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I love buttons. I love their weight, their oddball colours and shapes - the giant red ones, the tinytiny delicate beasties, the uneven wooden grainy ones. I love twisting them on my jumpers and coats, and feeling them spring back. I love that they look like little faces.
When I was small, we used to have a multiplication quiz in class. I used to hold on to the button at the end of my school cardigan, the very last one, and catch it with my thumb, inverting it into the corner of the fabric. Standing, waiting for my question - nine times seven! eight times six! - my arm would stiffen downwards, pushing against the button, and straining the front of the cardigan into a tense, rigid line. I hated and adored it.
Later, writing my homework at night, I would secretly nibble on the top button, the uppermost soldier in the line. Work, to me, still tastes like the tang of wool and the click of plastic on my teeth. Buttons are reassuring.
So it's no real surprise that I fell in love with luxedeluxe's silver button necklace. It's light and delicate to touch, and yet ever so tough, and nestles just perfectly in the hollow of your neck, that part that the English Patient called the Almásy Bosphorus, the lovely vascular sizood. It wants to be touched, traced with the end of your finger, even - what the hell - nibbled. It's profoundly sensuous, in some undefinable way. It's perfect.
(link)
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You.
Are.
So.
Adorable.