One of the joys of being a woman of a certain age is being able to remember the buttery aroma of popcorn and the sound of heels clacking on the wooden floor of a Woolworth’s Five and Dime.
Woolworth’s was an emporium of delightful possibilities. Hula hoops and small figurines of puppies and horses, pop guns and colorful hankies, boldly striped terrycloth cozies to slip over bottles of coca cola and 7-up, and blue bottles of Evening in Paris perfume; these were just a few of the treasures that were within the reach of my allowance bundled with birthday money.
As well as one of my favorite doodads–little paper umbrellas in bright colors of red and pink and yellow. I prized them for both their teeniness and their working parts, imagining the small fairy who might find such an equally small umbrella useful.
Seeing the intricate parasols floating like dandelions in the opening between the two dining rooms makes me smile, causing me to remember a magical time in my childhood, when opening and shutting a paper parasol could bring such pleasure.