I feel the same way about women’s gloves.
There used to be a glove shop on Melrose Blvd. in West Hollywood, before it became the erroneous quintessential tourist destination for seekers of hipster experience.
The walls were lined with ancient cardboard boxes stacked precariously and it felt exactly like walking into a time machine just far back enough into the past when manners and formality were important.
That glove shop had been there for at least 40 years and they made custom gloves. The proprietress measured my hands and did not laugh at my pinkies, that for some unknown genetic mutation, are the size of a 5-year-old’s.
I have no memory of what the gloves looked like or what happened to them, but every detail of the glove shops interior is caught like a photograph in my minds eye. Thank you for reminding me.