A friend once challenged me to a ruler count. I had 35. She won. That led me to think about scissors, a tool whose name, concept, action, and functioning sound I love. The laws governing them are endearingly sensible : don’t run with them, don’t point them at your sister, and don’t use the fabric scissors for paper. Ever.
My sleek black Nevanons rule. They are Teflon-coated
and crucial for cutting gummy things like ATG tape
because nothing sticks to them. Nothing.
They must be self-sharpening
because they cut as crisply now
as they when they were new a decade ago.
The scissors with the most satisfying hand action are pinking shears. I admire the way they insist that your grip is firm. that the blades are opened fully, and that you move ahead with deliberation. There is no such thing as rushing pinking shears.
I thought I had made a full count of my scissors until yesterday when I opened an old tin box that had belonged to my mother, the inimitable Olga. She must have decided that she did not need them but could not throw them away. Some seem like fine, well-made little tools, a couple are sort of cheap, but they all have charm.
My favorite is the pair of buttonhole scissors, so emphatically specific. The cut starts ½” in from the edge and is precisely 1” long. My little sister and I, uncharacteristically, used to break one of the rules as we cut many, many one-inch slits into papers for some reason long forgotten.
In Piecework Magazine, Dawn Cook Ronningen write about patents for buttonhole scissors and the variety of mechanisms intended to achieve a perfect cut. As for me, when I make -- rarely -- a buttonhole, I hold my breath and use the chisel/woodblock/hammer method. When you can bring drama to your work, go for it.
Addendum: when my sister Christy read about our mom's scissors, she joined the hunt and found a pair of buttonhole scissors that probably belonged to our grandmother, Luella. They are both elegant and slightly comic with
a sort of froggy look, equipped with a knob for adjusting the cut.
Addendum II: my highly imaginative and deeply creative friend, Carly,
came across these monsters in a local antiques mall.
Serious shears when you have a particular job to do.
Scary as all get out.
Addendum III
When my brave and beautiful friend, Alice, an artist and yoga teacher, confessed that she did not have even one good pair of scissors, I went on-line shopping for Valentine’s Day. After ordering a workhorse pair of Fiskars for her, I fell for this little delight.
For scale: an over-ripe cherry tomato.
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