We end at the beginning: The Mittens

When I started my blog, I talked about the very first pin I remember from my toddlerhood, a delicate pair of tiny hand-knitted mittens that my mother wore on her winter coat.  While I was visiting my mother this past summer, I mentioned my little brooch project and my original inspiration.  My mother collects very little jewelry; her lifetime acquisitions are held in a tiny jewelry box more suited for a child.  But she seemed to think she might still have this one item, though she had not worn it for decades.  We went to look, and there, in perfect condition, was the precious little "brooch" I remembered.

I suspect that the high quality of this knitting, including the wee thumbs and the miniature black contrasting dots and trim would be unimaginable in a modern product.  This is literally from the late 1940s.  Now I have to persuade my mother to start wearing it again!  And to let me inherit it!

This brings my little blog to an end.  It was kind of you to follow along, and I certainly had fun doing something I would never have come up with on my own.

The Dragonfly

This is my latest acquisition.  It is in the style, again, of the Art Nouveau movement, but it is new.  It is by one of the designers in the David Howell company and supports the American Craft Museum.  It is solid brass electroplated with silver and then enameled.  Apparently the dragonfly was a recurring motif on most of the Art Nouveau craft forms, from porcelain to accessories.  I got this at the Fred Jones Museum of Art in Norman.

This nice little pin gives a lovely burst of color to nearly anything, and it has various degrees of luminosity depending on how the light hits it.  I particularly like to wear it with clothes that are gray.  I have it here on a charcoal belted wool sweater.

The Amethyst Stickpin

This is another old pin, age uncertain but from someone's estate and in the Art Nouveau style. It has a very deeply colored round amethyst in the center, with four rhinestones along the body.  I'm not sure what metal is used.  It is very finely wrought with tiny beading along the edges and larger beads on the surface.  I got it at A Haggle of Vendors, that sublimely named store in Grand Junction (with my collector sister urging me on).

Because this pin is so clearly from another era, I like to put it on a forties-style hat.  (I am mad for 40s fashion, including shirtwaist house dresses with cap sleeves and platform shoes, and certainly wool coats and fedora and cloche hats.)  So I have it here on the crown of a taupe wool shaped hat.  It is placed on a sculpture of a woman's head, done years ago by another sister.  I use this head sculpture, which is next to my fireplace, to hold my hats.  I hope it's not too disrespectful.

The Amber Lobster

This amusing brooch is in the shape of a lobster, made of silver with big amber cabochons for the body segments and eyes.  It was given to me a few years ago by a student, who wished to remain anonymous.  It came with this handwritten note:  "Here we are trapped in the amber of the moment.  There is no why."  -- Kurt Vonnegut.

But the student didn't remember that I see handwriting throughout their academic careers and can't help but remember particular styles.  Plus, only certain students are going to wax philosophical.  So I successfully guessed her identity, and she eventually acknowledged it.  I can't help but think that the quote was a reference to those that I hang on my office door each semester.

Even though the brooch is fairly big, it doesn't overwhelm.  I have it here on one of my winter coats.

The Scissor-tailed Flycatcher

This is a typical member of my collection:  a sterling silver bird, this one a scissor-tailed flycatcher, Oklahoma's state bird.  The impressive features of this pin are the wide and nicely articulated wingspan and the long, long tail feathers.   I got it at the gift shop at the Sam Noble Oklahoma Museum of Natural History.  Plenty of others shop there as well; for the first time, I saw another woman wearing a copy of a piece of jewelry I own.  I sucked it up.

This pin is fun and easy to wear because it's catchy but not too fussy or too heavy. I have it here on a very old (ain't sayin' how old) copen blue velvet jacket by Givenchy (who's probably dead by now).  Notice how the tail feathers reach past the edge of the lapel.

The Stained Glass Butterfly

This is a very special brooch, a delicate piece of metalwork and stained glass.  The butterfly's head and body are made of glass beads, and the legs and antennae of wire.  It's not easy to capture how beautifully the tiny glass panes capture the light.  My husband gave this to me as an anniversary present.  I'm sure he got it at the Fred Jones Art Museum gift shop (the one I recommended!).  He wasn't able to keep from telling me that "it cost a lot of money."  (NB:  This is why I was right to marry him instead of the one who re-gifted a brooch he'd picked up in Japan.)

