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Girl Time: Desperately Seeking Women in the Watch World

It was my first time in Switzerland. We had taken a day trip over to the country from Lago di Como, which was the beginning leg of our sixteen-day stint across Northern Italy.

I knew my then-boyfriend wasn’t a “watch guy” but he agreed to go with me into what I remember to be a nineteenth-century clock and watch shop. It was old, and dark, and so goddamned cool. It smelled of wood and mold, having been on the shoreline of Lake Lugano for deity knows just how long.

We walked around as several suspicious Swiss eyes followed us. Ah, the Swiss. I believe that the term, “meh,” was likely coined somewhere in that country. So neutral. So indifferent. But so, SO, serious about their timepieces.

And then, it happened to him. I had no doubt it would. I had been working in the watch and jewelry industry for about five years at that point and I remember the first time it happened to me.

(Cue flashback filter a la 1980’s television sitcom)

“That’s a Vacheron Constantin” she said.

“I’m sorry, it’s a whattie-what-whattateen?” I replied.

“A VASH-ER-OHN CON-STAN-TEEN” she giggled. “My lord, woman. I need to get you around rich people more often.”

I was a lower-middle-class Italian gal from South Philly. Vagabond Florentines weren’t exactly in my repertoire. But I was working for LAGOS at the time and had gotten in tight with the watch buyer at Govberg Jewelers in Philadelphia. And if there was one place you bought your high-end watches from if you lived in or anywhere around Philly, it was Govberg.

This was not a woman’s watch I was looking at. It appeared to be about 38mm in diameter. Maybe it was smaller, but I didn’t have my gauge on me. It was heavy, and beautiful, and man, it felt expensive.

“Girl, I’m telling you, you need to learn more about watches. It’s an entirely different world than what you’re used to in jewelry.”

(Cue flashforward filter a la 1980’s television sitcom)

“My lord, what is it?” he whispered to me.

“It’s a watch,” I assholishly replied.

(Now rolling his eyes.) “I know it’s a watch, but what kind of watch? I don’t recognize the model.” he said.

“It’s a Jaeger-Le….”

Watch Women

#WOMW – What’s On My Wrist, or rather, has been on it in the past.

THAT is a Jaeger-LeCoultre” remarked Swissy McSnootiestein, descending from his very chocolate-colored, meticulously made wooden throne. “Are you familiar with Jaeger-LeCoultre?” he said, very much not to me, but rather directly to the handsome man standing on my left.

The Aries inside of me couldn’t help its vehement self.

“He isn’t, but I am, a little,” I stated. “I know that the company was started in the 1830’s as ‘LeCoultre & Cie’ and that at some point in the 1930’s the company was renamed after the Jaeger guy – a French Naval officer I believe – joined forces with them and they created the world’s thinnest movement. I know that there was a big connection to Cartier for a while, too, but there was a period of about fifty years where they didn’t go by the complete name… until the eighties, maybe? Am I right?”

Swissy held my stare for about five seconds. Not impressed, (sky is blue/Pope is Catholic/yada yada) he turned back to Todd and proceeded to school him on the importance of this particular timepiece.

Sir, this is a very special watch. You should try it on. It is a magnificent piece: the Jaeger-LeCoultre Geophysic in Rose Gold, 18K. Now, it is water resistant to fifty meters, and it is a little over 41mm in diameter which would be a perfect size for you since you’re such a tall man and I am a small, poor excuse for a human being who is incredibly meeker than you. (Okay, he didn’t really say that last line but in my mind he did.) It has a sapphire crystal, and the strap is made of crocodile. It’s a fine timepiece. You may not find this in your American watch shops.”

Todd looked at him and nodded in approval, and even though he and I had only been dating a brief while at the time, I knew that what he actually heard Swissy say was this: “Mr. American man, this watch is expensive. It sells for more than the down payment on the house that you will eventually buy with that overly-confident woman to your right. Let me repeat: it’s really, REALLY expensive. It costs more than your car, your wardrobe, and all of your electronics, combined. You are not worthy of this watch. I don’t even know why I’m showing it to you. I think I’m only letting you see it because I want for you to feel like less of a man. That will make me happy since you’re much younger and more attractive than I am. Yes. That’s right. Look at this watch that you will never afford. And believe me, if I were French, I’d have sex with your girlfriend, too. But since I am Swiss, I really don’t care to. I don’t care about much, actually. Did I mention I am Swiss?”

“Sure. I’d love to try it on” Todd said.

I knew where he was going with this.

One of the things that attracted my (eventual) husband and me to one another is that we’re damned good under pressure, both of us. If put on the spot, especially by someone in the service industry, all we need to do is give one another “the look”… It’s sort of a “do you want this one or shall I take it?” look, and on this day, we both decided we’d go in together.

“I like it, I’m just not sure I like how the strap feels.”

