Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Graphic Black and White, Episode Three

A few weekends back, the filmmaker and I joined his mother and aunt uptown for a Saturday evening meal at a cozy local favorite. With a diner-like ambiance with more refined offerings, the meal was that perfect blend of familiar comfort and decadent treat. Balancing casual and crisp, I threw on a closet favorite, my black and white vertical striped silk blouse. As the weather was delightfully cooperative that evening, seasonal appropriate, a tweed blazer was all I needed, no small boon after this past winter. Every green patch we passed during our stroll to the restaurant housed beds of red and yellow tulips. Petals opened into soft cups.

The black and white color palette has infiltrated all facets of my consumerism as of late; recent accessories acquisitions have fallen into one of the following categories: black, white, both. This pendant, in the both category, adapted easily to necklace form; I layered it atop an older black and gold beaded piece, which had actually been sent to me when I was in high school from a distant relative. Once my paternal grandparents both died, family reunions with extended members seem to only happen at funerals. During a luncheon years back, a great-aunt noticed my love for the unique, the forgotten, the bygone. A few weeks later, a small treasure chest arrived at our house; enclosed within, an array of jewelry she had not worn for years, plucked from some drawer of abandon. I, shamefully, do not really remember my conversation that afternoon with this great-aunt, what thoughts were shared, what knowledge imparted. When I wear this necklace, either alone or entangled with another piece, its own history and memories, I think of her, but in a sort of nebulous way. The moment is not concrete in my mind, but the sense of giving, of passing on, is palpable.

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