I Love Plastic

Let's hear it for acrylic jewlery. When it's expensive, it's called lucite or resin, when it's not, it's called plastic. It's almost impossible to break; it's clear unless you want it to be; it comes in every color and shape imaginable; it's reasonably priced. In Almodovar's latest film Volver, one character lovingly displays her lost mother's fantastic plastic jewlery collection, circa 1970s, boxed and organized as though by a jeweler.

I have been a fan of acrylic beads since seeing a By Boe necklace on a mother at my son's pre-school, now several years ago. Three window-pane-like beads swung from a short chain lariat on a gold chain--quartz? raw diamonds? aquamarine? They sparkled enticingly. I asked about the stones, and she said they were resin, and it was a costume piece, but so many people loved it, and she'd worn it around Spain to nothing but compliments, and she should get more.

But she would not tell me where she bought the necklace.

And though my son moved on to his big kid school, I kept on looking for one similar, a veritable necklace detective. It was not at local street fairs; it was not in local jewelry stores, or even in more distant ones. At one local street fair, I fortuitously met my friend Melissa O'Brien, a wonderful artisan (www.islandartstudio.com). At the fair we attempted a clumsy version of the necklace in silver with fluorite beads. Then, some months later, a chance visit to my local day spa resulted in--The Necklace. Exact as I had wanted, with 3 fluted, slightly gray, acrylic beads that hung in the same elegant way as the necklace I'd first seen and coveted, from the same chain (gold-filled).

I was in love. I wore the necklace everywhere, all the time, despite a previous history of jewlery snobbery--only real gold and stones, usually handmade, always unusual, often from Europe. I treasured this $23 costume piece the way I did my Tahitian pearls. It went with me to the Academy. And somewhere in that backwater either a hotel maid is happily wearing it now, or, thanks to my husband, it is sitting in a landfill in the eastern United States. It simply disappeared from my room. I searched on hands and knees, looked in trash cans and in pockets. It simply vanished from my room.

When I came back from the Academy, one of my first stops was the same spa. Where they had only 1 not-as-nice but similar piece with acrylic white moons, and the information that the label was By Boe, in New York.

I called By Boe the next business day. To be told by a snooty voice that the necklace was "last season", and the beads were "one of a kind" and they simply could not help me. Which in my opinion was crap.

By cannibalizing several Christmas ornaments (raising eyebrows as I brought home bags of Christmas ornaments), I found similar acrylic beads. More came from internet perusal, as did a similar By Boe necklace from Ebay. And Melissa and I, dissecting the By Boe hanging distances for the 3 bead cascade, put together a number of pieces inspired by The Necklace, with solid gold chains. Enough for holiday presents, and enough to assuage the loss of The Necklace...though I still dream of finding it in a forgotten pocket or suitcase.

I went to Melissa's recent trunk show, and she showed (and sold me) several pieces inspired by my (it is now my) design. I bought a piece with a heavy stick-style chain and clear quartz with a streak of pure gold running through them (gold stone?). I also had her make up a gorgeous Iolite choker for me. The ghost of a design as given birth to a whole new generation of jewlery. Though by now, I am waiting for the next generation of inspiration, finally feeling the "last season" blues.

I'm as inspired by the acrylic beads as I am by jewels. Which I find very inspiring. But more on that later.

After reading The Dream Life of Sukanov, one of the best novels of the century, in my opinion, I fell in love with the idea of the elusive wife's "clanking...turquoise bracelets." Imagining that in Soviet Russia, there were no hard bracelets made of true turquoise (as even basic shell was considered extravagant, I know this because a Russian sold me an overpriced silver and abalone choker at a flea market), I began imagining rows of bracelets in bakelite or lucite, in a wonderful bright aqua. Which I found (opaque lucite ones), being on assignment in Chico, in a funky vintage-esque Chico boutique whose name escapes me. And which are noticed and admired by almost everyone who sees them lining my arms. They are thick, solid, indestructable, meant to last decades. The clanking of my turquoise bracelets is indeed very comforting.

Lately, I love clear accessories. They look so pure, clean, intruiging...solid water, solid air. Clear plastic has many of the qualities that attract people to diamonds. And so the plastic collection grew yesterday, with 2 thick diamond-faceted bangles and 2 clear bangles that are almost imperceptably wavy in shape like Mondrian figures, meant to fit together like bodies. They catch the light and reflect back the skin underneath.

I'm thinking of bright orange bangles, or a necklace, but that seems like too much of a leap, too Miami, but in a bad way, a crazy aunt's castoffs. Plastic must be done with elegance.