Glad the Buttoneer

We were glad to take a break this arvo and visit the Hyde Park Festival. It was way more elaborate than I pictured with hundreds of small marquees housing vendors of all descriptions. Nestled in-between a stall selling wheat heat packs and festival pinwheels was an old lady selling her superfluous button collection. I took a quick peek at the small display on an upturned cardboard box and knew there was an opportunity for consumer adventure.

In my head I’ve named the vendor Gladys. She was ancient but sharp and not the slightest bit perturbed by the flurry of fairground entertainment shrouding her venture. She squatted on her stool in the middle of a space allocation 20 times too large for her needs.

On display was a collection of old buttons that Glad had sewn to a tatty piece of cardboard or to the back of a used envelope. Each selection of buttons was labelled with an approximate date, history and price. To make each item more marketable, the cardboard backing was decorated with a biro-ruled border. She wore her button-loving heart on her retro sleeve when she confided in me that this wasn’t her whole collection but that she needed to downsize. You can have too many buttons.

As I was perusing her collection it was like she was trying to interview me for suitability as a purchaser. “What type of craft do you do?” I was asked. I gave her a satisfactory answer but she pointed out that “If you are serious about buttons you’ll be interested in these” as she rattled a saucer of mismatching glass specimens. I was giggling on the inside.

It was my time to peg her on the Button Collector scale, “Did you used to work in the Button Trade - it seems you know a lot about buttons?” Apparently not, but she’d learnt a lot along the way.

I couldn’t leave without purchasing now. I’d had a lesson in button design and terminology as well as a head-to-head on my validity as a purchaser.

After I’d chosen a selection of fasteners she took them from me to record the sales in her inventory. Curiously, mine were the first on the list and she’d probably been there for the 2 days of the festival. At the last minute I added 2 crystal buttons that were in a recycled plastic display box and she was very quick to clarify that the box wasn’t included in the sale. After the transaction was complete Gladys was clear that the crystal buttons were actually glass but in the industry they call them ‘crystal’.

I assured her I didn’t need a bag but she ignored me and reached into her supplies to give me a wrinkled Red Rooster plastic variety. “I’m determined to give some bags away” she mumbled as she returned my wares.

As we walked away I commented to Michael that the age of this form of entrepreneurism will be extinct by the time Angus is a man. We’ve got to support it while we still have it.