Ülger: The Fine Hair On Peach or Velvet - Turkish
Touches that move us across various places, teach us secret truths, and weave invisible bonds with our hearts
In the quiet, naive, and little days of our childhood, touch was important. The textures of objects were meaningful to us; they often led us through silent lessons and judgments.
Velvet, take as an example. Velvet reminded me of nobility as a child. Princesses' dresses had to be velvet. Because velvet skirts or dresses were bought for me on special occasions. I had three or four dresses—not many—and I always wore them on holidays, but they were red and velvet.
When I was wearing my red velvet skirt, I felt uneasy about eating the chocolates that were offered to the children on feast days, fearing they would stain my noble dress. Yet I would never let anyone take the chocolates that we rarely ate; I would hide them in the darkest corners, where I was the master. So the chocolates, which I was afraid would stain my red velvet skirt on feast days, were carefully hidden in every corner of the house, waiting for my visit at night for my special treat.
Satin was also distinctive. Unlike velvet, satin was smooth and fluid; one's hand could move effortlessly over an entire satin dress without encountering even the littlest obstacle. Satin was obviously the fabric of special occasions, which absolutely did not belong to the world of children. Instead, it was a surface that embellished the world of adult women. Nightgowns were satin, for example. My mother's were satin, while our nightgowns were combed cotton. The difference was more than obvious.
I loved the silky stockings that my mother wore on special occasions. I would caress her legs embarrassedly, avoiding letting her realize it. That touch reminded me of the woman I desired to become in the future. A woman who always wore silk stockings. A beautiful woman who wore dresses to match the silk stockings was the envy of everyone.
The cotton was soft, like our pajamas. Cotton meant sincerity and innocence, and it also casualty. You would not wear a cotton dress on a special occasion. While it provided the comfort of the everyday, it was never worthy of being worn in a fancy restaurant. Like the ridiculous and comforting mischief we do when we are by ourselves, like the behavior that belongs to us but is not stylish enough to be done in the presence of others.
Plush, on the other hand, was a fabric of objects that were meant to be hugged to feel safe. Until I became a young woman, my plush monkey, who was always with me in the corner of my bed, even when she wasn't in my bosom, was a witness to all my adolescent adventures. Even when I was angry with each and every person else, I would never get angry with her, as she was always waiting in the corner for me. He wouldn't make the littlest sound, while his lap was constantly open to accept me.
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The associations formed by surfaces are always strong. Sometimes a touch evokes a memory that we thought was long gone. Unexpected and striking memories.
A Turkish word I recently discovered refers to one of the strongest forms of surfaces. The word Ülger is a name given to the hairy structure of surfaces such as peach and velvet. While it is a word we sometimes hear as a surname, I honestly didn't bother learning its meaning, but once I learned it, I couldn't avoid writing down its connotations.
While velvet is valuable, peach is a fruit that I am hesitant to touch peaches due to their hairy feel. I do not enjoy eating them with their peel. When it hits my teeth, I get an odd feeling within.
Once more, we have witnessed how meaningful and impactful the words are, and also our touches.
This week, I was a bit late due to the holiday week in Turkey, but I'm also content to have discovered a gem from my native language that led me through distant connotations. I hope you enjoyed it as well.
Till next week,
— Gulsun