Moleskine

Moleskine

I discovered Moleskine notebooks about eight years ago. I love them. I love the way they look and the way they feel. I have never owned one. I have purchased them and given them as gifts but I have never allowed myself to indulge in their luxury and utility.

Moleskine notebooks were produced in France and used as the preferred notebook and sketchbook for legendary artists including Van Gogh who made sketches on Moleskine sketchbooks. So did Picasso and Matisse. Ernest Hemingway used Moleskine books to make notes and plot stories for his novels. He describes writing at a café in Paris, using his notebook, in Moveable Feast and in The Sun Also Rises. Hemingway is one of my favorite writers. How could I not be impressed by and drawn to Moleskine notebooks when they were once again produced in 1998, after being gone from the face of the earth for years?

If you’ve never seen one or touched one, you should jog down to your favorite book store and look for one. I know that chains such as Borders and Barnes & Nobel carry them. So do some of the smaller bookstores. I was recently (well last April) drawn to a display of Moleskine notebooks and “city books” at Powell’s Books in Portland. I really wanted to buy one and I did. I got the small pocket sized ones in a three pack. I gave them to my son who uses little notebooks for ideas and notes, even though he now has a great cell phone/PDA to do it on.

I had actually thought to myself that this year I might gift myself a Moleskine notebook for my birthday. I had rationalized it but I’m sure I would have backed off in the end.

Last night my daughter wanted me to go with her to run some errands. I did. It isn’t often these days that my 17 year old wants me with her. So we got gas in her car and ran off to the craft store and then on the way back, she said she had to stop by Barnes & Nobel. She knows I hate that store. She said “I just have to run in and grab something. I already know where it is. You can wait in the car if you want. I know you don’t like Barnes & Nobel.” So off she went as I sat in the car. Just five minutes later she came back, got into the car and handed me a package and, with a smile she said, “It’s for you.” I had been caught by surprise. Totally by surprise. I looked blankly at her and said, “What is this for?” and she smiled and said, “Because you’re such a good mom.” I wanted to cry. I wanted to hug her tightly and not let her go.

I opened the package and it was a Moleskine.

“It’s for your Nanowrimo stuff. So you can sit and make notes when you aren’t at your computer. I got you the blank one that opens the long way so you can make plot sketches and character sketches.” She had this look of satisfaction on her face so I did not argue with her. My inclination was to tell her she didn’t have to get me such an extravagant gift with her hard-earned money. But the look in her eyes told me she knew she didn’t have to. She just wanted to do it for me.

For the second time this week, she made me cry.

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