broken rules and mixed metals
a cacophony of silver, pearls, braided gold and teacups, even for summer
I used to think there were two kinds of people in the world: those who wore silver and those who wore gold. I grew up in the school of streamlined metals as a styling rule. You picked one, and it guided your jewelry, the hardware on your bag, the buckle on your shoe. Mixing was uncouth.
With the exception of that heart necklace, the rite of passage for a certain suburban tribe, for years, I believed I was in the gold camp. Silver was for tableware.
Gold is radiance, warmth, ease, an openness fueled by sweet naivete. When you’re young, you give yourself away. Some people never lose that, and what a gift those people are.