I love cutting paper and I love the sound of scissors cutting paper. But even more, I love the shape of a pair of scissors. There's something so elegantly beautiful about the shape of scissors. And, if I could, I would have a drawer full of them.
Here's what my dream drawer of scissors would look like:
Shears by Shozaburo scissor company from Best Made Company
Marguerite Scissors from The French Needle
Allex Non-Stick Scissors from The Shop at Cooper-Hewitt
Antique Stork Scissors from The Vintage Universe
9 Inch Fabric Scissors from Spartan Shop
Brass Scissors from Hay
1.8" Black Utility Ceramic Scissors from Kyocera
(Photo: Pack Rat Memories Blog)
I leave you with a poem by Pablo Neruda.
Ode to a Pair of Scissors
Prodigious
scissors
(looking like
birds, or
fish),
you are as polished as a knight's
shining armor
Two long and treacherous
knives
crossed and bound together
for all time,
two
tiny rivers
joined:
thus was born a creature for cutting,
a fish that swims among billowing linens,
a bird that flies
through
barbershops.
Scissors
that smell of
my seamstress
aunt's
hands
when their vacant
metal eye
spied on
our
cramped
childhood,
tattling
to the neighbors
about our thefts of plums and kisses.
There,
in the house,
nestled in their corner,
the scissors crossed
our lives,
and oh so
many lengths of
fabric
that they cut and kept on cutting:
for newlyweds and the dead,
for newborns and hospital wards.
They cut
and kept on cutting,
also the peasant's hair
as tough
as a plant that clings to rock,
and flags
soon stained and scorched
by blood and flame,
and vine
stalks in winter,
and the cord
of
voices
on the telephone.
A long-lost pair of scissors
cut your mother's
thread
from your navel
and handed you for all time
your separate existence.
Another pair, not necessarily
somber,
will one day cut
the suit you wear to your grave.
Scissors
have gone
everywhere,
they've explored
the world
snipping off piece of
happiness
and sadness
indifferently.
Everything has been material
for scissors to shape:
the tailor's
giant scissors,
as lovely as schooners,
and very small ones
for trimming nails
in the shape of the waning moon,
and the surgeon's
slender
submarine scissors
that cut complications
and the knot that should not have grown inside you.
Now, I'll cut this ode short
with the scissors
of good sense,
so that it
will
fit in your pocket
smoothed and folded
like
a pair
of scissors.