“Which do you think you like better? This one or the Vacheron we saw up the road? Or maybe even that Audemars?!”

“Oh, I loved that Vacheron. I mean, that was absolute perfection and fit my wrist exquisitely. But I don’t want you spending that much on me. This one seems like it is fairly less expensive.”

I could see Swissy turning the background color of his national flag, but before he could jump in I said, “Don’t be silly, babe. I can tell you don’t love it. Come on, let’s go get the other one. (Turning to Swiss Mister) “Thank you ever so much for your time. Maybe we’ll stop in when we’re back next year before heading to Monaco.” And off we went to buy our imaginary Vacheron with our imaginary tens of thousands of dollars.

What I took away from that experience was, a) Never date the Swiss and, b) No matter how much I showed I knew about watches, it was still my male partner whom the male salesperson kept in his sights. And now, more than twelve years after that initial run-in, I’ve decided to delve into the question many before me have pondered but few have publicly asked:

Why is the watch world still mostly a man’s world?

Let’s start by factually backing up the statement that the watch industry is largely a sausage fest (or in the case of the Napolean complex guys, a Vienna sausage fest) with a look at the average watch consumer: the buyer, collector, and wearer. What do the majority of the aforementioned have in common other than their love of timepieces? Well, for one, they likely have money to spend.

Women of Watches

The four watch women in my #fiftywomenofjewelry InstaSeries.

A 2014 report by Lisa Keister at Duke University’s Department of Sociology showed that just under 98% of the country’s top 1% of earners were male. Women only make up 11% of Fortune 500 CFO’s, and we all know about that magic 79% wage gap number, now, don’t we? Yet while women have for years been accused of being shopaholics (and rightfully so) the tide is shifting when it comes to luxury items. In 2013, for the first time in China, their male population outspent the females when it came to buying luxury goods, spending 52% more than women spent on watches, according to an article posted on MarketingtoChina.com. And if numbers and facts make your head hurt (I’ll refrain from inserting Donald Trump jokes here, but I know you know what I mean) you needn’t look much further than any middle-aged-man-with-a-love-for-mechanical-things’ Instagram feed to see how many dudes really cherish them some wrist clocks. (Raise your hand if you love colloquialism!)

Let’s experiment a little, shall we? Let’s head on over to the ‘gram, right now, together. Click your search icon, and key in, “#WOMW.” Now, GO.

At the time I wrote this paragraph, 372,084 Instagram posts popped up with that hashtag. I had to scroll through sixty-nine posts of watches on the wrists of men before I got to the @ferniezap (Fernanda Zapata) image of her wrist wearing a Martenero New York watch to accompany her uber-cute black-and-white fall sweater. That averages out to under a 1.5% ratio in case you were wondering. And in making the previous statement I made about Fernanda’s clothing, I’m also posing an additional sub-question: are women just more interested in things other than timepieces?

I write mostly about jewelry, and people in the jewelry industry. For the record, this is only the second post I’ve written solely about watches and the watch industry since I started this blog in August of 2013. But it isn’t because I didn’t care about watches or didn’t want to talk about watches. I frequent the popular watch blogs, follow all of the major watch websites, and stalk read most of the famous/infamous watch editors. But even amongst them, female faces are few. Roberta Naas – the founder/editor-in-chief of ATimelyPerspective.com – was the first female watch editor in the U.S. market, and is still largely the only female face I see in pictures that include groups of watch editors scaling glaciers in Greenland, dogsledding across Alaska, paragliding while blindfolded, or jumping off of sixty-foot cliffs on behalf of Breguet, Bremont, and others. But, WHY? It can’t be because women don’t like adventure. I, for one, love adventure. When Gandalf went looking for Bilbo, he was originally looking for Barbara Palumbo (if you say it really quickly it sounds a lot like “Bilbo,” trust me. But you have to say it, like, super-fast, while drinking scotch.) So why are there not more Robertas out there? Or more Hyla Bauers? Or even Cara Barretts? And what about the prominent positions within the major watch companies? See many women in those? Off of the top of my head I can recall Mercedes Abramo of Cartier North America, Aletta Stas-Bax of Frédérique Constant, and Stacie Orloff of Bell & Ross, but how many more exist? Out of the eighteen North American brand presidents at Richemont, seventeen of them are men. One woman. Una. That’s it. Again, though… why?

WJA AFE

With Michelle Peranteau of Baume et Mercier, nominee at the 2015 WJA Awards for Excellence in the watch category. Photo by Bart Gorin.

The answer could partially be this: watches are machines, and machines require engineers, and well, there’s a huge gender gap there, too. According to Joanne McGrath Cohoon, an associate professor in the Department of Science, Technology, and Society at the University of Virginia, only about 18-20% of engineering students were women as of 2012. And while that figure is up drastically from the early 1980’s when fewer than 6% of engineering students were women, this fact could also shed some light as to why there are far fewer women than men who are interested in watches and watch careers.

