I recently cleaned out the whooping mess that is my jewelry stash.
More like accessories stash.
I think both my grandmothers would cringe at what makes up my concept of “jewelry.” I have to credit my friend Andleeb for unleashing the monster of reckless abandon when it comes to things to wear on your person. Thanks to this lack of restriction, each time I look at boxes of psychedelic chunkiness, I feel a certain…. fulfillment?
But of late, my appreciation for jewelry has evolved by going a little… backwards.
Perhaps its a hormonal thing, after having crossed the late-20’s (ok, more like the 31) threshold, thereby craving the presence of something “real.” That polished delicacy of diamond, the sanctifying presence of gold, and all-in-all the constant presence of a few, signature pieces of real jewelry that somehow lend you an all-at-once grown up feeling.
Especially in this part of the world.
I can never completely turn into a “diamond aunty” though. Even though I want to sometimes. The allure of being attached to just one piece, it seems illusive and a thing forgotten. (I went through phases like this through my teens, and I sometimes look back enviously at myself as someone with the air of not trying to0 hard but just enjoying that one adornment).
As a result, I’ve learned, finally, not to stress about what compartment which type of jewelry should go into. But to savour them all instead. I think it’s finally paying off, because my recent post-holiday spirit has made me celebrate everything, including clothes I forgot I had and never wore, and as an extension, of course, accessories. In scrounging around hurriedly for a golden accessory for a wedding outfit, I started going through a trundled up stash of what my mom loved to refer to as “costume jewelry.”
Her definitive left overs from the ’80’s.
I’ve been through them a hundred times as a kid. They were way too outlandish to be taken seriously in the oh-so-understated ’90’s. But thanks to this post-millenium whatever-goes sense of style (which i sometimes secretly think is a sign of the apocalypse), I’ve started looking on them as some serious loot.
They really are quite flashy and ornate, but it’s that grown up, old-worldly sense of ornateness that’s started to intrigue me. I’m even thinking of looking into the whole brooch phenomenon.
(It was this thinking that actually let me buy myself a red, ruffly(!) thing this summer].
Of course as always there are no rules or conditions. It’s what feels right when.