This brooch is both big and delicate, so I wear it when I don't think I'll be smashing into things or having to wear a coat on top of it.  One of my favorite ways to wear it is on this Ralph Lauren velvet jacket, in an Edwardian style.

The Llama

Another of my many animal pins.  This one is a llama, made of cast pewter.  It has a nice piece of carnelian set into it to depict a blanket.  The pewter is literally cast with the gemstone embedded in it.  It is from Peru, but the artist is unknown.  Like many of my pins and brooches, I got it at a museum store -- the Fred Jones Museum of Art at the University of Oklahoma.  (Check this one out:  they get good stuff in all the time.)  One reason I like this pin is because I visited Peru many years ago and had brought back several different llama items -- the locals know that tourists are mad for llamas.  I like the profound simplicity of the design, especially its right angles.

This pin is easy to wear, demure and the right size for many outfits.  Here it is on a little turquoise short-sleeved cardigan.

The Art Nouveau Brooch

This lovely piece, if not actually from the 1920s, is several decades old and part of some deceased woman's estate.  It is cast brass with copen blue and green cloisonne inserts, interspersed with a number of small blue-green tourmalines around the edge, with a single one in the center, surrounded by rhinestones.  I got this at A Haggle of Vendors (now THERE'S a name for a resale store!), in Grand Junction, Colorado.  My sister, who loves unearthing a forgotten treasure, frequents the place, if not actually haunting it.  (She says, "I sometimes watch Hoarders to keep myself grounded.")  I like this brooch for its departure from my animal bent (in brooches, not behavior).

This brooch is actually quite versatile, since it is such an iconic example of what we think of when we pronounce the word `brooch'.   I have it here on a Ralph Lauren blazer.

The Catfish

This large brooch was made for me as a birthday gift by my friend Deborah Kaspari, the artist.  She specializes in animals, particularly birds, and does painting, drawing, sculpture, and even, as a bit of fun, metalcasting.  This is cast from her own design in the shape of a catfish swimming in swirls of water and pond plants.  It has a little blue glass bead in the filigree at the top.  I feel very lucky to have my own personal one-of-a-kind brooch, especially from someone as skilled (and busy) as Debby.

This brooch is both large and showy, and so needs something substantial to pin it on.  Here I have it on a red dress and jacket outfit.  Just as a little note, Debby has been invited to do a portrait of Gloria Steinem when she visits here next month, and I will attend that event as her guest, probably in this outfit.

The Seahorse

This is a large, glamorous brooch that has a closed bar in back rather than a pin, so one can put it on fine silk scarves without worry.  It is of a cast silvery metal (but not silver) and paved with multicolored crystals and cabochons.  It is from the Painted Door in Oklahoma City, a kitschy gift store that seems to specialize in way over-the-top accessories.  I am not a regular shopper there, but happened to go there with a friend from rural Texas who rarely has any fun at all and was clamoring to do anything not immediately connected with livestock. 

I wear this when I am feeling powerful enough to literally carry it, since it's quite heavy.  Here it is with a finely pleated, block-striped silk scarf from the New York Museum of Modern Art.  The whole look is quite dramatic.

The Orphan

This large angular brooch is made of, I believe, tin with a welded-on brass insert.  It has some raised filigree.  It was actually "dumped" on me, which is why I call it the orphan.  An acquaintance who accumulated lots of random stuff and then regularly got rid of it simply didn't want her brooch any more.  Frankly, I didn't either, but she pressed it on me, and it's not like it was a having to take home a puppy...  The rectilinear aspect and the welded parts are not my taste in jewelry, but it's also my nature to take in strays and make the best of it. 

This brooch is rather hard to wear because of its size, and also because of its lack of cleverness.  I have it here at the throat of a front-zipped chenille sweater.

