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Marvellous Memory Wire
I’ve always loved jewellery – I don’t know why, maybe I was an Egyptian princess in a former life. Not often being able to afford “real jewellery”, the costume and fashion jewellery explosions sucked me right in and gave my children a trusty gift idea for my every birthday and Christmas. So I accumulated endless amounts. However, a lot of low quality jewellery is on the market from the ethically dubious production lines of China and India, and all this began to leave a decidedly unpleasant taste in my mouth.
Style and quality
Basic jewellery-making tools are simple to use and easily obtainable from good stockists. (Rich Legg/Photos.com)
Having finally overdosed on tat and guilt, I gradually developed a taste for the style and quality of retro and vintage jewellery, so now and then collected a few treasured pieces. I grew to notice the charm of Vaseline glass beads (so called because they have the milky opaque appearance of that popular all-purpose salve) and retro pale pastel and opalescent colours as well as French jet and marcasite. I began to appreciate these hand-produced or small factory items along with all the cuts and marks and not-quite-equal facets that made them individual.
Unlike the cold anonymity of their mass-produced equivalents, they seemed to bear the mark of the human hand and the romanticism and mystery of a history that was palpable when I handled them. I would wonder who in the 1930s, ’40s, ’50s and ’60s might have worn them before me.
Glamour and elegance
I’d always admired the glamour, poise, and elegance of Hollywood stars like Greta Garbo and Audrey Hepburn, and even once bought a pewter necklace worn in one of that era’s movies. It had a certificate of authenticity and was made up in a dramatic swathe of ornate pewter roses set with garnets a la Gone with the Wind. I had it repaired once or twice over the years and fully intend to revive it again to keep up with the current and growing vintage revival.
One 1940s’ pearl necklace reminded me of a story my mother, now 93, told me about when she was young and apprenticed to a prestigious milliner in Royal Leamington Spa. She said the well-off ladies would come in to order their bespoke headwear in impeccable tailored skirt suits and all-leather made-to-measure shoes with tortoiseshell buckles. They’d be donning (strange to us now) fox furs and of course beautiful, timeless pearls. Imagine my fascination when she also said that they would often have a live, exotically coloured parrot perched on one shoulder beside their blue (yes blue), shoulder-length, demi-waved hair.
What a romantic story my mother had told me from the days before the global high street, when tailors made clothes to fit, couture was king, and the cut of a lady’s jib might still be measured by the cut of her clothes.
One 1940s’ pearl necklace reminded me of a story my mother told me
After hearing my mother’s tale, of course I quickly added (good quality fake) pearls, the ultimate in chic, to my humble collection. I found these older, better-made, less mass-produced trinkets had much more to offer, and my friends, complimenting me on a favourite marcasite brooch against a plain cardigan or a Bakelite dress clip on a tailored frock, made me see that people definitely still appreciate style.
My collection grew, but the problem is that buying 1930s–50s’ jewellery carries the risk that, after wearing the originally extremely well-constructed necklaces once too often, they can finally give out. The meticulous quality stringing, having aged, can fail at the wrong moment, say at a dinner party just as the main course is being served. As you see the beads cascade across the table onto the floor and under the unmoveable couch, you just know you might not ever get them all back and are, in any case, far too embarrassed to get on all fours to retrieve every last one.
Next page … The missing bead might be the centre front one
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