Patina

There was a time in my life when I was deeply into vintage watches.

In the vintage watch world, there is a mark of beauty that certain watches have, and those are often coveted more highly.

This beauty is referred to as patina.

Patina has two definitions. One is a technical term for a chemical process. The other is this:

A surface appearance of something grown beautiful especially with age or use.

If a watch has patina, it has character.

More importantly than that, it has a story.

The depth of the story can be gleaned from the depth of the patina.

***

In our house, we have several bottles—well, they're technically more like pens—of this miracle product called Tide To Go.

It's marketed as an instant stain remover.

Sometimes I'm a messy eater and I'm often the cook as well, so this means that my clothes are fertile ground for stains.

I've recently found myself using the magical Tide To Go quite a bit.

But now, I'm stuck.

Even as I write this, I don't know exactly where I stand on the following question.

Aren't stains just another form of patina?

***

As a reminder, patina is a surface appearance of something grown beautiful especially with age or use.

So let's agree that a stained t-shirt fits with at least some of that definition. If it's stained, it must have been used.

The real question is, is the t-shirt more beautiful with the stains or without them?

Keep that question in your mind and now consider the same application to a different article of clothing.

Let's suppose I also own a chef's apron—I don't, but it's nice to imagine.

Is a chef's apron—for a chef at home—more beautiful with stains or without them?

Patina has a story. Whether you consider stains to be a form of patina or not, every stain has a story.

I think we can learn a lot about ourselves by the stains we choose to remove.

And the ones we choose to keep.