When I was 10, I got a Levi’s denim jacket for my birthday.
My dream present; what I had desperately wanted. I was so proud, wearing it out
with my friends. Then I guess I got all overexcited and left it on the back of
my chair in the Hard Rock Café (height of sophistication for a birthday outing
at this time). My parents were furious. Fortunately, it was still there when I
tearfully ran back inside for it.
I was lucky that time, but since then I have made a habit of
losing things and then insisting that I never lose things. I’m coming to terms
with it now. Only just.
So, I was heartened to read M Train and discover that Patti Smith seems to have the same
problem. I both felt for her and considered myself silently vindicated every
time she left her favourite camera on a park bench or mysteriously misplaced a
beloved coat.
At its heart, it is a book about grief – a beautiful and
incredibly affecting one – so it is fitting that it should focus so much on
things that have been lost. I noticed that lost things pop up throughout the
book, with varying degrees of significance.
Here are some things that I have lost, which I still think
about. Ones that were really lost,
not things stolen, given away, or lent and never returned. Lost.
My favourite umbrella, the best I have ever owned: left on a
park bench, outside a railway station, waiting for a date.
A very nice pair of black lacy knickers: left in a hotel bed
in Ireland. I still have the matching bra and a new pair of knickers that don’t
quite match.
My two favourite necklaces, which I used to wear every day:
left in the changing room of a bridal shop, trying on bridesmaids’ dresses
before my friend Lou’s wedding.
An implausibly long brown scarf, which actually my
ex-boyfriend lost, along with a brown cardigan that also belonged to me. It’s
funny, because he lost it once at a gig in Glasgow and somehow managed to track
it down and have it posted back to me, but then later lost it again much closer
to home, for good this time.
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