The cold, hard truth is that the gender disparity in STEM (science, technology, engineering, and math) jobs is widely known and has been researched, greatly. There are many who claim that a lack of female engineering role models is largely to blame for more women not pursuing careers in that field, but in that respect the same could be said for the science (or is it, art?) of horology. Although, hell, why not change it up from a retailer level, too? Ever walk into a brick and mortar store that sold both fine jewelry as well as fine timepieces? If the answer is no, then here’s another experiment for you… do so, and first ask to speak to their David Yurman specialist. Once you’re finished speaking with HER, ask to see their Rolex specialist, then tell me how the conversation went with HIM. It’s not an exact science, but you get what I’m saying, here. The industry could and should do more to allow women the opportunities that their male counterparts have had for years. And to not wag fingers at men only, more women should insist that they are interested in something substantial in terms of inner workings and complications rather than being content with having to be the staff member who shows the customer how pretty a sterling silver piece looks from the outside once it’s completed.

I would love to say that having more women in the watch field is a work in progress, even if I don’t see that work happening on a day-to-day basis. But, I’m also not at the watch shows, nor do I attend Basel, nor do I jump out of airplanes with the crew from Breitling. Not that I wouldn’t, mind you (pssst… Breitling… call me.) But I will say this: it would be nice, if the next time I do a series on the Fifty Women of Jewelry (ask around), I could have more than four female faces in the group who are from the watch circuit.

And maybe… just maybe… many years down the road when someone else writes a piece on industry women, they will ask why there aren’t more watch writers like me.

Just sayin’. You never, never know.

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Tales From the Strip 2015, PART SIX: Let’s Get This (expletive) Over With

For the love of Pope Francis, am I STILL talking about Vegas? Has this series become like the Sagrada Família, or what? It’s never ending… or is it?

I last left you with the story of our annual Friday night Vegas Gems gathering but this here post is going to cover the following three (count ‘em!) evenings I spent in la Ciudad del Pecado. First up… SAT.

Saturday:

For some reason, and it’s never planned, I wind up staying in on Saturday night every year in Vegas. I know, totally lame, but it just kind of happens that way. Don’t get me wrong, I had more than my fair share of invites to play…

[segment of a text message]

Millennial: “Hey, um, want to meet me at Hakkasan? Calvin Harris is spinning.”

Me: “Man, that sounds awesome, but, I think I’m going to pass. Mainly because I have no idea who that is.”

Millennial: “Yeah, I really don’t know either. I just wanted to sound cool.”

Did I mention I love what I do for a living?

So Saturday was a bust but that was okay with me, because I got to catch up on sleep before Sunday night’s “Rocks the Beach” par-tay down at the other end of the strip. And thanks to the eternally lovely Hayley Henning, I finally had my ticket.

Sunday:

partsix2

KaterinaPerez.com and her accountant

My attire for the show floor on Sunday was a little more conservative than usual. Mainly because I had an appointment with someone who wasn’t exactly a fan of a particularly short shirt I wore to the Centurion Show earlier in the year, so I was hell-bent on making sure that I did my best not to offend him this time.

I wore a suit.

partsix1

Remy, Haley, and the tax collector

This surprised several people. Gannon asked me why I was dressed like an accountant and Natalie with Omi Gems let me do her taxes. (By the way, Nat, no, you cannot write off keg-parties or male strippers. The IRS frowns on that. Sorry, girl.)

When the official work day came to a close, We The (Jewelry) People poured ourselves out onto the Wynn’s patio for a post-show shindig and ass-kissing socializing opportunity. With prosecco in grasp, I made my way through the crowd, kissing hands and shaking babies until the time came for me to bid that world adieu and prepare myself for the *other* world…

Sand.

Song.

Sin.

Scotch.

It was time to head down to Mandalay Bay.

*******

partsix3

Beach Pixie

“Rocks the Beach” had been a highlight for me these last couple of years. Not because I care anything about who is on the stage at the time the concert is happening, but because of who is off the stage when it is. As I have quoted my friend Wendy Brandes in the past… “It’s a concert in a pool!” And, who doesn’t love being soaked, drunk, and covered in sand while you make up song lyrics with some of your favorite people in the world, amiright?

When I arrived at Le Beach (in my heels, because now it’s just a game to see how long I’m able to stand in them on the sand) I headed straight for the bar, because Jeebus knows I can’t do this without liquor. I stumbled walked gracefully through the sand in search of any of my peeps and then a lightbulb came on… the WJA had a cabana. And that’s what I set out in search of.

BAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRBBBBBB!!!!”

I could hear the yells coming from the other side of the pool. I could somewhat make out what appeared to be Tinkerbell waving her arms and throwing pixie dust in my general direction then realized it was the one and only Bern Mack beckoning me.