The Antelope

This sterling antelope is a favorite of mine.  I like the extreme abstraction (a bit like the copper horse) and the heavily textured body, with primitive motifs.  On the back are the initials IHMSS (for Indian Handmade Sterling Silver) and the outline of a butte with the letter E in it.  I wish I had paid more attention to the artist when I bought it -- this seems to have been a bad habit of mine.  I would love to be a supporter of individual artists, and that can only happen when one bothers to find out their names!  I am pretty sure I bought this in a museum store; this is my new favorite venue for handcrafted jewelry (and much else).

This pin is easy to wear, since it's silver, not too big, not too small, and not too funky.  Here it is on a (perhaps) retro velvet gingham vest.

The Amber Stickpin

This is a pewter stickpin set with a nice oval cabochon of amber.  I believe it is a reproduction of a Victorian piece, with all the sinewy metalwork.  My daughter gave it to me, knowing of my love of pins (you remember that she doesn't wear jewelry herself).  So I don't have any knowledge of its provenance (maybe it really is from an antique store somewhere!).

This is an easy piece to wear, but I have put it permanently on an alpaca dress coat.  That way I know where it is, and I don't have one more thing to think about when getting dressed.  But I have a taupe fedora that I might be bold enough to try it with one day.

The Spider

This silver and malachite brooch is a favorite.  I got it at a sale at the old natural history museum at the U. of Oklahoma before they tore it down and made the colossal structure that stands now.  (By the way, in the basement of the old building were all those phenomenal dinosaur bones that are now proudly on display, and were, I swear, forgotten for decades.)  The brooch really is a bit creepy, the way the legs are all splayed out.  When I bought it, the young woman, a little diva who should have been selling clothes at Forever 21, shrieked and said she couldn't touch the brooch because she was too afraid of spiders.  Oh for godssake!  So I had to take it out of the case and wrap it up myself.

This brooch goes with a lot of different jackets.  It gets a lot of looks, though most people are too polite to actually comment on it.  Here it is on a wool and cashmere jacket from -- where else -- Harold's, and cut in a style that's a bit out of date.  Most of my looks are retro at this point, by default.

The Sculpeys

Quite a few years ago a new kind of polymer clay was developed and caught fire among the world's children.  It was originally sold as Sculpey, and my five-year-old son was one of the first great artists in this medium.  The advantages of Sculpey over Play-Doh were that the many colors could be permanently blended, and the clay did not harden unless baked (at 250 degrees).  (The disadvantage was that it didn't smell delicious the way Play-Doh did.)  My son made many Sculpey articles, among them jewelry for his mother.  One of the designs that my son was enamored of was the calico cat.  His version always had green eyes ("green like mine," he'd say).  This example is notable for the details such as little sculpted claws, a curved tail, outsized ears, and of course the prominent green eyes.  I was able to glue a standard pin assembly on the back.

The little rose was made to be worn on a ribbon as a choker.  My son scotch-taped a piece of hem binding to the rose.  I find this original assembly to be too adorable to change, so I just keep it as a memento.

I enjoy wearing the cat brooch as if it were fine jewelry, essentially daring anyone to comment.  Here it is on a collarless olive-brown jacket.

The Cow

This whimsical little painted cow comes from a shop in Santa Fe I stopped in while on a family vacation.  I really like the colors:  pastel pink and blue, and especially the idea of bold painted clouds on a blue sky over a deep pink field.  I would have never thought to do this; no other animal pin I have, no matter how creative or abstract, comes close to this level of artistic cleverness.  When I bought this,  I also bought a pin for my daughter in the same style, but a coyote.  I came to realize over the years that she really doesn't like jewelry:  I never saw her wear the pin, and strongly suspect she got rid of it at the first opportunity.

Because of its overwhelming cuteness, it takes a bit of daring to wear this pin.  I often wear it when I teach, because after a long day being lectured at, those students need a bit of humor.  Here it is on a nubby light-gray heather boxy jacket.

