Grey mittens on a ship are bad luck, as undertakers wore them (Nova Scotia folklore)

Setting: A cozy kitchen in Halifax, Nova Scotia. It’s early December. Snow falls gently outside as Amara makes coffee. Liam walks in, shaking snow off his boots, holding a pair of grey mittens.

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Liam: (grinning) Guess what I found in the clearance bin at Canadian Tire—grey wool mittens! Five bucks. Cozy as a Newfie hug.

Amara: (eyes widening) Liam, no! You can’t wear those on a boat!

Liam: Uh… why not? Are they cursed by Poseidon himself?

Amara: Grey mittens are bad luck on ships! Everyone in Nova Scotia knows that. Undertakers used to wear grey mittens, and sailors believed it meant death was coming.

Liam: (laughing) So you think these mittens are gonna summon the Grim Reaper the moment I step on a dock?

Amara: It’s not a joke! My grandfather swore by that. Said he once saw a fishing crew lose half their haul—and one guy broke his leg—all because a deckhand wore grey mittens.

Liam: Sounds like a bad day and a clumsy crew, not ghost gloves.

Amara: You weren’t raised here, Liam. Out on the Atlantic, people respect the old ways. Superstitions come from experience. The sea doesn’t care about your logic.

Liam: Okay, fair, the sea is terrifying. But hear me out. Maybe someone did wear grey mittens and bad things happened—but correlation isn’t causation. That’s like blaming a seagull for your fishing line snapping.

Amara: But it’s not just one story! There are tons—whole generations avoided grey mittens. You think they all got it wrong?

Liam: Well… ancient people thought eclipses were sky monsters eating the sun. Tons of them believed that too. Doesn’t mean it’s true.

Amara: Still… why risk it? Wear literally any other colour! You don’t see me bringing bananas on a boat, do you?

Liam: That one I’ve heard. Something about bananas spoiling the fish or slipping on the deck?

Amara: It’s real. You don’t joke with the sea gods.

Liam: I promise, if Poseidon smites me over mittens, I’ll buy him a fleece-lined offering. But superstitions can hold us back, Amara. Imagine if we never questioned them. We’d still think lightning is Zeus bowling.

Amara: Some superstitions do keep people safe. Like not whistling on a ship—it can mask distress calls or make you forget you’re working with knives.

Liam: Exactly! Those have practical reasons. But mittens? That’s textile profiling.

Amara: (laughs) Fine, Professor Logic. Wear your cursed mittens. But don’t call me when the fog rolls in and you hear phantom bells.

Liam: If I do, I’ll name the ghost after you. “Amara the Misty.”

Amara: Just don’t expect me to throw you a life ring if the boat tips. I’ll be busy knitting you new mittens—with red yarn and good vibes.

Liam: Deal. But only if they come with a no-haunting guarantee.