Last updated on April 1st, 2012 at 02:36 pm
Several weeks ago, fellow dreamer Heather wrote a piece about marketing her jewelry line.
She wrote: While supporting my husband at his first art exhibition and sale this past Saturday at Haus Fortuna in Petaluma, CA I remembered the Number 1 rule of a jewelry artist: Always wear your designs.
At the time I was reading her post, I wasn’t really sure how this would ever apply to me, a writer working on her first book, but I paid attention anyway.
Because Heather actually wore her work that day she was invited to place her jewelry for sale in a very lovely store. So when my graphic artist friend Nancy said she wanted to drive down to Roots, a new arts collective in Mill Valley to pitch her felted art, I asked if I could tag along.
Not only did I wear my jewelry – the RCA watch fob above – but I wrapped several hand crafted pieces in a silk scarf, dropped that in an old cigar box and tucked it under my arm. I could practically hear Heather whispering you never know.
Jewelry and me — we have history.
I was that little kid in a wet bathing suit at the block party that would ooooh and ahhhh at all the moms’ jewelry and beg to wear it if only for a moment. It didn’t really matter what kind of jewelry it was: if it was shiny or sparkly or fit over my wrist or head, I loved it. Mr. Kauffman’s tie clip became my barrette, Mrs. Albert’s charm bracelet, my crown.
I can remember asking some dad if I could wear his scientific looking watch for a minute and slipping the expando band up past my elbow nearly to my shoulder a la Cleopatra.
“She is going to bring that back, isn’t she?” the owner of the timepiece asked my dad. Knowing my dad he probably said something like — Don’t worry, if she hocks it, you’ve got 30 days.
My mother didn’t have much jewelry, certainly not anything terribly valuable and that perhaps colored my tastes.
“Listen, if anyone gets that close, slap ‘em,” my mother said so many times referring to the quality of clothes, handbags and jewelry. Plastic beads, gold fill, repurposed stuff from decades past will do, I learned.
So imagine my surprise when my friend and I received a very nice welcome from Roots co-owner Catherine Vignale, who complimented me on my necklace.
The next thing I know I’ve tagged and entrusted eight nice pieces unto her care. I even used a journalism term for my necklaces: Tagline by Rayne.
Who knows if others will share my enthusiasm for strange old bits of metal matched with Czech glass and Monopoly tokens.
In the coming weeks I will be meeting with my writing mentor and hopefully a preliminary meeting with a publishing agent.
How shall I apply what I’ve learned about putting your stuff out there to my book project meetings? I guess all I can do is have faith in myself as I lay it on the table and trust that others will respond positively. Sounds pretty simple — too bad it’s a lesson we have to learn over and over, isn’t it?
Want to know more about Roots at 84 Throckmorton Avenue in Mill Valley? Store hours are Monday through Saturday, 11 a.m. to 5 p.m.; Sunday noon to 5p.m. (ish).
Rayne Wolfe’s dream is to write her first book Confessions of an Undutiful Daughter by the end of 2011. She completed her dream journey May of 2011 on 8WD after a year living her dream. You can find her at Toxic Mom Toolkit on Facebook.
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