You feel how old this is getting, right? Same damn indecisive bitter whinywhiny thing day after day. “I have pearls! But I can’t weeeearrrrr my pearrrls.” Please. Poor us. This is exactly what I meant about the month of April. It’s 70 degrees, then it’s snowing. It’s springy damp, and then it’s icy damp. It’s sandals and legwarmers. April feels like never ever ever getting it right.
For example, Exhibit A, last night. Getting it right! It’s because of the name tags. Nothing says “grownup” and “accomplished” and “heckyeah I’m wearing (whatever)” better than preprinted name tags on business-semi-formalwear. Attire: Business. Attire: Semi-formal. Attire: Business but festive yet formal but not too TOO formal. That kind of thing.
MSU Distinguished Alumni Awards. With Maria Baxter, who graduates next month, for the third time. Maria! Your friends and fans are proud. Congratulations. And your ‘do is spectacular.
And then, Exhibit B, baggage. Shadows. Spoken or unspoken unwearableness, or at least a creepy feel to the wearing. It was maybe once right, but now it’s, like, I don’t know. It’s just not. As in Exhibit B, below, just in from Day Twenty’s guest writer Terri Ryburn:
My daughter, Amy, read the blog and realized that I had given her the pearl ring many years ago. (I should have asked her if she still had it but I gave it to her and she could have sold it or given it away by now.) She has sent a picture of it. Her comment: “Now that I know it’s a heartbreak ring, I’ll never look at it the same way.”
Oh GOD, mom, you gave me a heartbreak ring.
Right?! This is how it goes. Pearls do this. And the month of April is coming to a close and I know you’re thinking WHY HASN’T SHE FIGURED THIS OUT and I’m pleased to announce that it’s better than that. Thanks to the Pearlest Month street team, and to my guest posters, and to my husband who I don’t even know why but he’s indulged me in hella more pearl talk than a person really counts on in a given month or lifetime,
“I don’t remember this as part of our vows.”
I’ve done better than figure out how to wear them. I’ve figured out why we’re not supposed to, i.e., what it means when pearls eek you out and why it’s imperative to leave them in the box. This is not my opinion. It’s an origin myth. Or more like a folktale. The origin folktale of the unwearableness of pearls, in four parts. You can’t wait.
Tomorrow: Part one.
ann rosenquist fee 