While digging through an old box hidden at the back of a cupboard, I stumbled upon some unusual items. Thin, bright, slightly shiny… At first glance, I assumed they were quirky cocktail stirrers or leftover strings of Christmas lights. The sort of odd bits you keep “just in case” but never actually use. Yet, as soon as I held them, something caught my attention: they were glass, fragile, almost poetic. Orange, yellow, green… each one had a tiny, discreet hook. But what on earth were they meant for?
A family memory resurfaced
Puzzled, I mentioned it to someone in my family: my grandfather’s brother. His reply surprised me, but more than anything… touched me. He let out a hearty laugh and explained, as though revealing a hidden jewel: “They’re miniature vases for suit pockets. For buttonholes.” Small vases? For jackets? I could hardly believe such a thing existed.
And suddenly, …
While digging through an old box hidden at the back of a cupboard, I stumbled upon some unusual items. Thin, bright, slightly shiny… At first glance, I assumed they were quirky cocktail stirrers or leftover strings of Christmas lights. The sort of odd bits you keep “just in case” but never actually use. Yet, as soon as I held them, something caught my attention: they were glass, fragile, almost poetic. Orange, yellow, green… each one had a tiny, discreet hook. But what on earth were they meant for?
A family memory resurfaced
Puzzled, I mentioned it to someone in my family: my grandfather’s brother. His reply surprised me, but more than anything… touched me. He let out a hearty laugh and explained, as though revealing a hidden jewel: “They’re miniature vases for suit pockets. For buttonholes.” Small vases? For jackets? I could hardly believe such a thing existed.
And suddenly, it became clear: these slim glass tubes fit neatly inside a bre:ast pocket, with a drop of water to keep a flower alive throughout the evening. Such a discreet flourish, yet a sign of remarkable sophistication!
When flowers spoke louder than words
Back then, these accessories were not simply adornments. They carried meanings, delicate signals. Men picked flowers the way one chooses expressions: a white carnation for a wedding, a crimson rose for a date, an exotic orchid for a night at the theater. Every choice held significance. A bloom in the buttonhole was like a coded message, a subtle confession, a mark of tenderness.
Naturally, this tiny vase completed the ritual. It preserved the blossom, but above all, it revealed meticulous care, an understated yet romantic art of living.
