The OutKast

Wandering the cloakroom of the James J. Hill house in St. Paul, I came across this goofy fellow and was reminded enormously of 3:07 in this music video.

The Cuddlers

Reena spotted these in the Electric Fetus parking lot - possibly my favorites as of yet. 

The Chocoholic

Izzy and Gareth strike again, this time in Berlin in mid-December!

The Minnesoooooootan

My dear friend Reena, who lives in Virginia but whom I met in England and who's been privy to many black glove encounters in the past, came to visit me in Minnesota over Christmas break.

We're walking along Grand Avenue in St. Paul on the way to Café Latte when I remark that I don't think I've ever taken a picture of a black glove in Minnesota; we discuss how strange this is, seeing that Minnesota is freaking sub-zero.

Not ten seconds later: THIS.

The Creation

Students' Union, Sistine Chapel - same thing.

The Best Weekend Ever

I went to London intending to return the same night and stayed there for three days. During this time, I:
-developed an addiction to Müller Rice
-was permanently rain-soaked
-found 5 BGs (two of which are on my as-yet-undeveloped disposable camera), which
-must have made quite an odd impression on the people I was with, most of whom were awesome, Greek, and five to ten years my senior.

After a few hours of waffling over whether it was worth it to miss my 2 PM seminar on Monday for more fun and frivolity (retrospectively: I was half an hour late anyway, it was 2 hours' worth of Holocaust poetry, I smelled like a dog - it definitely would have been worth it), I hopped on the train back to Reading and promptly found two more gloves.

This was one of two gloves (or perhaps the same one trampled into relocation) I found on Carnaby Street. A group of boys who must have been a bit younger than me were watching as I crouched and snapped a picture of it, and then imitated the cheesy shutter noise of my phone. Oh, joy! 

Also Carnaby Street.

Notting Hill Road, after a thoroughly revolting hot apple cider. 

Chameleoned outside the RUSU building upon my return to dear old Reading.

Alas, someone shucked them off to add cream to their coffee in the HUMSS café and forgot about them. 

The Usual

November 25-
It's not a trip to the SportsPark without at least one black glove along a half-mile stretch of sidewalk! I think I'm getting the hang of the whole slowing-of-the-pace, dawdling-off-to-the-side, pretending-to-receive-a-text, deliberating-and-pretending-to-respond-while-actually-doubling-back-and-taking-a-photo-of-the-loot trick.

The Glaswegians

November 18-21:
Daniel and I were, um, uninformed enough to visit Glasgow in November. Apparently that place, at that time of the year, is kind of miserable, weather-wise, as we found out the hard way. However, constant umbrella-mangling winds and curtains of rain are ideal conditions for black glove spotting! Hence, I found three specimens, all along Sauchiehall Street.
(Apologies for the horrendous quality of the first one. The wind wasn't doing me any favors.)

The Campus Crusader

Tuesday, November 17-
This obscured all trace of what had previously been a horrendous morning.

The Four-Fingered Salute

Mid-November:
My housemate Rob was thoughtful enough to remember me. I think he secretly loves this.

I just have to say: I typed the tag "england" just as Tobias Fröberg sang "in my favorite room in England" over my iTunes. That sort of music-typing coincidence seems to happen to me an uncanny amount.

The Country Mouse

Early November:
Committed Correspondent Aaron says: On a ramble, in frampton-upon-severn, in the cotswolds, came along this little monster.

The Rising Sun

Monday, November 2nd-
Daniel and I were on the way to see Efterklang, walking down the road that later turns into London Street, past the Rising Sun pub (the poetry-centric one, not the metalhead one) when we encountered this bad boy lurking like the proverbial troll under the bridge.

The Reason Behind This Blog

In the nearly impossible chance that someone other than myself may be reading this, I suppose I should provide some sort of background for why the heck I'm posting all these pictures of black gloves.

Unfortunately, the reason behind this is slightly shameful. In high school, my friends and I took to referring to a certain boy, who shall FOREVER remain nameless, as "The Black Glove" because he appeared to pop up everywhere without warning - he was ubiquitous. The extent to which I recognized the prevalence of BGs wasn't apparent until nearly halfway through my second year of university in England, but honestly, there must be hundreds of black gloves lost and discarded every day. Whenever I see one, I feel a slight pang of sadness rooted completely in inanimate-object-glorification animated films such as The Brave Little Toaster, both for the glove and its erstwhile owner. At the same time, it's a weirdly comforting thought to know that nearly everyone, at least those who have spent time in cold climes, has experienced the unique irk of losing a single glove (both if you're lucky.) 

Since last November, I've been documenting each glove or pair of gloves that I've come across, with the sole requirement that they must be black - small stripes are fine, as long as black is the predominant color - and posting them in a Facebook album. Shortly thereafter, various friends began to send me pictures of black gloves they'd come across. Someone suggested I start a blog. That's all. 

The Spunky Aardvarks

October 21, 2009: 

The inaugural specimen(s), balled up on the office floor of a certain controversial publication.

The Stile Icon

Mid-September:

Literary Correspondents Izzy and Gareth stumble upon an unseasonable comrade!