The Lizard Brooch

This large brooch in the design of a lizard is made of sterling silver with inset stones of lapiz, turquoise, and jet.  I bought it at the Red Earth festival in Oklahoma City quite a few years ago.  At that time lizards were popular with the Navajo silversmiths, and I was able to choose from the wares of two or three of them.  I have to say the price was very reasonable!  (Always buy your jewelry from the maker if at all possible.)  I like this one because its face, with the big eyes, is properly menacing.  I also like the stylized limbs with the vertical etching.  The brooch has a ring in the back as well as a pin, so one can wear it as a pendant.  But it really is too big for a pendant; it flops around in a very unattractive way.  It can be oriented in any direction, so one can make the lizard appear to be crawling across the body up, down, or sideways.

This brooch is very dramatic and needs a good dark plain background to show to advantage.  I like to wear it with this navy wool jacket.  Here I have it crawling downward.

The Horse

This is a hammered copper pin of a horse, very abstract.  It has a glaze that gives it multicolored speckles and keeps it from oxidizing.  I bought this while on a trip to visit friends in Tumacacori, Arizona, a small mission south of Tucson.  You may know that right near is the village of Tubac, something of an arts community.  My friends were friends with a young woman and her husband, both O'odham/Hispanic who lived and worked there.  The woman was a metalworker.  She made this pin, and let me buy it.  I think it was then that I began to realize that I really liked pins made in the likeness of animals.  A large fraction of my pins and brooches are animals, including mammals, birds, insects, reptiles, and sealife.

I like to wear this pin against a black background.  Here it is on a short black bomber-style jacket.

The Cameo

This is a cameo that I found in an antique store in Pt. Jefferson, NY.  This is a tourist town on the ferry line on Long Island Sound that joins Long Island with Connecticut.  The town is about as cute as you would expect.  The cameo is beautifully carved with a lighter color shell on the left and darker on the right.  It has crystals set in the filigree silver setting.

This cameo is a long-sought replacement of one that was given to me by my first husband before we were married.  Unfortunately, I lost that one in one of the many burglaries I suffered while living in Tucson.  (I'm sorry to say that the property crime rate in that city is very high.)  The original cameo was a bit fancier:  the woman was wearing a cameo herself with a tiny crystal in it.  Sigh.  But this one is lovely and I choose to imagine that it's the same one.

This brooch needs to be worn at the neck, either pinned to the top of the neckline or on a ribbon tied around the neck, in a truly old-fashioned style.  I used to wear it that way but now don't have the courage.  Here it is on a silk shirt (also very old, from Harold's.  I have a lot of clothes from Harold's and was distraught when it closed.  Now that Talbot's is also gone I don't know how I'm going to dress myself.)

The Dogwood Pin

This demure little pin is made of sterling silver and shaped to look like a dogwood flower.  I got it as part of my catalog mania (see previous posts).  I bought this soon after I moved to Long Island from Tucson.  The most amazing thing -- truly -- about the change was the number and variety and type of plants that grow in a moist, temperate climate in contrast to those that survive the ninth ring of Hell.  In our front yard were a walnut tree, various conifers, and a delicate little tree with perfect little four-petaled flowers in mid-spring.  A dogwood.  Ours had pink flowers.  I loved to go outside and look up through the branches so that the sunlight would shine through the petals, making them the most translucent and ethereal color.

Probably because I lived at least in the neighborhood of New England, I began to receive a catalog called The Vermont Country Store.  Well, you don't know that I was born in St. Johnsbury, Vermont -- how could I resist?  The offerings were all stuff you'd need for your sugarwoods and your dairy barn, photographed in black and white, or only described in print.  But once, they offered for sale this little pin.  At a very reasonable price, of course.  Vermonters, and all.

Here is the pin on the lapel of a 40's-style house dress, just like my grandmere Maria Perron used to wear.

The Roadrunner

This is a tiny roadrunner made of pewter with a turquoise eye and little turquoise stones that mark its path.  It's the kind of cutesy thing found in any tourist-centered gift shop in Arizona.  It was a gift to me when I left Arizona to move to New York.  My best friend where I worked gave me this and a little handle-less cup inscribed Tucson along with the admonishment that I shouldn't forget her.

This pin is surprisingly difficult to wear.  First of all, it's so small that it disappears into most clothes.  And then, its cartoon-like design makes it appropriate for only casual wear.  One pretty much needs to get really close to figure out what all the bumps are about.

Here is the roadrunner pin on a little summer sweater.

