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27 December 2012

Two thousand dollars' worth of china In 1962, when my mother was engaged to be married, she bought a $2000 set of Minton bone china in the S-665 Downing pattern. [More:]She was a teacher and I doubt she would have made much more than $2000 a year, and she might have made less. She told me she "had visions of being very elegant, and of entertaining".

She was marrying a farmer, and they had very little money. They ended up living with my grandparents for the first year of their marriage while my father built our house. I said to my mother once, "If you'd invested that $2000 in 1962, and left it...", and she said, "But I wouldn't have left it. I would have taken it out to use to build our house when we needed money so badly for that."

The china mostly just sat in the cupboard. We did use it a few times a year, for Thanksgiving and Christmas and other special occasions. I've always meant to write a short story entitled "Two Thousand Dollars' Worth of China" or something like that, about a young woman who buys an expensive set of china because she has certain expectations of her marriage, and then finds the china doesn't suit the reality. I did use the china set in a similar way in a novel I'm writing.

I don't think you'd find too many young women today who'd use such an enormous amount of money in such a way, who'd outfit themselves for marriage with dinnerware and expect to be an elegant homemaker as though that was just what people did. It was very much symptomatic of the times my mother was in.

Mind you, my mother is a very practical, very independent woman who never sat back and expected to be supported by my father. She had supported herself from the time she was 16, she put herself through teacher's college, and she paid for the wedding with no help from her family and not much help from my dad. She continued teaching after marriage until she had two children and it wasn't financially viable to pay childcare for two out of her salary, and she went back to work when her youngest child was four. Even while she was at home with us she always earned some money in various ways: taking in foster children, sewing for other people, tutoring, selling produce from the garden. And she has always been the one who manages the household budget. Perhaps that why the china has always caught at my imagination, because it seemed like such an uncharacteristic decision. Not that my mother didn't always have her notions of How a Household Should Be Run, and fret a lot at the gap between her standards and what we simply had to settle for.

Anyway, she still has the set of china, with just one piece missing: the plate the gravy boat sits on. I suppose some day the china will be mine, because my sister doesn't want it. While I was at home over Christmas I decided I'd try to find a gravy boat plate on the net (the pattern was discontinued in 1975), and give it to her as part of her Mother's Day gift. I've set up an eBay alert for the purpose.
You might also be able to find the plate on replacements.com.
posted by sperose 27 December | 10:58
It's hard to understand the importance of a set of china from our current perspective.
But I think we have similar props that we attach great social/status value to. That carry our dreams of the life we'd like to lead. That spell "I'm not settling for dearth"
For instance with women of my generation having the right kind of kitchen is very important. And going on vacation on other continents.

In my mind we're all bowerbirds building our lives and homes. It's inherent in being human I think.

My mother didn't get a very expensive porcelain set. But she did get a silver set of cutlery. To her that was essential to having a real home.
posted by jouke 27 December | 11:03
My mother gave me her china a couple of years ago -- she'd used it about as much as Orange Swan's mother, although she didn't buy it until after the 4 of us kids were born, probably sometime in the late 60s/early 70s. I don't really need it, but I couldn't bear not to take it. And I have finally used a piece -- the meat platter for Christmas dinner!

Maybe I'll just chuck my everyday plates and use ALL THE CHINA ALL THE TIME.
posted by JanetLand 27 December | 11:12
Replacements.com does indeed have it, but priced at $56.99, and they'll charge just under $40 to ship with. With the exchange rate, that'll be over $100CDN. Yikes. I think I'll hold off on that purchase for a few months and hope I can find a Downing gravy underplate on ebay for about half that much.
posted by Orange Swan 27 December | 11:15
after reading that NYT article about the culture gap in education that was posted to the blue yesterday, I think the modern equivalent of your mom's china set might be an expensive (and frequently useless) college degree; especially one taken with little understanding of higher education and/or what safety nets are available and the bureaucracy one must undertake to achieve these goals.
posted by lonefrontranger 27 December | 12:10
"visions of being very elegant, and of entertaining" - Similarly, my mom. However, one finds little elegance when surrounded by cow pastures.
posted by Ardiril 27 December | 12:40
In my mind we're all bowerbirds building our lives and homes.

This phrase is going to sing in my head for hours and days.

When I was a little girl, I loved our antique silver tea-and-coffee sets, complete with all the little accoutrements and each with its enormous tray; one set was passed down through my father's family and the other down my mother's. I polished one or the other as often as Mom would let me.

I don't know that I ever saw them used, except once when I was, oh, maybe 8 and got permission to hold a tea party. I spent hours and hours reading everything I could find about setting A Proper Tea: warming the pot and providing a waste bowl and what food to serve. I spent some of my allowance on sugar cubes. I remember almost nothing about the party itself, except for the deep satisfaction I felt, sitting there with a china cup* in my hand, looking at the little claws of the sugar tongs, gleaming smooth and bright.

My mother sold the tea-and-coffee sets when she moved to her new home a few years ago. I felt a little pang, but I certainly didn't want them. Even in my childhood rapture, I knew they belonged to a long-vanished way of life, one with long empty afternoons and a cook preparing little cakes and tea sandwiches and plenty of servants to keep that silver bright and wordlessly bring in more sandwiches and cakes and hot water.

Sometimes these material indulgences are a daydream about a possible lifestyle. Sometimes they're a burden, a reminder of an impossible standard. (I'm pretty sure my mother, a tightly-budgeted middle-class housewife, was haunted by the cabinets and shelves full of the posh ornaments of long-dead wealthier relatives --- the silver finger bowls and cut-glass fruit bowls and Limoges tureens and massive punch bowls that taunted with the suggestion of lavish parties and silk gowns and buffets of rich foods.) Sometimes they're both at the same time.

*The china cups were sort of magical to me, but in a different way. I was allowed to use them without asking. When my parents worked in boarding schools, they used to hold a weekend open house for the students, and this was my mother's solution to the kids breaking her precious matching coffee set: she started buying mismatched china cups whenever she found them for cheap, so the kids could use fine china but not feel bad if one got broken.

I have the china cups now, and they're packed away, all but forgotten, in the basement. I did unpack them for my wedding shower, a fancy tea-and-champagne lunch, but mostly because I knew it would please Mom.
posted by Elsa 27 December | 12:41
Boxing Day earworm! (YouTube link) || An interesting animated gif

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