Scissors Fetish

I can’t remember when exactly it began, but I can remember standing up on my tip toes trying to get into the drawers in my grandma’s china hutch because I knew that there were scissors in there somewhere. Big, heavy scissors with painted black handles. At home I wasn’t allowed scissors, so wherever I went I looked in kitchen drawers, bathroom drawers, and my stealthy li’l self even snuck into bedroom drawers in search of them. I really couldn’t understand why anyone would hide scissors from themselves. They never seemed to know where they kept their own scissors . . . Of course looking back on those early years I completely understand why. I destroyed my aunt’s purple taffeta prom dress trying to make something nice for Barbie to wear on her date. I sliced up a pristine stack of quilting fabric because it made a really excellent blanket for Barbie’s new bedroom set, cut up baby clothes, shark skin pants, silk ties, the list goes on. All in the name of creation. Damn yeah.

Here, dear friends, is an ode to my love of scissors.

All my friends. I’ve got some fancy stuff in there, and some not fancy stuff, and some cheap stuff, but they all serve their purpose and I feel completely lost without any one of them. I just realized how attached I am when yesterday I was stuck at work without any craft supplies, and the thing that bothered me most wasn’t the fabric that I’d left at home, but my crane scissors. My trusty li’l crane scissors. I guess rotary cutters aren’t exactly scissors, but they’re the newest addition to my growing family of cutters, and I love them like baby kitties. The thread cutters also aren’t scissors, but you get the idea. I love things that cut things. Sigh. Love. So much love for all my scissors and cutty-things. Where would I be without Gingher or Martha or Fiskars? Really, where would I be? What would my life be like without my pilgrim scissors or my floral scissors or my non-stick scissors? I’m convinced that I could never have developed creatively if I didn’t have this . . . relationship with my cutting tools. For reals. Mwah cutties!

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