In Defense of the Doily, a Passage -- by Alex Ranieri
If there is an object which, while seemingly innocent, nevertheless earns the contempt and ridicule of our streamlined era, it is surely the doily. The doily comprises every quality we have determined to be objectionable: it is delicate, lovely, and almost useless. You cannot really put a drink down on a doily—on the one hand, there is the fear of staining or damaging its threads, and on the other, there is the obvious drawback of its being full of holes. With a coaster you know where you are, and, if it has a picture from your recent holiday blazoned across it, you also know where you’ve been. A doily, by contrast, is a challenge to our societal urge to find uses for things.
There is a fine old story about usefulness. One day, a philosopher was taking a leisurely walk, when a farmer who knew him by sight, thus accosted him: “Your philosophy is nonsense, and I can prove it. Take this tree—” and he pointed out an old, gnarled specimen on his property, “you say everything has a use just as it is—but this tree is entirely useless. It’s so twisted and gnarled, I can’t even cut it down, let alone use it to make furniture. It’s not even good for firewood. Now, what do you say to that?”
The philosopher was not in the least perturbed. “Certainly, it would be a shame to try and cut firewood from so fine a tree—but have you forgotten all the hot afternoons, when you have been glad to leave your work aside for a while, and sit in its shade?”
The doily provides the same welcome shade for the spirit, as that gnarled and twisted tree does for the body. We have exposed every inch of our lives and homes to the light—and a very harsh light it can be. Perhaps it is easier to strip a room to the bone; there is, perhaps, a fear of introducing an element of beauty and appearing foolish as a result. But humans cannot live in showrooms or in furniture ads. From this perspective, there is no conflict between a doily’s beauty and its use—they are one and the same. Although this use may not be as straightforward as a coaster’s, it is my belief that it is no less necessary.
