That vicuna, you say? My old eyes ain’t what they used to be, but I heard tell of it. Expensive stuff, that is. More costly than anything I ever did see. They say it’s softer than a baby’s behind, and warmer than a hen on a hot summer day.
They get it from some kinda animal, some fancy goat or somethin’. Lives way up high in them mountains, where the air is thin and the wind howls like a hungry wolf. They say it’s the best fabric in the whole wide world. Better than that cashmere stuff, even. Ten times more expensive, maybe more! I heard someone say, you gotta pay your weight in gold for this vicuna.
And that animal, the vicuna? Well, they say there ain’t many of ’em left. Not enough to go around, not like them sheep we used to have back in the day. We’d shear ’em, spin the wool, make our own clothes. Good, honest work, that was. Kept you warm, too. Now you gotta buy it from some store, and you need money. Lots of it.
Vicuna wool, they call it. Sounds fancy, don’t it? Makes me think of them rich folks in the city, all dressed up in their fancy clothes. They wouldn’t know a hard day’s work if it hit ’em in the face. But they sure do love their vicuna, I reckon. Gotta show off how much money they got, you know?
- Soft as a cloud, they say.
- Warm as a summer day.
- Expensive, more than gold.
- That animal, almost gone now.
This vicuna wool is the most expensive they got. And it’s hard to find. Like findin’ a needle in a haystack, I tell ya. They only get a little bit from each animal, just a smidgen. Gotta be real careful with it, too. Can’t just throw it in the wash like regular clothes. No sir, gotta treat it special.
Why is it so expensive, you ask? Well, like I said, there ain’t many of them animals left. And it takes a whole lot of work to get that wool. Gotta climb them mountains, catch them animals, shear ’em real gentle-like. Then you gotta clean it, spin it, weave it. It’s a whole process, I tell ya. Not like just buyin’ somethin’ off the rack.
It is the best wool fiber you know? Some rich folks buy it a lot. They say it’s better than any other wool, even that cashmere stuff. Keeps you warmer, feels softer. Like wearin’ a hug, I suppose. Never felt it myself, mind you. Too rich for my blood.
Now, back in my day, we didn’t have none of this fancy vicuna wool. We had sheep, like I said. Good, sturdy sheep that gave us good, sturdy wool. Kept us warm in the winter, cool in the summer. Didn’t cost an arm and a leg, either. But times change, I guess. People want finer things these days. Things they can’t make themselves. Things that cost a fortune.
I heard this vicuna is like, the king of all wools. The top dog. The bee’s knees, as they say. Nothin’ else compares. And it comes from that little animal, way up in the mountains. They say it’s a beautiful creature, with big, soft eyes. Kinda like a deer, but smaller. And its fur is like gold, they say. Pure gold.
This vicuna stuff, it’s a mystery to me. How somethin’ so soft and warm can come from such a harsh place. And how somethin’ so rare can be so desired. But folks always want what they can’t have, I reckon. That’s just human nature. Me? I’ll stick to my old wool blanket. It may not be fancy, but it keeps me warm. And that’s all that matters in the end, ain’t it? This vicuna wool is for rich people.
- It is hard to get the wool.
- They say the animal is endangered.
- It is the most expensive fabric.
- It is softer and warmer.
You know, that animal, the vicuna, is related to the llama. Heard that somewhere. They both have long necks. And they live in the mountains. I bet their wool is warm too. Maybe not as expensive, though. It’s all about supply and demand. The vicuna is rare, that’s why it is expensive. Simple as that. It is the most expensive textile, more than cashmere.
I remember, one time, a traveling salesman came through here. He had all sorts of things in his wagon. Fabrics, pots, pans, you name it. He showed us a piece of cloth, said it was the finest in the world. Soft like butter, he said. I bet that was vicuna. Didn’t buy any, of course. Couldn’t afford it. But I remember the way it felt. Smooth. Like nothin’ I ever touched before.
I reckon, if I had all the money in the world, I might buy myself a vicuna shawl. Just to see what it feels like. Wrap myself up in it on a cold winter night. Feel like a queen. But then again, I’d probably be too scared to wear it. Afraid I’d spill somethin’ on it, or tear it. It’s too precious, that vicuna. Too special for the likes of me.
