I obsess over vintage fashion, but I'm particularly drawn to the 1930s, when strong Art Deco designs chiseled their way into streamlined gowns with peekaboo backs and masculine-inspired suits were made popular by the likes of Marlene Dietrich and Kate Hepburn. Despite the gloomy cloud of the Great Depression, those with the extra wad of cash to spare lavished themselves with such decadent fashion, including jewelry sets such as this that jingled and jangled as ingenues stepped out of their roadsters or bounced down their spiral staircases.
This eye-popping matching bracelet and necklace represent the type of feminine jewelry ladies sported during the day, soft and delicate charms appropriate for teatime or department store shopping. An early Christmas gift from Matt, I was jubilant and speechless of the fact that he hunted down these rare items with not only my adoration for vintage fashion in mind, but specifically my attraction to the glamorous 30s. He discovered these trinkets at the Furniture Barn, a heart-warming antique store in Alum Bank, PA, that features throwback and refurbished furniture on the first floor while tucking away smaller items like jewelry and kitchenware on the second floor. They're the kind of beloved gift that hold more meaning than all the mass produced doo dads everyone is fussing about. The tarnished gold chain links actually provide a bit of brass appeal that fold well into contemporary times. As for the glass marbles, they're as flawless as Bette Davis's alabaster skin of the day. The flower designs are etched inside instead of outside the candy-colored beads, so not a bit of the images have been vanquished throughout the passing decades.
The roly-poly set came nestled in its original storage, a weathered and yellowed box hailing from John Horne Co, a department store in Pittsburgh that throughout time eventually got swallowed by various other dry goods giants including Lazarus, Kaufmann's and finally, Macy's. Little known fact, John Horne was actually born in Bedford County, PA, where Matt and I spent our formative years. Faint cursive writing on the front of the box reads, "Ball flower necklace and bracelet." As valuable and special as the jewelry is, the original receipt kept snug inside the box is also something worth whistling about. Our glamor puss of the 30s fetched these baubles for a total of $5.95 on April 9, 1938. Back then, that was a pretty hefty price for costume jewelry. I love how the blue lead on the tissue-soft paper still appears bold and strong after all these years.
I've been hesitant to wear my one-of-a-kind baubles, admiring them instead directly from the box or around my hands as I play coquettishly with the beads. I hope to find a 30s-inspired frock to complete the look. A roadster and spiral staircase would be grand, too!
This eye-popping matching bracelet and necklace represent the type of feminine jewelry ladies sported during the day, soft and delicate charms appropriate for teatime or department store shopping. An early Christmas gift from Matt, I was jubilant and speechless of the fact that he hunted down these rare items with not only my adoration for vintage fashion in mind, but specifically my attraction to the glamorous 30s. He discovered these trinkets at the Furniture Barn, a heart-warming antique store in Alum Bank, PA, that features throwback and refurbished furniture on the first floor while tucking away smaller items like jewelry and kitchenware on the second floor. They're the kind of beloved gift that hold more meaning than all the mass produced doo dads everyone is fussing about. The tarnished gold chain links actually provide a bit of brass appeal that fold well into contemporary times. As for the glass marbles, they're as flawless as Bette Davis's alabaster skin of the day. The flower designs are etched inside instead of outside the candy-colored beads, so not a bit of the images have been vanquished throughout the passing decades.
The roly-poly set came nestled in its original storage, a weathered and yellowed box hailing from John Horne Co, a department store in Pittsburgh that throughout time eventually got swallowed by various other dry goods giants including Lazarus, Kaufmann's and finally, Macy's. Little known fact, John Horne was actually born in Bedford County, PA, where Matt and I spent our formative years. Faint cursive writing on the front of the box reads, "Ball flower necklace and bracelet." As valuable and special as the jewelry is, the original receipt kept snug inside the box is also something worth whistling about. Our glamor puss of the 30s fetched these baubles for a total of $5.95 on April 9, 1938. Back then, that was a pretty hefty price for costume jewelry. I love how the blue lead on the tissue-soft paper still appears bold and strong after all these years.
I've been hesitant to wear my one-of-a-kind baubles, admiring them instead directly from the box or around my hands as I play coquettishly with the beads. I hope to find a 30s-inspired frock to complete the look. A roadster and spiral staircase would be grand, too!