“Damn. That’s one big-ass pool” I thought to myself. I was kind of trapped. They (my WJA sisters) were all the way on the other side of it, which meant I had to walk completely around it and past the JCK Cabana, but, I saw no other way to get there, and so I started walking, until I noticed that one part of the pool was… well… different.

It was dark, so I wasn’t one-hundred-percent certain that what I thought I was seeing was actually a thing. I mean, I looked like it could have been a thing, but I wasn’t wearing my glasses (because vanity) and I pretty much downed that first Dewars (because gluttony) so I seriously wasn’t sure. If I attempted what I was about to and failed, then let’s just say I’d be all washed up. If I attempted it and succeeded, then, well, it will make for one hell of a grand entrance, so I held my breath, lifted my black strappy stiletto, and stepped foot into what looked like the water.

You see, this pool had a transparent runway of sorts extending from one side to the other, but it was about three to four inches below the pool’s surface, so it wasn’t obvious in the dark, which made for a rather interesting sight.

Yes, my loves… to the unsuspecting eye, I appeared to have been walking on water.

And not only was I walking on water, I was walking on water to cheers and laughter from the crowd, which clearly I hate (sarc.) I was swaying my hips, splashing my heels, and cat walking the sh*t out of that pathway, so much so that when I got to the other side I heard one of the gals say… “Greatest. Entrance. Ever.”

AHHHHH! MY SISTERS!!! MY SISTERS WERE THERE! Deb Hiss, and Anna Samsonova, and Bern, and Wendy, and Erika Winters (who was celebrating her fortieth birthday!) and Britt, and Andrea Hansen, and Jessica, and so, so many of my lovelies. I even got to meet Sarah Keicker for the first time after having been social media pals for a while. It felt so good to be there. Felt like home, ya know? Only thing missing was our fearless leader, Monica Stephenson.

partsix7

And then I woke up…

I eventually made my way back down to the beach where I found Amanda, Molly, and Hayley in time to pose for a #TallGirlClub picture. I also ran into a plethora of Dutch folk, namely Edward and Mike Asscher, while I waited for the man of the hour to arrive…

Oh, I don’t mean musical act Gavin DeGraw… I mean That Kid From Ritani… and sure enough, he did.

There is just something about a 6’4” crossfitter wearing a sleeveless Bengal tiger t-shirt and pink shorts walking across a fake beach. I mean, where else on earth other than Vegas (well, maybe Japan) could one see a sight such as this? Nowhere, people. Nowhere. And thank lawd for that.

“Babs! Em, what ya doin’?”

(I love it when the English rid themselves of those pesky prepositions.)

We chatted for a moment but then I did something I’d been wanting to do for several months… I introduced TKFR to Mr. Best Dressed himself, Mike Asscher.

It was weird to see so much handsomeness come together in one square foot of space. The coalescence of beauty nearly caused the two industry stars to become supernovae, blinding those around them as they smiled their sickeningly perfect smiles.

Ugh. I’m ill. Moving on…

Shortly after Breakin DeLaw Gavin DeGraw hit the stage, I hit the bricks, as I was being beckoned by some of my clients down at the Wynn to come on back for some Oban and shenanigans. And when clients beckon, Barbara obeys, because that’s what you do in the land of the sale.

It was a fine, fine evening down at the beach, and I was so happy to have been able to take part, yet again, in the fun and frivolity.

Monday

partsix4

“You mess with the ram, you get the horns…”

The last day of the Couture show was still a fairly busy one for us. Our appointments ran well into the afternoon until at last we were allowed some down time, which is when I FINALLY got to visit my darling Michelle Peranteau over at Baume et Mercier.

Someone said to me recently, “You know, there is jewelry and there is watches and never the twain shall meet,” but I disagree with that statement. There is definitely a disconnect between the two genres of the adornment world, but there are crossovers as well as enough crossover people (and writers), and it’s about time the two are desegregated.

By Monday night, everyone in Vegas and I were exhausted. I opted for burgers and a beer (oh, the humanity) at Bobby Flay’s joint just off of the strip. I was accompanied by a good friend of mine who had only a few hours before they had to catch the red eye. Then, I took one of my final cab rides of the trip to see the one human being I had yet to see because he was stupid enough to change a light bulb by himself…

Michael Schechter.

Why do they let him near electricity?

Why do they let him near electricity?

No Vegas experience is complete without a night in Eye Candy with Sketchy McNerdystein, so even in my sleep-deprived haze, I made it a point to spend time with one of my favorite people on the planet. And yes, I realize just how much crap I’m going to catch for voicing that morsel of information, but what the hell, you only get one life, right? May as well share your feelings before dementia sets in. And it will. Sometimes purposely. I think for me it will be deliberate dementia so that I don’t have to remember this sh*t when I’m older.

