I am a creature of habit: I’ve been getting my hair cut by the same person for 17 years, and from various photos, I notice the actual style hasn’t changed for the same amount of time. I keep my doctors till they retire, some boyfriends, long past our expiration date, and have loved all shades of purple since I was six. I have long time friendships, perhaps older than some of my new friend’s ages and I don’t give up on family easily. But I wouldn’t describe this as being set in my ways or myself as someone who can not move forward– I prefer to think of it more of an appreciation of continuity, rather than an aversion to change.
So when I see that certain symbols in jewelry are continuous in their lifespan, sometimes going out and coming back into style and other times taking on different meanings, it makes me happy, especially if they represent longevity and enduring friendship or love. I am not talking about the smiley face or any other symbols that have to do with the seventies, a particular time period in which my mother was rebelling and borrowed my jewelry and….bell bottom jeans…and looked better in them than me.
I get excited when jewelry has sentiment and significance attached to it–a story to be told –and I usually prefer if it’s not spelled out in words but shows up more discretely in a motif or a silhouette. And, I appreciate it even more when the piece is anything but basic, representing history yet evoking the original sensibility of the designer creating it.
The circle, for example has been an endless source of inspiration for jewelry designers, showing up in more variations than I can count, reflecting permanence and a symbol that cannot be broken
One of my personal favorites, which I’ve kept in my jewelry wardrobe but continues to sell and should not be missed is Alberian & Aulde’s delicate 3-D Gaia pendant with vitreous glass enameling and tiny diamonds and sapphires. Each time I wear it, I discover another detail about it, some element that I didn’t notice the first time, that surprises and delights me, much like the way I’d like relationships to go and grow.
When I am feeling a bit more nostalgic, I reach for John Apel’s pendant that reminds me of an antique eternity band like the one my dad gave my mom, and that I have worn for years. It’s a geometric pattern of marquis and round shaped rose cut diamonds in platinum and is understated and discrete in its beauty.
In the last year, I started being attracted to Celtic-inspired infinity motifs again. The first time one was ever purchased for me was by an Irish lad from Dublin, who I was seeing in my late ’20s and who explained that “it stood for our eternal love,” which all would have been grand, if he wasn’t engaged to someone else. For years I shelved the pendant– and that motif–not only because of my personal experience (although that weighed heavily) but because many of the interpretations weren’t very interesting to the fine jewelry lover, when re-created in oxidized Mexican silver.
But, last September, I saw Damiani’s Victorian version, an entwined knot of pavé diamonds, made with the Italian traditional of craftsmanship–and fell for this newer translation, sort of in the way I moved on from soulful lilts to the curled vowels of a Milanese man.
True to my heart, my feminine tastes and my affinity for all things enduring, I found Penny Preville’s diamond Infinity pendant makes a great self purchase item (for me), a meaningful gift for friends, and a thoughtful bridal party present.
Change is always good if it moves you forward, but it’s always nice to find comfort in the things around you that continue to endure.
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