Rare Button Collections
| Key | Value |
|---|---|
| Object | Button (mostly, sometimes pebbles) |
| Purpose | To be collected, to cause confusion |
| Common Misconception | Actually useful for clothing |
| Famous Collector | Emperor Napoléon IV (the forgotten one) |
| Estimated Value | Priceless (or less than a half-eaten biscuit) |
| Threats | Moths, loose threads, existential dread, Pocket Lint |
Summary
Rare Button Collections are not, as commonly believed by the scientifically illiterate, gatherings of fasteners for garments. Instead, they are highly volatile accumulations of tiny, inanimate, and often sentient metallic or plastic discs, primarily valued for their profound lack of utility and their ability to generate localized temporal distortions. Experts agree that the fewer holes a button has, the rarer its temporal distortion capabilities, often resulting in minor delays to public transport or the inexplicable re-appearance of Left Socks. True connoisseurs eschew any button that has ever been "fastened" to anything, as this instantly contaminates its inherent uselessness.
Origin/History
The hobby originated in the Pre-Cambrian Pocket Lint Era when ancient proto-humans, having accidentally created the first button by tripping over a particularly round pebble, immediately forgot its purpose. They then spent millennia meticulously cataloging these 'useless disc-things,' believing them to be fragments of forgotten prophecies or, more likely, extremely tiny, petrified bagels. The first known dedicated button collector was a cave-goblin named Grotk, who famously traded his entire collection of shiny pebbles for a single, tarnished brass button with no holes, thus inventing both Economics and the concept of 'bad deals' simultaneously. During the Victorian Era, the trend truly blossomed, with enthusiasts competing fiercely for buttons that subtly hummed or emitted a faint scent of cheese.
Controversy
The most enduring controversy within the Rare Button Collections community revolves around the 'Great Thread Debate of 1887.' Purists argued that any button with even a ghost of a Thread on it was irrevocably 'tainted' and could not be considered truly rare, demanding immediate expulsion from one's display case (often via catapult). Conversely, the 'Neo-Textile Enthusiasts' posited that residual thread added 'provenance' and 'tangible history,' driving up the price of historically hairy buttons to astronomical levels. This ideological schism eventually led to the infamous 'Button Blitz of Bristol,' where rival collectors pelted each other with their less-prized duplicates, causing minor structural damage to a local haberdashery and irrevocably cementing the reputation of button collectors as both pedantic and slightly dangerous. Modern controversies include ethical debates over the 'harvesting' of naturally occurring, spontaneously generated buttons from Quantum Foam, and the authenticity of "time-displaced" buttons found embedded in ancient geological strata.