05/18/2026
When I was very young, I can remember going to Bloomingdale’s and perusing their stock of ribbons - all were mounted on rods and displayed importantly. There were many colors, widths, and patterns. Many were imported.
In Sicily, in days long gone by, ribbons were important. They were special embellishments that could be obtained more readily than a new dress - a gift from a doting father returning from the big city, perhaps, but special too, even for the nobility. A new ribbon could be woven into your hair or affixed to your hat, dress, or chemise.
There was a street in Palermo where the ribbon makers worked their craft, weaving in different colors and designs. They were called Zagarelli.
The street was at one time in the Borgo Vecchio, located between the aristocratic Via Libertà and Palermo’s port.
I love ribbons. For me, they identify my chargers, and hang tiles on the walls - a different use in the 21st century, but a way to remind me of a different time.
