The story of a necklace

---Sorry, friends, it's been too long. I devoted all my extra writing time the past few weeks to get some pieces ready for the Capitol Hill Art Walk.---

As suggested throughout this blog, I have a love for the stories behind jewelry; whether those stories wrap around events I experienced myself or the memories entwined of vintage pieces. I love the continuous vein jewelry retains and whether we know that story or not, I find it still bears witness on the piece in some form.



My mother gave me a necklace a few months back that she never wears anymore. This particular mother-of-pearl pendant was a staple in her jewelry box for most of my childhood. When originally purchased, the round pendant gleamed with the reflective metallics of the mother-of-pearl shell. Etched and painted on each side are two Asian inspired designs-- palm fronds and a lily pad on one side, and a bird on the other. Now almost completely worn away, the designs are only seen when tilting the piece in the sun and following the etched grooves. The dainty gold chain from which the disc hangs is slightly tarnished but still holds the heavy pendant firmly.

My mother bought this piece in 1976.

I always connect this particular piece with Hallmark Cards. My mother worked there for forty years and something about the gold chain is reminiscent of the Hallmark gold crown emblem. I grew up with the crown-- it stood for stability in my family because Hallmark Cards employed my mother throughout her entire work career before retiring in 2004, so, likely, this is the only business I connect to her. I remember visiting the huge Hallmark offices on McGee Street in Kansas City on Bring Your Daugther to Work Day. Eating lunch in the Crown Room and taking extra time to play around in one of downtown Kansas City's shopping spots, Crown Center. And yes, in case you are wondering, my hometown of Kansas City is actually a city... See some great skyline photos here.

The glow of Union Station at night with the skyline in the background

Hallmark headquarters at night

During those days, I remember sitting in my mother's office in Purchasing and seeing her drawers full of files that she worked with daily. Even at six- or seven-years-old, when I was writing two page "novels" in her office while she worked, I viewed my mother as someone to admire. She was on the phone-- taking off her clip earring each time to answer calls-- and speaking with vendors across the country, placing orders and making connections. The gleam of the gold pendant chain reflected off of a gold crown shaped paperclip holder she had on her desk. She played with this mother-of-pearl pendant and dangled it between her fingers as she talked to a vendor somewhere in Florida. Side note: Florida?? It seemed so magical and far away when I was that age. Who knew the allure of Mickey Mouse was the only magical and wonderful thing about living in Florida (oh yes, I lived in Florida for about two years before moving to Seattle). But I digress...

I sat in her office, writing my "novels" or sometimes participating in small projects like stapling orders together (which to an eight-year-old my small project was a big deal), and I thought these things, even in my elementary-aged mind; thinking that I wanted to do that someday. I wanted to be somebody.

Today, my mother sticks to sterling silver and is most fond of turquoise pieces. She likes chunky; and a bold, vibrant turquoise piece will always catch her eye while shopping. My mother purchased the pendant from Halls Department store around 1976. She thought that eventually she would turn the pendant into a pin, but as jewelry tastes changed, and as the piece aged, so did its place in the jewelry box. The once staple, hid in the back for years, until resurrected.

The cyclical nature of jewelry sustains the tale: as my mother's story with the piece grew to a close, my tastes evolved at the right time to welcome it and start a new chapter.

And the story of the necklace continues...