L-R: Small 14K Gold Diamond Huggie, Tiny 14K Gold Diamond Huggie, Large 14K Rose Gold Safety Pin, Small 14K Rose Gold Seamless Hoop Earring
I should’ve been more excited about the gold and diamond huggies—I was, and still am; they’re the first of fine jewelry I’ve independently purchased—but the reality is that the pièce de résistance, the motivation behind this deliciously decadent and impulsive purchase, was the complimentary gift with purchase: a cream-colored jewelry box. Not just any kind, though, but a music box covered in rainbow symbols and lined in pink velvet. One with a ballerina in relevé that slowly twirled until it needed a generous wind again. Something I wanted as a child who loved fairy tales as much as she loved secrets, to keep the things I collected and treasured so dearly. Little stones. Vintage buttons. Jewelry I made and pieces I plucked from my mother’s collection.
A box I wished for and loved to have, but was knew was too foolish to ask for.
I find that all my purchases as an adult, aside from the practical stuff— gas, kombucha, Veganized brunches and post-practice lunches, fill the gaps of my childhood longings. (It’s important to me that I make clear that my parents gave me everything and more; I was always a girl who loved things but felt impossible guilt for wanting.Practicality was instilled in me at a young age, and therefore I so rarely asked my immigrant parents for frivolities.) Just a few weeks ago I bought a Murakami Doraemon plush toy, for Christ’s sake. Anyone in the reselling sphere will appreciate my swift click-to-purchase of a now sold-out, limited edition collaboration sure to gain value in a few month’s time. (Or in this case, it only took a matter of days for this very plushie to pop up on eBay at a 50% markup.) It’s profitable desirability. This I knew, but I bought Doraemon with zero intention of flipping it. I purchased him in earnest because I loved, devoured, the Chinese-dubbed-Japanese series as a kid—and I, the ever nostalgia-mourning millennial, wanted a piece of memorabilia that captured blissful, innocent youth.
In that same vein, I bought a new The Last Line earrings just for the music box. To remember the girl that was—and is—inside.
. . .
xx
Your turn. Thoughts?