Everyone I know seems to have a rescue dog. My sister-in-law cares for (rescue) feral cats. These are worthy endeavors.
I have rescue stuff. Thrift store shopping is by definition a rescue mission. I am drawn to the imperfect rejects: the cashmere sweater with a tiny hole, the cookbook with stained pages. How could someone cast off something with such a minor defect? I suppose I am thinking of my own defects and imperfections: minor and not so minor.
A recent rescue: At the New Orleans Airport, we were sitting neat a few business travelers, all male, with that aura of success. The one with the most obvious aura got up, said loudly "After 25 years, it's time to say good-bye." Walked over to the trash and dramatically threw out a small travel bag. It looked nice to me.
I figured his performance was public, so I said Why are you throwing it out? He said The bottom split. Do you want it?
I said I have a tendency to rescue things, so OK. He went back to the trash, fished it out, and presented it to me.
It was a Ghurka bag, a bit stained, but still nice. Kinda like this, only without the outside pocket. I told him we would try to fix it. He seemed happy. He told me he had carried the bag on trips for 25 years, many to Europe.
As the concept person (see my post on harder-than-they-look window treatments!), I rely on people with know-how to get things done. Enter Mr FS. He glued the bag from the inside. He used PL Loctite Sealant.
Honestly, the bag is so neat that I would duct tape it from the outside if necessary.
Are rescues an inherently virtuous activity? I don't know. They can lead to clutter. What do you think?