Copyright: Public Domain
Editor: So this is “Parasol,” created sometime between 1883 and 1887. It’s listed as a textile or fiber art piece, housed at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It strikes me as incredibly delicate…almost too pretty to use. What do you make of it? Curator: Well, isn't it a confection? Looking at it, I feel transported, I almost see myself promenading along a sun-drenched Parisian boulevard! Notice how the textile, likely lace, cascades and swirls. It’s far more than just sun protection. In an era obsessed with etiquette and appearance, what statement do you think such an accessory makes? Editor: A statement of status? Wealth? It seems… impractical. Beautiful, yes, but imagine trying to use it on a windy day! Curator: Precisely! Its impracticality is its virtue. It whispers of leisure, of being shielded, literally, from the harsher realities. The late 19th century adored adornment. This parasol is pure romanticism, distilled into an object. It begs the question, doesn't it, of where art and life intertwine or perhaps, gently mock one another? What's your impression of the handle itself? Editor: The handle? I like the simple swirling pattern; it doesn't compete with the lace. It’s like a humble counterpoint to all the frills. I hadn’t really considered how much it all communicated about the era! Curator: It's a tiny window, isn't it? Next time you're feeling extravagant, consider its relative impact to carrying this little cloud above your head. Editor: I definitely will. I’ll never look at a parasol the same way again. Curator: Nor I, perhaps! Every encounter rewrites the story, doesn't it?
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