The Watchdogs

June 18:

Alexia was rad enough to take me to the center of Athens, the last place I'd have expected to find a semi-abandoned (honestly, why would you leave them on the STREET after parking your motorbike?) pair of BGs. The TRUE last ones of the season? Wait and see...

The Harbinger of Construction

Late April:

Most likely the last one of the season, waiting in vain for a pal at the typical black glove hangout (the sidewalk leading to the SportsPark.)

Farewell until next year?

The Ghost of Oscar Wilde

Thursday, April 9, outside the Père Lachaise Metro station. Chain of events:

1. Daniel and I emerge from underground and head for an ATM across the street.
2. He hops across a short fence separating the sidewalk and street. I try, fail, trip, bang my left knee, and stagger around screeching "OW!" to the joy of onlookers.
3. My eyes rest upon this beast.
4. We reach the ATM, only to find that both my American and English banks have blocked my debit cards thinking that I am actually an identity thief who has run off to France.
EDIT: my debit card had actually been temporarily drained of approximately £918 due to me not reading the fine print on the VELIB system. THRILLS.

The Covent Garden Street Performer

Not.

(Early April.)

The Snow Leopard

April:

Viennese Correspondent Copenhaver informs HQ that "it happens in Dresden, too!"

The Pin-Up

Somewhere near the beginning of April:

In Grantham with Dani, Becky, and two of the delightful Howell sisters.

The Slick Rick

Same day still, Oslo:

At Kringsjå, Megan's tram stop.

The Wee Ones

Same day in Oslo:

This is so heartrending! Two tiny black mittens (I had to make an exception) on the sidewalk on the way to Vigeland Park.

The Sludge Dweller

Late March: Oslo again.

YEEHAW!

(It took about four tries to adequately convey Megan's enthusiasm.)

The T-Baner

Late March: 

At a tram stop in Oslo. Unfortunately, this is the first impression Megan's friends have of me.

The Italian Humanitarian Philosophical Sociologists

Late March once more:

Outside Humms, a lovely duo! By this time, Noah has the gleeful contemplation look down pat. 

The Trickster

Late March again:

Kings Road near TVU, walking back from the train station after a day in Oxford. Once again, Daniel refuses to associate himself with such tomfoolery.

(Also, I lie: this glove was actually navy blue, but Confucius say all gloves look black at nighttime.)

The Scholar

Oxford, late March:

Noah is contemplating it with glee!

The Overpriced Bhaji

Late March:

Shortly after Noah's arrival, we saw this while walking into town on Wokingham Road outside of Garden of Gulab.

The Cause of Embarrassment

Shinfield/Christchurch intersection, late March:

"Oh, no, not AGAIN! I don't know this girl." (walks briskly away from me) 

-Daniel

The Wraith

March:

Walking back from Cat's birthday party, Cemetery Junction

The Trashman

Elmhurst Road, mid-March:

Jess and I had agreed that glove season was drawing to a close. Au contraire!

The Antiques

Mid-March:

For sale in Snooper's Paradise, Brighton

The Hurtwood

March:

Culver Road Correspondent Becka finds this "absolute gem" while wandering in the Surrey Hills!

The Night Owl

Sunday, 2/22:

Daniel and I walked to Sonning. On the way home, we cut across Palmer Park and I took this awful-quality photo of SPLENDOR IN THE GRASS!

The Intellectuals

Wednesday, 2/18:

These bad boys have been in HUMMS 244 for a few weeks now.

The Kebab Lover

Monday, 2/16:

I was walking back up Wokingham Road from the girls' house on Culver when I saw this lying outside Subway, pointing directly to Adam Quality Foods. Maybe it wanted half a goat. The blue lights in the distance are from an ambulance.

The Bargain Hunter

Sunday, 2/15:

Went to London with Reena and discovered this classy glove at the top of Portobello Road!

The Reverse Michael Jackson

The 13th again:

This was an extremely awkward picture to take! New condos are being built on Green Road, which I traverse every day on the way to Whiteknights. A few days earlier, I'd seen this, but it had been covered in frost so I had no idea what its true color was. When I saw that it was black and rubber, I tried to quickly (hence the blurry chunk of my finger in the foreground) snap a picture of it without alerting the construction workers directly across from me as to what I was doing. (As if they'd have been able to figure it out.)

The Gamblers

Azar texted me with this picture on... I think it was Friday the 13th again. She was playing poker in HUMMS and they were hanging around.

The Hedgehog

Friday again, on Wokingham Road.

The Conehead

Friday, 2/13:

Outside the Bridges entrance. Horribly mangled, just chilling with a cone.

The Arthritic

Thursday, February 12:

Christchurch Road Correspondent Dipesh says: I found this chap on Christchurch Road; I walked past him on my way to campus but decided to cross the road and investigate on my way home.

The Rolling Stone

Aaron also elucidates: 

Numero dos. Found on the way back from church to my house, on Elmhurst Road, just kickin' about.

The Quarterback

Thursday, 2/12:

Aaron says: This is numero uno. Found on my way to my friend's house to watch the Super Bowl, corner of Addington and Eastern.