Christmas, some years back:
“I hope you
like it,” my sister said, “even though it’s probably just a box of crap”.
Practically every time I visit my
husband’s grandmother:
“Take it,
honey. It’s just crap nobody wants.”
Today:
I boldly
confess that I will, indeed, take all of your crap, but only if the crap in
question is a box of vintage costume jewelry.
That’s what I received in the above scenarios, and that’s what I like –
old accessories with a story to them.
Granted, I don’t know the story behind every piece I’ve acquired over
the years. Much of my collection comes
from garage sales, thrift stores, and a wonderful clothing swap party that my
friend Marian hosts from time to time (http://www.marianbell.com/).
This past
weekend’s swap party proved highly successful for me. Not only did I score enough clothing to keep
me out of the stores this summer, I met a wonderful woman named Monica who
specializes in my favorite pastime.
Monica’s jewelry
was not up for swapping, however. She
sells it on behalf of others. Her clientele
includes folks who’ve lost Grandma and would like for Grandma’s jewelry to go
to a good home. They also include people
who are simply downsizing their jewelry boxes.
Old pieces. Interesting
pieces. Pieces full of personality. Pieces you just don’t find anymore.
I had my eye
on this:
And on this:
Knowing that
old costume accessories can sell for a pretty penny, I hesitantly asked her
price. I almost fell over –in a good
way- when she told me.
“I’m not
really looking to make money here. I just
want to find people who’ll be good to these items. I merely need a little to cover gas to these sorts
of events and such.”
I handed her
the cash, and as she wrapped them lovingly and placed them in a bag, she
informed me that the necklace and the bracelet were owned by the same
woman. “Her name was Laura,” Monica
said, “would you like to know more about her?”
“Indeed I
would!” I proclaimed as I sat down at her table.
“I actually
knew Laura quite well. She passed away a
couple of months ago, and I miss her.
She was like a grandmother to me.”
“How so?” I asked.
“We used to
do tequila shots together.”
Now, I don’t
know about you, dear reader, but I never did tequila shots with either of my
grandmothers. Nonetheless, Laura sounded
like my kind of gal. In addition to her
affinity for tequila, Laura was also a school teacher (I was, too, and totally
get her need to imbibe from time to time), she tended to favor books over
people on occassion (me, too), and knew how to play the ukulele.
“You’re
kidding!” I cried, “I’m learning to play
the ukulele!”
“I think
Laura had a hand in you finding her things,” smiled Monica.
I agreed and
took my leave of her, Laura’s jewelry secured in my purse.
That
evening, as I put the pieces away in my jewelry box, I took a good look at what
I’ve got. Someday, when I’m too old to
fasten a necklace or simply too worn out to care, I’m going to start passing
this stuff along. Many of those on the
receiving end may view it as crap, but hopefully others will fancy it,
particularly if they know the story that will go along with it.