And with that, my people, this year’s Tales From the Strip series comes to a close. Before it does, however, let me give a shout out to Ben Guttery who has given me you-know-what about my not mentioning him in any of these posts. Here ya go, Ben. You get your own paragraph and all.

Until next year, Vegas! Cheers!

Until next year, Vegas! Cheers!

Thank you to GUMUCHIAN, the COUTURE SHOW, JCK EVENTS, the WYNN, my FRIENDS, the WJA, my VEGAS GEMS, the LEAGUE of GEMINISTS, the DIAMOND EMPOWERMENT FUND, my READERS, my EDITOR, and THOSE WHO ATTENDED THE POWER OF BLOGGING SESSION. Y’all rock. PUN. IN. TEND. ED.

See you next year, effers!

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#50MillennialsofJewelry – A New Adornmentality InstaSeries

Hey y’all –

I figured it was time to start a new project since lawd knows I don’t have enough to do. This one is pretty important, though, and I hope you’ll check out my social media pages so that you, too, can follow along.

millennialsWhen I started in the jewelry industry I was twenty-three-years old. I was the epitome of a Gen-‘X’er and could have really used some guidance, or even a kind word to help me along as I explored an industry I knew little about. I had no real mentors and no real training but I knew I was loving what I was doing, and that’s what kept me going and keeps me going today.

There are a plethora of Gen-“Y”ers in the jewelry business right now who have tremendous talent, are armed with education and experience, and who are as passionate as anyone who has been in the industry twice as long. In this latest series I’ll be highlighting one young person every day for fifty days who is making waves/standing out/working hard/following their passions. This is my way of saying, “you’re doing great, and you’re getting noticed” which I know, first hand, can make all the difference in the world to someone.

Please know that even though the list will comprise fifty women and fifty men, that doesn’t mean that there aren’t others who are just as awesome in this biz, and as always, I welcome anyone’s opinions about it, as well as anyone’s recommendations for it as there are some spaces left to fill. I can be reached by email (adornmentality@gmail.com) if you feel the need to reach out.

So, enjoy. I’ll be mixing in some stats about Millennials throughout the series, so maybe we’ll all learn a little something by the end.

Peace.

 

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Trade Show Shenanigans

Tales From the Strip 2015, PART FIVE: Le Gemmes de Vegas Trois/Raising the Bar (Which Was Closed)

What night in Vegas am I on? Friday? Friday. Yeah, I think Friday.

For the last three years, a group of women with some connection to the written word has gathered in Vegas for what we call our annual #VegasGems get together. Our organizer, from moment one, has always been designer and blogger, Shamila Jiwa, and this year was no exception. Shamila came up with the idea that instead of starving ourselves in front of an animated, oversized reptile like we’d done the two years prior, we should instead sit down and do this thing called “aet.” No wait, “e-e-t” I think it’s spelled. Wait, maybe it’s “e-a-t.” Yeah, EAT. That looks right. It’s a foreign concept to most of us during Jewelry Week so we all agreed to try it out both out of curiosity and in the spirit of adventure seeking. And boy, oh boy, what a treat!

#VegasGems Take Jaleo! Photo by Brittany Siminitz

#VegasGems Take Jaleo! Photo by Brittany Siminitz

Little by little we arrived at our destination, skipping this year’s COUTURE awards in order to keep the tradition going. Shamila had made reservations at JALEO at the Cosmopolitan and assured us we’d have the best seat in the house.

I could continue this story by doing a roll call of names of those who are part of our Vegas Gems group, but this year, after the years of having shared many experiences with these women individually, I’m going to give you a breakdown of who they are, as well as who they are to me, starting at the top, with my mentor-in-chief.

Peggy Jo Donohue – Yes, her résumé in the jewelry industry and in the writing world is long and impressive, but it’s who she is when she’s not broken down on paper that’s special to each of us in attendance. There is no greater cheerleader of your life than Peggy Jo Donohue, but there’s also no better person to sit your ass down and make you take a long, deep breath. Many a ledge has been avoided in my life because of her, and with a new gig on the horizon, it was fascinating to be seated alongside PJD for a large part of the night. Cheers, my friend!

gems2

I’ve lost count of how many of these we have now

Wendy Brandes – Writer turned designer (yet still a writer) turned duckface maker, Wendy Brandes, adds a unique layer of fabulousness to our group gatherings. Always dressed in something remarkable, up to and including her beautiful jewels, Wendy’s stories of rap concerts, famous people, kinky couples, and Paul McCartney have us transfixed in amazement and green with envy. When she gets going, it’s as if someone mentioned “bomb” on an airplane, as in, no one makes a sound, clenching their butt cheeks, waiting for the bass to drop. I adore you, WB. May we never not duckface together ever.

