El ala aleve del leve abanico

Photo: Frank Vervial

A day not unlike today some time ago I made an unforgiveable mistake. For some obscure reason I felt it was really horrible, so much so that I still remember it clearly. It was hot and sunny and abanicos were out, lots of them, men and women, swirling and whirling the suffocating air. That wonderful alliteration by Rubén Darío […] bajo el ala aleve del leve abanico […] came to my mind. I always thought that it explained perfectly the meaning of the Spanish fan and I eagerly offered such piece of information to an unguarded, foreign listener –a stranger no doubt here to learn Spanish -who's panicked expression clearly asked   “why is this crazy woman picking me as a target?”. And I went on, oh, yes, a great poet born in this land, blah, blah, blah, and then I had to say it…Miguel Hernández…boom. The damage was inflicted. Wrong author. “Arrogant jerk” I thought to myself later on, “you (me) deserve it for trying to be so smart”. At least I guessed the correct homeland of the wrongly cited poet.

The use of the exotic fan came from the Far East, although it was co-opted by ancient western civilizations such as Egypt (remember Elizabeth Taylor’s Cleopatra feather-blown by sculptural slaves), Greece (ripis) and Rome (flabellum). It was made of lotus leaves or peacock feathers tied to an embellished long handle. During the Middle Ages it was still employed but was made of parchment sheets with precious metal, ebony and/or ivory handles. It wasn’t until the end of the XVI century that the folding fan appeared, brought again from China through the newly opened commercial routes. It was first used by the upper classes, which had them made from vellum, fine lace, precious gems and mirrors.  Sometimes even painted by first-class artists, the fan became popular in the XVIII and XIX.

Spain was one of the main producers of abanicos, competing with Italy and France, to the point of founding the Real Fábrica de Abanicos  (Royal Factory of Fans) in Valencia in the XVIII century. With it, women developed a complete body language of its display - hand gestures, eye play, arm, hip and bust positioning…hence the perfect aleve (perfidious) adjective of our poem.

Dust off the fans in the closet and join the game, there is one for every moment! My favorites are the ones that make that wonderful “chas-chas” when opened and closed, which I could do a thousand times without tiring. How about those giant ones worn by the Spanish summer band Locomía back in the mid eighties? (Quality of the video as bad as the band, but you get the idea)

  

In closing and for the record I stand corrected and offer my most humble apologies to that unsuspecting traveler. I hope you found your Spanish voice, and profoundly desire that you have encountered a more erudite teacher than I!