Wearable souvenirs
A few weeks ago I had a really delightful brunch with a new friend, a TCK who grew up in Cambodia - one of “my” places. We chatted easily for hours, and it was a wonderful oasis of joy. I deliberately wore a pair of earrings I bought in Cambodia, at a particular market that I’ve spent lots of time in, guessing that this person would know the place, and at least knew Phnom Penh. It left me reflecting on how meaningful jewellery is for me.
I am not big on souvenirs, in the traditional knick-knack sense. I don’t generally enjoy a collection of objects with no practical purpose other than to sit on a shelf and act as a reminder of somewhere I’ve been, or something I’ve done. That said, there IS something so nice about having a tangible reminder – a reason to think back to someone or somewhere that matters to me in some way.
A long time ago now I began to collect jewellery as souvenirs. Whenever I wear something I bought in a particular place or with a particular person, I think back to that time and place. And that makes me happy. Rather than something that sits on a shelf and becomes so a part of the furniture I hardly notice it, each piece of jewellery gets my attention when I pick it up and put it on – and I start my day thinking happy thoughts of the person or place connected to it. The result is that I end up wearing a lot of jewellery. Not all at once, but I have a large collection of earrings and necklaces in regular rotation.
A few years ago I looked up the actual definition of “souvenir” and realised that my jewellery collection qualifies quite nicely!
a usually small and relatively inexpensive article given, kept, or purchased as a reminder of a place visited, an occasion, etc.
a memory; remembrance
something that serves as a reminder
an object that recalls a certain place, occasion, or person; memento
The English word “souvenir” comes from a French word that means “remember” or the “act of remembering.” That word, in turn, comes from a Latin word, subvenire, that means to “come up” or “occur to the mind.” That’s what wearing jewellery often is for me – an act of remembering.
At the moment, in this difficult season, I find I am mostly choosing jewellery that reminds me of people, and my connections to them. The earrings I wear most are ones my husband has given me during our marriage. This is a symbol to me of our connection, even as we are forced to live on opposite sides of the world during this extended season. The two necklaces I wear most often are one from him, and a picture locket with my four Australian niece and nephews in it.
But I also love pieces that remind me of other places and people I love. Especially China and Cambodia, a particular trip, or particular people. There is a lovely pair of earrings with Chinese porcelain style beads, which remind me of not only China, but the friend who gave them, and the place we were when she gave them to me, and the love with which she chose them, knowing I was about to leave China (the first time, back in 2014, when my leaving was planned).
Another necklace I wear a lot is my “sisters necklace”. On it I have three pendants. The first is an opal-chip pendant my sister bought me in Coober Pedy while on a school trip somewhere around 1999. The second is an opal pendant my other sister gave me for my 30th birthday. The third is a silver 姐妹 – the Chinese word for “sisters”; there are three girls in my family but four 姐妹 pendants, because I have a best friend who is basically family (my Dad calls her “daughter number four”).
I also have a dangling necklace of beads and coral bought at a little boutique near the beach in San Diego on Christmas Eve 2015, while having brunch with two TCK sisters I knew from Beijing. I saw two other close Beijing friends that day (plus their kids/partners) as well as the family I was staying with. It was the end of a month-long trip for my best friend’s wedding, full of visits with dear friends I hadn’t seen in years. Every time I wear it I feel the warmth of that trip, and those people.
As a child I collected rocks and gemstones, and for years my aim was to own some malachite. I remember being 14 years old and looking at a huge chunk of malachite in the Hall of Gems and Minerals at that American Museum of Natural History in New York City (my favourite place in the museum), vowing to myself I would get some of my own one day. Now I have a full set of malachite jewellery – a bangle I bought in South Africa, earrings from Cambodia, a beaded necklace from China, a pendant and ring from Malaysia. (Those earrings are the ones I wore to meet my new friend.)
I have the strand of pearls my parents gave me on my 16th birthday.
I have a necklace a young man from my Chinese youth group brought me from a trip to South Africa.
I have earrings a young woman from youth group hand made for me.
I have necklaces bought from (and made by!) my favourite jewellery vendor at the Pearl Market in Beijing, whom I met the first week she opened and visited for years, developing a relationship with her.
I have earrings my American sister-in-law brought back for me from Italy, which are my Australian niece and nephews collective favourite - which makes me want to wear them even more!
I have jewellery given to me by dear friends – friends who moved away from me, or from whom I moved away.
I have plastic earrings my sister bought when she realised my sensitive ears wouldn’t react to them.
I have a necklace and earrings my other sister handmade for me.
I have earrings I bought in the US when I lived there as a teenager.
Every item recalls to me a person, a place, an experience.
Every now and then I wonder if people around me notice all the bright and beautiful pieces of jewellery I wear. If they ever wonder at how much I have and wear. I know this is unlikely. But I do get comments or questions sometimes, at which point I smile, and share a memory of a place, or a person.
My jewellery boxes are treasure chests of memories. The pieces I wear are not fashion accessories. At least, that’s not why I choose them. They are a tangible connection to people and places that matter to me – my souvenirs.
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An earlier version of this post, with different stories, first appeared on storiesfromtanya.com
