Today was going to be a great day, a day of completion, a day of celebration.
You see? I found a beautiful example of a Wexford pewter mist fourteen inch platter. The first one I purchased is severely faded in color with only a bit of iridescence left, as are most fourteen inch platters I see in the pewter mist finish. It is a notoriusly inconsistent and/or unstable color finish. But this new one? It was glorious. Absoutely glorious, as dark and shimmery as most of my other pewter mist pieces.
It was the last piece I needed to complete the pewter mist offerings of the Wexford line. At least, the last I needed to have an excellent sample of each piece.
And then I retrieved the box from the front porch.
I mean, it was a large box, noticeably larger than the platter itself. Maybe it was fine. I rolled the box gently side-to-side. I heard a shift of packing peanuts, not the heart-shattering tinkle of little shards of glass.
Maybe.
Except, there were no packing peanuts to be found. Only padding paper and bubblewrap. And broken glass.
I could say the box was thinner than I would expect. I could say the bubblewrap was wrapped more thinly than I would expect. I could say that the box had open space in it, more open space than I would expect.
But as buyer, I have no control over these things.
When I saw the box initially, I started taking photos, just in case, as experience has taught me. I shared them with the seller. A full refund has already been issued, but still… I had just learned that there was a nearly perfect pewter mist platter in the world, and now it’s gone. Technically? I suppose it just goes back to what I felt previously: that there are no perfect examples of the pewter mist fourteen inch platter.
Except: now I know there was one. At least one.
Herein lies the trauma of experiences like this – experiences that have been increasing in occurence of late – I have reached the point in my Wexford collection that I am looking for the hard-to-find things. The things that take years to find, if I ever do find them. The things that maybe were never reorded as part of the official production: Whimsies, third party creations, Frankenstein creations by other collectors.
This isn’t losing a beverage glass that I have forty-plus of. That are regularly in sets of eight to twelve in any thrift. That are often thrown into other glassware lots to move them. This is something I may never see again.
And that stinks.
I wish I had a take-away, a shiny lesson of growth and wisdom that might shield me from future harm, further grief, but I don’t. This silly little glass pattern that was originally sold for pennies apiece brings me an immense amount of joy. I’ll say that the reward is worth the risk, but I will need a period to mourn, a period to catch my breath and settle into the loss.
Then bring on the next glorious discovery!
wexford: a study 