Brittany Siminitz – If Paul Rudd’s ANT MAN suit was real, and I could find it, steal it, and make this JCK Marketplace Manager wear that shit, I would. I would make her put it on and shrink herself so that she could climb into my pocket or my wallet or my lipstick holder and be with me all day long, every day. Then I’d make her life size again whenever I needed my Brittany fix. It’s a dream, but what is life without dreams, right? Brittany is truly an underrated yet extremely gifted writer, but beyond that she’s genuine, and positive, and a joy to be around. PLUS, it was her birthday, so, double awesomeness.

Shamila Jiwa – OHHHHHHHHHH, how I LOOOOOOVE me some Shamila Jiwa! Shamila is so tiny that she doesn’t need Paul Rudd’s Ant Man suit to slip into my pocket, but she did claim that it was a little tight in there, prompting me to go paleo ever since. Shamila is a talented jewelry designer, wonderful writer, hilarious storyteller, and all around awesome human being. I also recently got to spend some time with her, one-on-one, during her summer trip to Atlanta, which is hard to do in Vegas even when you’re out on VG night. Shamila, thanks so much for eternally being the organizer of this. Love you to bits!

Cheryl Kremkow – I’ve always been in awe of Cheryl Kremkow’s ability to spot a pair of earrings or a necklace from a mile away and know who the designer was immediately. Ever follow her live tweets at red carpet events? You should. It’s mesmerizing. Cheryl is inspiring and even more importantly, she’s greatly experienced in the written jewelry word and so when she speaks, I listen, and when she writes, I read. She’s a blessing to every jewelry blogger who exists right now, and her support of me and what I do is so very much appreciated. Thank you, CK. Muah muah muah.

Erika Winters – This one, oh I could just smoosh her face, it’s so damn pretty. Erika has genuinely found her calling as a jewelry designer and we #Gems could not be prouder of her. Her gorgeous engagement ring and wedding band lines and the even more beautiful images of each that she takes herself have a social media following all on their own. She still writes on her blog which can be found on her website and still manages to tackle other genres in the creative world, daily. To me, however, she’s simply my good friend who I’d be happy for regardless of what she was doing. And I’m very happy, Erika. Extremely.

Monica Stephenson – The recent WJA award winner for Excellence in Editorial Media should probably get her own table next year so that the multitude of fans who will want her autograph will have a place to sit. It’s okay. We know what’s up. We’ll just yell the jokes across the room to her and have the champagne brought over on the back of That Kid From Ritani. She’ll still have fun. We promise. All kidding aside, I am so very proud of this woman who I love with the wholeness of my heart and I’m thrilled I got to spend so much time with her this year on a week that is usually sporadic and batshit crazy. I bow down, OH QUEEN! May you reign in this industry for years and years to come!

So, now that you know a bit more about each Vegas Gem (other than me, since, my life is obviously an open book) I will go ahead and get into the night a little, cool? Cool.

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Omi Gems Party. NAT!!

We were at dinner FOR-EV-ER. I mean it, I’m pretty sure we were into our third or maybe fourth hour and sixth bottle of wine by the time Jen Heebner and Tanya Dukes arrived (which, by-the-way, brought the *awesome writer* vibe to “danger zone” levels).

We shared glorious latin-inspired tapas and sank a good amount of wine, all while giggling like University of Alabama sorority girls and bitching about what is wrong with our industry. We talked gems and sex and food and travel and sex and wine and mining and sex. Or maybe that was just me talking about sex. Or maybe I was only thinking about it but wasn’t really talking about it. I can’t really remember because wine. I do reminder talking about wine. Or I guess I could have just been drinking it while thinking about it. Wine that is. And sex.

I’m thirsty all of a sudden.

OH, I do recall that I finally got to spend some real time with Jessica Neiwert, however. And I had no idea that Charlie Herner of The Rephinery was her boyfriend, so, total bonus! This a JEWELRY POWER COUPLE, yo! Seriously, keep these two names on your radar and watch them become something magical in this world. I’m betting my next three paychecks on that happening, that’s how confident I am that it will. (Shoutout to Erika’s husband Peter, too!)

As the night was winding down (to Jennifer Dawes, we’re so sorry we missed your gathering!) we realized that several of us had been invited to the OMI GEMS birthday party at The Wynn. We gathered our things and headed through the Cosmo toward the exit, with our fearless long-legged leader clearing a path for the rest of us to follow.

I loathe the Cosmopolitan. It’s like amateur night in that place. Everything one can hate about Vegas is usually walking stumbling drunkenly through the corridors of that godforsaken casino. As our large group tried our best to form a double-file line toward the exit, a cumulus-cloud-sized gathering of gentlemen idiots holding beer bottles and wearing baseball caps headed in our direction. One particularly beefy guy, not paying attention as he was oogling the breasts that were headed up the escalator, slammed full force into my left shoulder, knocking me off balance, as I exclaimed, “OW! Are you serious, dude?”

