The Lonely Glove Phenomenon: Lonely Glove Socialization
After ruminating over lonely gloves by myself for weeks, I decided to take the next step: public exposure.
I gauged others’ awareness of lonely gloves in one of two ways. Most often, I would inorganically bring up the topic with a “Hey, have you ever noticed…” and would usually get an “Uh, yeah I guess” in reply. Their reluctant concession came from the logic that it’s cold outside, so people wear gloves, and so people are bound to lose them. It’s just a fact of life. Other times, friends would catch me trying to stealthily walk back to places we’d already traveled, and I had to sheepishly admit it was because I wanted to take a picture of a glove.
Regardless of which instance I told people about lonely gloves, it was too late for them. From the moment the words “lonely glove” had left my lips, I had planted this little seed of knowledge: the knowledge of lonely gloves.
Then, I started getting the texts. Pictures of lonely gloves. Proof that the phenomenon was not just a myth. Friends would spot their first lonely glove and send me photo evidence saying, “Look! Look at this lonely glove I found! They really do exist!”
(Top Left to Right): Lonely Glove images provided by Oceané Marescal, Benjy Berkowitz, Oceané Marescal again (double whammy!), Philip Phan, and Talia Spitz
As I mentioned the Lonely Glove Phenomenon to more people, I found myself in a mass exchange of glove pics with friends. After receiving said pics, we’d ask each other the vital follow-up question: “Where’d you find it?!” I was swimming in lonely glove pics.
I’m just kidding, to an extent. Let’s just say the number of people who sent me their lonely glove sightings is less than the number of fingers on a lonely glove. When planning this column, I was only going to focus on my tiny network of lonely-glovers, until I came across Koji Ishii two weeks ago—a god tier lonely glove documenter.
Koji Ishii is a Japanese photographer who takes pictures of lonely gloves. His Instagram page featuring his finds dates back to 2012, but he has been documenting them since 2004. He’s captured over 5,000 images of lonely gloves. Ishii even has a website dedicated to explaining lonely gloves, very much like this column.
Some might be dubious about the uncanny resemblance between my analysis of lonely gloves and Ishii’s. (Plagiarism, much?) I mean, we both even refer to them as lonely. But while some may squint their eyes with skepticism, my eyes are wide open with amazement and disbelief.
I am stunned and honestly touched that two people in different generations, separate countries, and who speak different languages, can view something seemingly mundane as lonely gloves and come to the same poetic conclusions. I can’t put it into words.
I guess it was pretty naive of me to believe that I was the only human on earth to ever notice a glove laying on the street. How small-minded! But lonely gloves are bigger than even Koji Ishii.
Accounts from left to right: @lostglovers, @tabtehandsker, @lost.objects
Finding Ishii sent me down a rabbit-hole of other lonely glove photographers, and I realized there is a whole world of lonely glove enthusiasts out there (apparently Tom Hanks is also one, too). On Instagram alone, there are hundreds of accounts dedicated to documenting lonely gloves and other lost paraphernalia. There are art galleries featuring Lonely Glove exhibits.
“Vindicated” doesn’t begin to describe how I feel. Suddenly, waiting around for people to leave so I can take a selfie with a glove laying on the sidewalk feels normal. Knowing that thousands of other people share the same zeal for these gloves has justified my investment in them. And although it turns out I am a mere speck in a larger lonely glove community, I am happy to be apart of it nonetheless.