A few days ago we visited a Christmas antiques market in the brisk and bright sun of St. Tropez.
A very sophisticated and refined aunty Thérèse - whom I admire tremendously and who in her youth studied "les beaux-arts" at the Louvre - visited the antique fair with me. She knew the story and background of every object at the market. I hung onto every word of hers, trying to learn and capture every detail.
One of these years, I too will know something...
At this point, I only know what I like. That is these 1920's earrings created from deep burgundy garnets, marcasites and old silver. Beautifullll.... And even though Thérèse can spot a fake from a scary distance, she accepted my find :) :) :) .
We had such a lovely time. Thérèse kindly admired my taste and passion for all items worn and vintage, and I enjoyed her knowledge and expertise. Her talent, although a source of great fun, didn't make us very popular amongst the antique market people... Thérèse was able to blow the whistle on too many hustlers there...
Still, I managed to find another pair of antique earrings to treasure:
These silver, crystal and marcasite darlings Thérèse declared unique, from the 1920's as well.
Victory!
(Although, I would have bought them even if they were brand new...)
The last piece of advice from Thérèse was that these earrings should be worn with a little black dress, when going out for something special.
Promptly, I took them out yesterday, to Monaco. We went to see a modern rendition of the Swan Lake at the Grimaldi Forum with some friends. The tickets were a very thoughtful Christmas gift that I received, but.... Looking around I realized that Monaco truly isn't a place for vintage. It's for everything new, shiny, expensive, big brand names kinda place.
Me and my little treasures, my earrings and a 60's vintage handbag borrowed from Mamie, were totally out of place amongst all the gliterrati.
Nevermind, I decided.
Elegance is an Attitude.
Right?
~*♥*~
When I first saw this handmade, hand painted beauty in the dusty corner of an antique shop, I knew she belonged with me. And home she came immediately, even though I had to negotiate, twist & turn and practically beg to come up with the money for it.
And again, we ate oatmeal for a month...
But every time I look at it, I feel the sun of Provence.
~*♥*~