Jewelry I Miss and Sentimental Items
Multi-strand bone and brown beaded necklace. My mom got this for me one Christmas in college. I was notorious for returning gifts, so it was a rare occurrence that I actually loved something I didn't pick out myself. It was special to have something she picked out for me, and I loved the bohemian, beachy style of the piece.
Sparkly aqua gem dangly earrings. I bought these in Germany on our first trip there. I got them at a department store one day out on my own. They were delicate but colorful, and gave a flattering little sparkle to my face.
Tiny beaded bracelets. My uncle who I rarely see got me these when he came to my senior voice recital. They were white, pink, and maybe a little lavender and gold. Stretchy and simple, and great to stack with other bracelets.
Seahorse necklace. This was a pendant necklace I got at the same vintage shop where I found my combat boots in high school. It was red and green jeweled and had an awesome segmented design so the seahorse was made of several pieces that could undulate freely.
Tassel necklace. Yet another vintage piece from that shop in high school (it was called Bee-bop-a-loo-la), this was a pendant necklace with a chain mail tassel. I loved that it was vintage but definitely edgy.
Computer glasses. These were protective yellow-lens glasses with black frames for blocking blue computer light. I'd wear them around while I was working at the Cape, imagining they looked like real glasses. I don't wear glasses, but sometimes I wish I did.
These items all have sentimental value, something I am known to ignore when decluttering my belongings. I've often offended people with my brutal disregard for sentiment, but I do own a large file drawer of mementos, which I always feel is enough. But looking back at these tiny jewelry items which take up little space, I'm questioning whether I've been too brutal. As a minimalist, I've usually erred on the side of clearing things out. But as someone with a terrible memory in general, I definitely have some regrets from getting rid of sentimental items. Sometimes objects are just more potent, more capable of bringing me back to a time and place, than photos or my constantly failing memory. I don't know why my memory is so bad. Is it all the psychiatric drugs? Or is it my tendency to view anything in the past as negative, so I block things out? As time passes, I reflect on times I've deemed simply awful, and see them in a nostalgic and even positive light. Maybe I need to rethink my attitude towards sentimental items, or at least leave a window of time before getting rid of them. Then again, I rarely, if ever, look through my drawer of sentimental things. But I do like knowing they're there. There are even a couple pieces of jewelry that I've relegated to the sentimental drawer. I no longer wear them, but I hang onto them anyway.
Single heart-shaped silver earring. This is half of a pair of earrings that were given to me by my fifth-grade boyfriend. Need I say more?
Silver-plated triple-band ring. My best friend in sixth grade gave this to me, and it did have quite a renaissance for a while when I lived in New York. I was much thinner then, so it fit. The silver is chipping off, which just adds charm.
Silver chain necklace with turquoise jeweled charms. I got this in high school at Kohl's. It's really unique, made by a faux-vintage brand, and I always got compliments when I wore it. I wore it to a lot of auditions, so I can't bear to look at it as of late, so it went into the drawer.
I think a big part of the reason I don't look through my sentimental items is that I always imagined myself as being much more successful at this point in my life. The idea was that I'd be rich and famous when I finally went through the drawer to reminisce about when I was young and a nobody. But still being a nobody, it just doesn't seem like it's time yet. I keep thinking, I'm almost there, just a few more years of paying my dues and then I'll be on top. But that time never came, and I'm trying my best to let go of that fantasy. Twenty years is a long time to keep paying dues with very little return. I recently asked my husband, "Do you think I'll ever sing again?" "Of course," he answered without missing a beat. But I don't know. In one of my unmedicated rages last summer, I literally tore through all my scores, every binder of opera arias and roles, carefully organized on a shelf in the living room. I ripped them apart, binder and all, with my bare hands while my husband and mother contemplated taking me to the hospital. But I haven't looked back. I haven't let myself regret that fit of rage and despair. I earned it with uncounted hours of practice and devotion and performing 8 shows a week for not enough pay. It was justified. And I need some time to pass before I can even consider returning to it. I need time to recover.
To see my current jewelry collection, click here.