His beer muscles kicked in, of course, because knocking a woman over is *totally* when they should…

“YEAH, I’M F*CKING SERIOUS, ARE YOU??”

But before the twenty-two-year-old Philly girl living inside of me was able to cock her fist back and land it on his disgusting face, two hands grabbed by shoulders, moved me out of the way, and yelled “Yeah, we’re serious too, asshole!” To which he replied by walking away.

Look, there’s only one other person I know who’s crazy enough to welcome confrontation, but I’m not going to say who that woman is. I’ll only state that her name may or may not rhyme with Shmeggy Flo Clonoughugh, but I can’t say for certain.

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A picture of a picture of us piled into the limo

After seeing that the cab line was as long as the guy who knocked me down’s monthly phone sex charges, Monica disappeared for a moment only to return with a big, black… limo. (Gotcha!) Half of us piled in (and on one another) and we headed toward to Wynn hoping we could arrive at the Omi party in time to celebrate with even more awesome jewelry industry people.

The event was nearly over when we walked in, but we were still able to chill out with Natalie, Niveet, Mando, and many other folks who had been invited to one of the week’s best parties. It was a great way to end our annual group dinner and before long, I called it a night and headed up to my room.

Thanks, my crew, for such a memorable evening. And we really missed you Jessica and Katrina! I look forward to this every year and hope it never stops.

Next up, the last leg of the journey.

Until…

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Trade Show Shenanigans

Tales From the Strip 2015, PART FOUR: D.E.F. Jam in the Desert, aka, Barbara Gets Punk’d

(Yes, yes… I’m still talking about Vegas.)

There is an OZ-like curtain in certain parts of the industry that I was unaware of until this last year. Sometimes it seems, not just to me but many others, like there are the big cities – the Meccas – and then, there’s everywhere else. Sometimes it feels like the truth about tough topics is pushed under the rug as to not offend/not piss off/not shine the spotlight on the players who pay the big bills, or have the big names, or run the big ads. Sometimes, against their own interest, women don’t stand up for women (aka – “mean girl club”). And sometimes, someone such as I – naively, maybe – comes along, and calls out these issues, and calls out the politics or the bullshit for what it is, yet in turn occasionally finds themself outside of some imaginary circle of trust.

Writing about Vegas post-Vegas has been tough for me. Not because I haven’t had things to say or stories to tell (I always have things to say and stories to tell) but because my heart just wasn’t into it, which is why it has taken this long. Remember finding out about Santa Claus? Well, I feel like this year exposed him, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and leprechauns all on the same day, and that left me both indignant and disheartened about the field I’ve been in for nearly two decades, that is, until a few weeks ago…

A simple conversation with a respected colleague and friend can often change how you view something in the long term. When I mentioned that I was going to be stepping back from writing the blog for a while, my statement was met with the following demand:

“Don’t you f*cking dare. Don’t you dare go away because if you do, you’ve lost. Don’t you dare let what’s been going on forever get to you. You are a voice – a voice that people didn’t expect and probably one they weren’t ready for. If change is going to happen, you’re going to make it happen, so don’t you dare walk away. Get out there and write.”

And so, I am.

Today’s post will cover a single night in Sin City – Thursday night. It was the night of the Diamond Empowerment Fund’s “Diamonds in the Sky” event, and I promise you that this recap will be light and airy and fun. There’s no need to think that I’m going to change the world through this entry, but know in the back of your mind that I want to. I want to see change, so I will try my damnedest to be that change. In the interim, however, I give you part four

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After the success of the “Power of Blogging” panel, I was about as high as the state of Colorado, which these days, as you know, is pretty f*cking high. The “Diamonds In the Sky” event was a highlight for me during last year’s Jewelry Week and I was looking forward to being *properly* dressed this time (if you don’t know what I mean, read this post from last year’s event to get yourself caught up).

Once back in my room I fixed my makeup, threw my hair up, and donned a Salmon-colored floor length gown that was summery, flowy, and feminine. I felt… girly… which is not an adjective I use to describe myself often, but what the hell, right? May as well go all in since last year I wore a knee-length dress and felt out of place because everyone was dressed formally. However, as I approached the ballroom at the Four Seasons I noticed that most of the female attendees were in cocktail length dresses and skirts… with some even wearing pants. I had to rub my eyes and do a double-take. What…. the HELL… is going on here? Is this some cruel joke the entire industry is playing on me? Is Ashton Kutcher going to pop out from behind some elegant Vegas drapery and tell me I’m being PUNK’d? THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING. Last year I was underdressed and this year, I’m overdressed?? For the love of jeebus, can I just catch a break?!? Of course I can’t. This is me we’re talking about. Thankfully there was no line at the bar so I went right in and ordered a scotch. A quick scan of the room put Monica, Danielle, Liz Kanter, Amanda Gizzi, and Natalie Bos in my sights, so off I went to talk jewelry and blogs.

