The Paperclip Chronicles document adventures involving the humble paperclip, a piece of office stationery so versatile that it has become a staple (no pun intended) of my day-pack.
A few months ago on a cold, wintery day, Alecia Fowler was afflicted by two wardrobe malfunctions. One of them would have made a Victorian blush while the other one made Alecia blush. We’ll save the bootie and zipper malfunction for last.
The first malfunction involved Alecia’s glasses; one of the temples (the fold-y bits on a pair of glasses) had extricated itself from the metallic grip of the rest of the frame. She attempted to balance the glasses without the temple, but things didn’t work out so well. She mentioned this to JP and me. JP thought it would be an easy fix with a pair of screw drivers but, unfortunately, the screws that had held the temple in place had disappeared. Alecia was getting all bent out of shape, but the ever-resourceful JP took a paperclip and began to bend it out of shape. Without screwing around and faster than you could say “Herod,” JP attached his instant temple. Alecia was embarrassed, though, even though no one she asked about it noticed her tentative temples (thanks for the picture, Alecia!). Paperclips 1, Alecia’s wardrobe 0.
The second malfunction, as I mentioned, would have made a Victorian blush, but with good cause, too: it was quite a bit racier. It involved footwear. You see (actually, avert your eyes, children), the zipper tab on one of her boots broke off and would have left her ankle exposed. With it being cold and snowy outside, this was one of those times where one must make a stand (with properly insulated feet, of course). I fashioned a hook to allow her to toggle the zipped state of her boots. Disaster averted. Paperclips 2, Alecia’s wardrobe 0.
Paperclips seemed to be on such a roll that, if Alecia had had a problem with a head covering that day, I’m sure the paperclips could have made a hat trick.