Accessory Before the Act

Her auburn hair was in ringlets, the eyes bright, the fingers adorable. As she puddled the butter in a little silver dish, each parent had eyes only for their daughter, and if she wanted more butter to puddle they would gladly have called the waitress back.

She was their most admired accessory—a living doll—and they’d delayed ten years to have her. As her mother and father walked out of the café dangling the child between them the rest of the domestic drama could be predicted—from adoration, to disenchantment, to the rebellion her parents would neither foresee nor understand.

Don’t they know that even fashion accessories bite the hands they hang from?

November 2004