I admit it. I’m addicted to beads – I love the way they roll between my fingers. I love their glassy shapes – sometimes smooth, sometimes rough, but always interesting. Most of all, I love the sparkle. When a bead has sparkle I just have to have it – I must make it mine! The beads that are “ghost beads” meaning they have a white iridescent coating over the colored bead are one of my favorites. Not everyone carries these treasures, so the ghost beads are a true ghost in the bead retail market. Oh, I could go on and on. Face it – I just love beads.
I can distinctly remember my first attraction to beads. I was around five years old and my family lived in an old farm house in Iowa. For some reason unknown to me, we had a room filled with old clothes. In this room was a dress that vintage clothing dealers would kill for today. It was a strapless with a form fitting waist and a full skirt made out of the most glorious sky blue taffeta. Best of all were the rhinestones that decorated the bodice. It was as if a sultan had decreed that this dress were to be for his bride! There were rhinestones in every color of the rainbow and in every shape channel set in a sweeping fashion across one side of the bodice. It was very ornate yet perfect in every way.
Wearing that dress I was no longer a pudgy farm girl. That dress transformed me into Cinderella, a bride, a movie star, a wealthy debutante, and anyone else I wanted to be at the moment. I didn’t always wear the dress. Sometimes I just stroked it. The day I learned I couldn’t go to Karen R’s birthday party because I didn’t have a ride was one of those days. My mother had even bought a cheap gift for me to take to the event and allowed me to keep it since I couldn’t go to the party, but I didn’t care about that. I instead sat in that room full of old clothes and stroked my beautiful dress and cried. Stroking my dress calmed me, and once my tears were dry I donned my gown and pretended I did go to the party afterall, and look what an entrance I made!
I wasn’t allowed to take that dress with me when we moved from that house simply because our new home was so very, very small and our belongings had to be kept to a bare minimum. I doubt my mother saw the value of this dress to a child my age, and under our circumstances, she was probably right.
My poor husband, however, must now pay for the trauma of my not being able to keep my favorite toy. We have tried to come to some understandings. For example, at the first of the year every online retailer had a big, big sale. My dearest one’s antennae go up at the mere mention of the word “clearance” (we have often joked that had we had a son we would have named him Clarence knowing that we REALLY meant clearance), so when I explained that if I stocked up now I wouldn’t need any more beads for a long, long time…
Sigh. It hasn’t worked. More sales beckon. And new beads twinkle at me. I must have them! Even if I make them into gifts for other people, I must feel them in my hand, I must make them into something, and I must create something as beautiful as that blue dress…
Or at least try.
I think the only way to make this a win-win situation is to see if there is any way I can buy stock in some of these bead stores.
In the meantime, expect to see articles from me that explain how to budget your funds when buying beads. Just remember, do as I say, not as I do.
