I was always a “mariposa” kind of little girl. Sure, I liked fairies and princesses and, of course, the rare and beautiful fairy princess, but butterflies were magic I could see. My mother and I planted milkweed (a monarch’s favorite snack) in our central Texas garden each season, and I’ll never forget the pure excitement of the first butterfly’s arrival. It’s fair to say that this was my first real fixation; I couldn’t get enough. Here enter butterfly clips.
Hair has always been a challenge for me. To be mixed race is to be by nature complicated, and in my case this is especially true in the hair department. Being a curly-headed girl born to a straight-haired mother, neither of us really had a clue when it came to my curls. Styling my hair when I was young was a struggle, and I hated every second of it. But suddenly—and without warning—came my plastic, colorful messiah: butterfly clips. It didn’t matter that they were small and sometimes scratchy and not strong enough to pull back the tide that was my hair on their own. All that counted was that they were a) pink and b) butterflies. I’d wear them as one would a tiara, constantly tailed by a halo of pink and purple insects. Sometimes they’d dot down the length of my braid, sometimes they’d nestle in the hair swept behind my ear, and always they were so, so loved.
I don’t remember when I lost touch with my clips. Being quite small, it was too easy to lose them, and I admit I lost a lot of them. My love didn’t disappear so much as it faded; in the end I went years without even thinking about them. So this summer, when I saw that butterfly clips were having a moment, I was hit with a barrage of good memories. Of course I immediately placed an order and then I waited, hit with the same delirious anticipation I felt when I was so small, waiting for the first monarch of the season to enter our garden.
When the butterflies arrived, it was like a scene out of a movie. Humphrey Bogart realizing it’s Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca, Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks finally meeting in Sleepless in Seattle, Jack and Rose locking eyes in Titanic—well, maybe not. It might have been more like anytime you receive a package you’ve been excitedly awaiting. But nevertheless, the reunion was spectacular. My twelve little plastic clips were immediately as precious to me as they had been when I was a little girl.
Perfect for a cute summer look, they were an instant staple in my hair routine. I wore them in a lot of the same ways I had when I was young, but the wisdom and courage that comes with having grown up also encouraged me to wear my clips in newer, more creative ventures. They dotted my braids, clung to my loose curls, and decorated my messy buns. The reunion has been glorious, and I know that me and my butterfly clips won’t be separating for a long time. To this day, they flutter through my curls. I am very proud to say that I haven’t lost a single one.