I’ve been thinking a lot about jewelry these days. Beautiful bobbles. While I love the concept of an uber-large jaguar Cartier brooch, I wonder what I would actually do with it. Sure, you can wear it to bed. But the reason to have such fabulous jewelry is to show it off to all your friends and make your enemies jealous. But llamas really don’t care about emeralds. And goats would probably just eat sapphires.
And then you have to insure it ’cause lord knows we loose things left and right in this house. I wouldn’t put it past those kittens to hit the Crimson Star of Siberia under the GE Clearance Refrigerator in our kitchen. We’d find it years later, I’d wear it to Ruby Tuesdays, everyone would think it was fake, and then it would be put away. And a kitten would find it again.
To all you lovelies out there interested in buying me something beautiful, I’m in love with Cartier these days. Tiffany’s has become too mainstream. There are too many wedding cakes and fantasy tablescapes on Pinterest in Tiffany “blue.” There are too many sorority girls at second tier state schools wearing Tiffany bangle bracelets, clinking carefree against their Coach purses. I don’t mean to hate, but when your shop starts popping up in high-end luxury malls across this great nation, you’ve become a little mainstream for my tastes. Cartier, Harry Winston, take me away. No one on the red carpet says their wearing Tiffany earrings, Paloma Picasso collection.
But I digress. I just want beautiful things. Just like everyone else. I could care less about electronics. I hate Precious Moments. I do like art. And antiques. And jewelry. And wine. While these have nothing to do with the bed and breakfast, or anything with the farm, sometimes you need to think further afield then the pasture outside your door. Maybe even to the emerald fields of Madagascar. Or the asphalt of 5th Avenue.