The Aynsley China Brooch

This is a large brooch made of bone china from the old English company Aynsley.  It is done in classic blue and white with a pheasant, and peonies and chrysanthemums (my guess).  It is enclosed in a brass filigree ring.  This brooch only works, I think, at the throat, or maybe a bit further down, but always in the body's center. 

There was a time when I loved to order things from catalogs.  The more I ordered, the more catalogs I received.  This is one of my scores.  (Sadly, I began to score less and less and now do very little catalog shopping.)  I don't think Aynsley makes this kind of thing anymore; they are seriously into little tea services with stunning floral scenes.

This brooch is quite heavy and needs a good firm garment to hold it.  Here it is on a linen shirt with front shirring.

The Japanese Brooch

This is a take on the classic circle brooch.  It has broken lines with some brushed silver and asymmetrically placed pearls.

This was a gift to me from a man I used to date in Tucson.  He traveled frequently to Japan and brought me this after one such trip.  The remarkable thing about it is the speech he used at its presentation.  He said that it was given to him by a businessman in one of the obligatory gift exchanges that Japanese do.  He said it wasn't in his taste, but he was giving it to me.  Think about the semantics of this:  Was he saying he hoped I'd never wear it?  Or maybe, that I should feel free to re-gift it at any time?  Or that I was someone who should feel grateful for anything that got tossed my way?  Because the only feeling associated with the gift was negative, I have never loved wearing it.

But over time, I have learned to appreciate it for its very neutral color, its classic style, and the fact that it's so big.  It's good to wear with dresses with plunging necklines.  I can put it at the low point to keep the neckline from getting into mischief.

Here I have it on a flapper-style dress with a beaded low-cut bodice.

The quetzal

This is one of the first pins I acquired, at age 19, when I lived in Tucson.  It is in the shape of a quetzal, made of beaten silver.  It's from Guatemala, from the days before all fine crafts were obliterated in the civil war -- not earlier than the mid-60s.  It was a casual gift from Sybil Ellinwood, one of the grande dames of Tucson society in the 50's and 60s.  She was the best friend of my first mother-in-law.  They were of the last generation of women who entered into property marriages with the second generation sons of the men who first developed southern Arizona, then descended into dissipation and lost all the family money.  Sybil was a sharp-tongued alcoholic who should have been born 50 years later.  I was terrified of her, because she made fun of everything I said and did.  I couldn't have known that I would become who I am, and I look back at her as a tiny, sad woman who enjoyed feeling superior to a youngster out of her depth.

This pin fell off me one day, and landed on the sidewalk.  I knew it was surely lost, and was shocked when several hours later, I stumbled upon it again.  I knew then it was a little survivor, like me.

Here is a picture of it holding together the bodice of a linen wrap dress.

As a child

The first pin I remember  (I was perhaps 3 years old) was on my mother's green wool coat.  It was a knitted pair of tiny mittens, and they dangled cutely.  I liked the idea of having jewelry for clothes as well as for bodies.

The first pin I bought was at age 7 for my mother.  I can't remember where I found it, but it cost ten cents, which was precisely how much money I had.  There was only one at that price.  It was literally in the shape of a window in a house, with a potted violet on the sill.  The pin seemed to be made of stainless steel of some sort, and the flower was plastic.  I slapped down my dime and proudly wrapped it up.  My mother looked at the pin, and made some kind of noise, but was rather less excited about it than I had hoped.  I never saw her wear it, but once I put it on one of her coats as a service to her.

I'm sure the pin was truly hideous, but it was made in the era of chrome and formica "dinette sets" and Melmac dinnerware in assorted colors.  The height of American kitsch. I wish I had it now.

Here I go!

My student Corry mentioned that he'd like for me to start a blog about my brooches (and pins).   In it I should show them (there are 23) and give their backstory.  It's for him to say why he would find this the least bit interesting.  For some reason, I did not dismiss this, and instead made a quick and rash decision to just do it.

I will assume that Corry alone is reading this blog, but who knows what sorts of people might tune in?  No turning back now.  In my next post, I will start with a photograph of one of my brooches and talk about it.