I mourn the passing of ladies handkerchiefs.