Aunt Agatha liked crocodile skin –
its crinkled thickness excited her whim.
Her favourite handbag started its life
as shoulders of a cold-blooded man-eater -
but what did Agatha care about him?
It matched her dancing shoes, hand-stitched in Rome;
shimmy dress with the oyster-pink pearl drops;
and her white-tipped silver-fox fur jacket.
Oh, please, Auntie, may I look inside it?
Auntie’s painted nails twist the metal clasp,
lining unfurls like a black-petalled rose,
reveals lipstick, Real Red for Cupid’s bow;
glass scent bottle – ‘Nights in Casablanca’;
gold powder compact with butterfly puff -
to dab away all signs of shine;
ivory-toothed comb, bleach-blonde strands adhered;
shiny mirror, compliant narcissus
for rouged cheekbones and kohl-black beauty spot;
bright sixpence for the drunk on the pavement
or shawled gypsy with rough wooden pegs.
She bequeathed me the bag and soft kid gloves,
knuckled into shape, nicotine-yellowed.
I clicked the clasp – 1929 must,
when it rested on the bar at the Ritz,
while she sipped martinis, smoked Sobranies,
as Louis trumpeted syncopation.
Empty – save for a postage-stamp photograph,
black and white, Auntie taking Russian tea,
waiting to lock eyes with her next client.
Shelley White has a Certificate in Creative Writing from Lancaster University. Some of her stories and poems have been published in the book, ‘Health Matters’ (2008) and in the magazines Aware, The Pygmy Giant and Scribblers on the Roof. Shelley tweets at www.twitter.com/haikumad
11 Responses to “AUNT AGATHA'S HANDBAG • by Shelley White”
Comments
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February 6th, 2010 at 3:17 am
Evocative. Very nice.
February 6th, 2010 at 6:48 am
On the first reading, I enjoyed this very much, but I need to keep returning, because there is SO much to take in. I just love the era, portrayed here so expertly.
February 6th, 2010 at 7:54 am
What are the “wooden pegs”? Those kind of “professionals” don’t usually own such expensive things. I think this is a fantasy of the “forbidden” and times not truly known.
February 6th, 2010 at 1:04 pm
Hi Roberta
The’wooden pegs’ are clothes pegs for pegging washing out on a washing-line. I don’t suppose many people use them today because they have driers in their washing machines. Maybe this is only a tradition in England but years ago, traders would come round the houses selling all sorts of goods, pegs being one of the main commodities.
Regarding Aunt Agatha’s ‘expensive things’ – she catered for the higher echelons of society and as a consequence was able to afford these luxuries. She also received presents from her admirers.
I don’t follow what you mean by ‘a fantasy of the “forbidden” and times not truly known.’
Thank you for your comments.
February 6th, 2010 at 2:44 pm
Shelley – We used clothes pins many years ago also, but our kind were really smooth.
February 7th, 2010 at 1:20 pm
I enjoyed this. Auntie was a flapper? How cool.
February 8th, 2010 at 7:03 am
I want to know what happened to Aunt Agatha. I know she must have died (i am sorry for being blunt), but as with all people now dead, i am curious about her, and the era in which she lived. There is a certain sad beauty in not knowing, and in the mystery of a character, nevertheless, my curiosity is piqued about Aunt Agatha. I love this piece!
February 8th, 2010 at 2:30 pm
I like Auntie – so much so that I’m sure the services she offers her clients are entirely legal … well, almost sure.
February 9th, 2010 at 6:56 pm
The early sly introduction of “cold blooded man-eater” worked well with the insistence on feminine trappings. It balanced the air of nostalgia nicely.
February 13th, 2010 at 5:00 pm
I think this poem works well on so many levels; the awe of the niece at the glamour of the handbag; the sense of nostalgia for times long past – as well as the more adult awareness of exactly what Auntie got up to… Nicely done!
February 14th, 2010 at 2:12 pm
Thumbs up.