I have a problem.
I am a magpie.
Not in the charming, metaphorical sense. I mean I have an actual inability to walk past something shiny without thinking, I could make something out of that.
It doesn't even have to be jewellery. A vintage button? Interesting. A handful of old beads in a charity shop? Off to the till.
A broken necklace that everyone else has clearly decided is destined for the bin? Potential. Something glittery, colourful, slightly odd or completely unnecessary? Well, obviously I need it.
My husband has watched this happen for years. He now mostly rolls his eyes. I don't think he even bothers asking what I'm going to make with whatever strange collection of shiny objects I've brought home. There is an understanding between us.
I buy the shiny things. He rolls his eyes. I make something from them. And then I go and buy more shiny things. This is not a cycle. This is a lifestyle.
I don't see things the way normal people do
The problem is that once you start making jewellery, you develop a slightly warped way of looking at the world. Most people see an old necklace. I see a chain that could be dismantled.
Most people see a box of mismatched beads. I see possibilities.
Most people see something that's slightly dated. I think, Give me ten minutes.
And charity shops are particularly dangerous. I can go in with absolutely no intention of buying anything. I'm only having a look. And then I'll spot something. Something completely ridiculous. Something that doesn't even remotely look like jewellery. And my brain immediately starts working out how I could turn it into jewellery.
This is how I have ended up with drawers, boxes and containers full of things that I am definitely going to use one day. Some of them have been waiting patiently for their big moment for quite some time.
The stash
I have a stash. Obviously I have a stash. Actually, calling it the stash makes it sound considerably more organised and than it is. And now that I think of it, it makes it sound considerably more exciting than it is.
There are beads. Vintage pieces. Buttons. Broken jewellery. Lots of broken jewellery. Old pendants. Bits and pieces I've rescued because I liked the colour. Things I've bought because they were unusual. Things I've bought because they were cheap. Things I've bought because they were shiny. And, occasionally, things that I have absolutely no idea why I bought.
But I will.
Eventually.
Probably.
This is the thing about making one-of-a-kind jewellery. You can't always go looking for exactly what you need. Sometimes the thing you need has to find you. And sometimes you buy something because you love it, put it away, forget about it and then six months later pull it out and think:
Oh. That's it.
And suddenly you know exactly what it needs to become.
The slightly ridiculous bit
There is, of course, a flaw in this system. You might think that if I make something from my stash, the stash gets smaller. It does not. Because now there is a space where that shiny thing used to be. Which obviously needs filling. So I buy another shiny thing.
The problem with being a magpie is that making something from your stash doesn't actually reduce the stash. It creates a vacancy.
And that, ladies, gentlemen and fellow magpies, is how we end up here. Again.
But actually, I quite like the madness
Because this is also why I love making jewellery. I don't want everything to look as though it came off the same production line. I like the odd stuff. The unexpected combinations. The old things given a new life. The piece that makes you stop and think, Where on earth did they find that?
Quite often, I don't know myself when I start. I'll have an idea. I'll find something else. I'll move things around. I'll take something apart. I'll change my mind. I'll find another piece. And eventually, somehow, there it is. A necklace or a pair of earrings that didn't exist when I sat down.
And that's the bit I never get tired of.
So yes, my husband may continue to roll his eyes when another bag of beads, vintage jewellery or miscellaneous shiny nonsense comes through the door. And yes, I may continue to insist that I absolutely needed it.
Because I did.
Probably.
And if I didn't need it then, I'll definitely need it eventually.
That's how being a magpie works. You don't really get cured. You simply make jewellery until the next shiny thing catches your eye.
And then you're off again.
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