My mom’s mom, Grandma Marge, shaped my taste in jewelry. Specifically, bracelets—the bigger and chunkier the better. My sister is the same way. I don’t know on which chromosome the Love of Big-Ass Bracelets gene is located (the X, I’m guessing), but we inherited it. The word “bangles” to me means not an ’80s band but a shared fashion sense and good memories of being a very spoiled first grandchild.
But what I most remember about my grandma and her accessories was her jewelry hanger, a wooden row of diamonds and pegs. My family is a costume jewelry, not fine jewels, kind of crowd, but I thought that all the hanging strands of plastic beads and Avon gold- and silver-plated chains were the most glamorous thing you could ever see.
I still love those “grandma jewelry hangers.” When visiting my Aunt Darlene this past fall (Grandma Marge’s sister, who deserves her own post about how awesome she is), I sneaked in her room to snap photos of her grandma jewelry hanger, because it’s just how I remember her sister’s.
A few weeks ago, I was at a thrift store when I spotted some familiar-looking wooden pegs on a shelf.
I’ve never been so happy to spend 80 cents.
Behold! My own grandma jewelry hanger!
Okay, so it’s a little sparse, but I have another 30 years or so to really cultivate my grandma collection. Bring on the plastic beads!