Those weird piece of skin are in fact my wrist, and the purpose of this blog post is to appreciate the sentimentality of jewellery. I don’t own very much jewellery – or at least, not that very much precious jewellery that really means a lot. I have a lot of chunky rings and so on, but the proper, delicate pieces of jewellery that I have received as gifts are few. I once asked friends what they would save if their houses were burning down, and I was a little surprised to find that most of them mentioned jewellery as one of their three items.
‘A delicate gold necklace with a tiny amethyst heart pendant’ was one of my friends responses, because her parents had given it to her when she was very young and they lived in Brazil. It meant a great deal to her because it was something her parents had chosen for her, excitedly wrapped for her, and anxiously given to her one birthday – and that unconditional love from a parent to a child, represented in this ethereal item is completely and utterly priceless. This is why I think most of my responses were jewellery and not clothes; because I can honestly say that apart from my beautiful Moschino jacket that I picked out from a vintage shop in New York for a mere £50, there isn’t any item of clothing that I would risk my life for. I would even surrender my jacket for the one item that I would most definitely save: my Alex Monroe silver butterfly necklace (that matches the bracelet above) – Bought for me about ten years ago by my Mum, and given to me with the bracelet for my eighth birthday. It has been with me through it all. Finding sanctuary round my neck, it has witnessed tears, laughter, happiness, anger and pain and means everything to me because my Mum gave it to me; it came from her heart.
Jewellery is a funny thing. It seems to be a similar story for most people: there is the jewellery that we use as accessories for certain outfits, but there is always that one special ring, bracelet, necklace or brooch that means just that little bit more. It is worn all the time, or only comes out on very special occasions and it always has a sentimental attachment that is harder to find with clothes: from a boyfriend, a lover, a parent, a grandparent, a sibling, a daughter, a great friend. The bracelet at the very top of this post, is a Jeremy Hoye charm bracelet that my best friend and travelling buddy, Lily, gave to me for my 18th. For a long time during my Gap Year, I raised money by making cupcakes and cakes for Farmer’s Markets and for people who requested them for Birthdays and Christenings and so on. I loved, and still do, baking and that is why the charm is a cupcake. It’s funny, because although you are meant to collect charms, I seem to have an affinity to keep it at just one. That one charm means so much that surrounding it by others would seem a little demeaning.