Yesterday, Tamera got me thinking about jewelry. Not so much the whole drawer of goods, but the stuff you wear so often it hits a bedside dish overnight if it comes off at all. Most of what I wear daily I took off late in pregnancy, which felt approximately like walking around with teeth missing.
Beyond internet memes, it’s rare to see someone’s collection laid out: it tends to evoke a whole personality from a dish and is disconcerting to see inanimate. Repetition turns out to be a powerful thing.
- My wedding ring. We found it at the Alameda Antique Fair the morning after Bill proposed– one of the first I tried on. That would seem unusually expeditious, except we also bought one of the first houses we looked at and one of the first dogs we met at the pound. We tend, it seems, to be so much in love the idea of the thing that we see it in everything we look at.
- My Lee Hale rose thorn earrings. A gift from Bill, after he saw me wear these every day for a year and a half.
- A little rosey gold ring that belonged to Bill’s great grandmother, similar to this one. It’s as thin as paper around the bottom, and I adore it.
- A trio of Fay Andrada peaked bangles. They run small enough to become a semipermanent installation when my hands swell in the heat. The fact that I don’t mind this at all should be taken as a sincere compliment to the artist.
And not every day, but close:
- I have a collection of vintage rhinestone bangles that I wear reliably in turn. Lucite and rhinestone clamper bracelets by Weiss are my favorites– the the internet’s ever rotating selection makes me wonder if my single needs to become a stack.
- New, but very much loved: a little filagreed pendant circa 1910ish, given to me this mothers’ day. It’s set with the tiniest blue-grey pearls I’ve ever seen.
- This shouldn’t count because I rarely wear a watch, but when I do I wear my great grandmother’s. There’s an odd intimacy in realizing you’re standing close enough to someone to hear their watch tick. I don’t wear perfume, but wonder if a good little watch isn’t the auditory equivalent. I listen to Bill’s tick on his bedside table at night.