Generally, I am a failure at accessorizing. I have a few bracelets--some are vintage lucite remakes from Anomaly in Jacksonville, where I've been getting the all my cutest clothes from Emily since I was 16. I have a perfect two-of-a-kind necklace I spent way too much money on in Covent Garden last summer. I usually wear the same necklace for weeks, through showers and all, and change up my earrings (a collection I am most proud of).
Today was special. I knew that I had to have something exciting to go with my semi-boring, yet unusually bright, blue v-neck.
The necklace was a Christmas gift from 2008--it's a gold oil drum (I know that because it says "oil" on it) that had a rhinestone in it for a while. It's one of the boldest necklaces I own (is that sad?) and the giver said "It's for smart people," which is certainly flattering. The earrings are from a short-lived arts fair in Jacksonville, but I'm sure something similar (they are, after all, only little glass dangles) can be found at the Riverside Arts Market, every Saturday of the month, under the Fuller Warren Bridge. [Side note: Because I am Southern, up until very recently I thought the correct pronunciation was "Fullahwar'n."] The ring was a 13th birthday gift from my mama--so far, I'm the only woman in my family who has been able to hold on to hers for this long--one of the many ways in which I am not them.
Although not an accessory, my hands are one of my favorite things about myself. On the return flight from France a few years ago, a great English teacher tapped me on the head from the seat behind me to let me know that "Megan, you have the most elegant hands."
From the Bastille to Trump Tower?
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