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Bern and me on our way to the prom. (Photo courtesy of the Diamond Empowerment Fund)

Everyone looked so glamourous. There were diamond hair clips and gorgeous statement necklaces (including the GUMUCHIAN Cascade necklace I was wearing), and Monica had on a fabulous ring by Payal Shah of L’Dezen. Diamonds weren’t just doing good so far at this event, they were doing freaking GREAT, and were well represented among the blogger community in particular.

We did our usual catching up with our industry favorites (Craig Danforth, Michelle Graff, Jen Cullen Williams, and The Asschers) and I was also able to have some serious conversations with folks like Dr. Ben Chavis, and the AGS’ Ruth Batson. This is an event I really looked forward to as I remembered just how wonderful last year’s dinner was (I mean, what event isn’t awesome where you get to high five Chaka Khan as she sings “I’m Every Woman”?). But this year’s entertainment was going to be Kelly Rowland – one third of the nineties megagirlgroup, “Destiny’s Child” and multi-platinum solo recording artist. And yo, I knew all of that without even looking her up on Wiki! Holla! (Did I spell that correctly?)

DITS DEF2

Pixie, Dipsh*t, and The International Man of Mystery

I was fortunate enough to be seated between Diamond Council of America president, Terry Chandler, and WJA Executive Director and pixie-cut-wearer extraordinaire, Bernadette Mack. When Terry saw that we were being served a type of wine that I don’t drink, he jumped in and ordered a bottle of my favorite for the table. I can see why Cindy and he have such a fantastic relationship. Way to be accommodating, Terry! Terry also, though, for some reason, thought his Facebook account had come to life that night as he found that poking me in the left arm over and over and over and over was more than amusing. Oh, Terry… you’re so lucky I like you, because if I didn’t, I would have taken you out at the knees and dropped your ass.

So many wonderful things happened during this year’s Diamonds in the Sky Gala, but for me, because I’m who I am, the part where super-hot Olympic swimmer Roland Schoeman was auctioned off was extraordinary. I tried bidding, but, you know… I’m too much woman for him to have handled and once he met me he’d never want to leave my bed side, which would make swimming really difficult, and, well, the world needs him, so, I allowed myself to be outbid. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

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Kelly Rowland singing to Dr. Ben. (Photo courtesy of the Diamond Empowerment Fund)

After the food, fun, speeches, success stories, and songs were all over, a multitude of us decided to gather at our regular stomping grounds for an after-party…

That’s right, kids… you’ve waited long enough… time to talk about EYE CANDY.

I’ve been accused of namedropping during this series in the past and to those accusers I say, go f*ck yourselves, because for the most part, when I mention a name in one of these posts, people get excited to know that they’re part of the fun. So in the spirit of namedropping, let me be the first to say that it was great seeing you Brandee, Fran, Anna, Alexis, Denise, Mike, Lita, Chris, Bob, Tim, Henry, Ulysses, Bethany, Cher, and Madonna! Yeah. I went there. Madge knows what’s up. (Pssst…. Madge… call me.)

The party got a little outrageous which was a sure sign it was time for me to go. On my way out, a friend handed a different friend to me for me to get them into a cab, and I obliged because that’s what you do when you’re in the desert with your jewelry family.

Thanks for being patient while I got into my groove again. I still have to write about this year’s #VegasGems gathering and will likely close out the series with a sixth and final post after that. Then, we’ll talk New York, the WJA Awards for Excellence, the 24K Club SEUS event, and my #FiftyWomenofJewelry compilation.

There’s much to say, and I’m grateful that plenty of you are still putting your listening ears on.

Until…

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Trade Show Shenanigans

Tales From the Strip 2015, PART THREE: The Element of Surprise

Weeks before my fellow writers and I were to participate in JCK’s “Power of Blogging” panel as part of their JCK Talks education sessions, I started to think about what would make a good presentation. As it was somewhat explained to us, this wasn’t to be the sort of panel where you get up in front of the crowd (if you were lucky enough to have a crowd attend) and *tell* them how to blog. Rather, we were told to explain to those in attendance what worked for us as successful bloggers. The only issue with that as I saw it was that we only had four minutes to speak, so I knew that I needed to not only get my points across, but that I also needed to make those points impactful. And how does one make a presentation impactful in merely four minutes? Well, my friends, one does so by using The Element of Surprise…

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DAY ONE, COUTURE:

Quoting (paraphrasing, actually) my friend and fellow writer, Andrew Hanelly during a recent conversation about how beautiful everyone is at the COUTURE show:

I felt like a vagrant when I got there last year.”

Andrew was missed this time around during Vegas week but his statement rang as true as ever. The reality is, I often felt like my game was strong when I was exhibiting down at JCK. In other words, I could walk on the show floor – all 6+ feet of me in heels – and eyes would follow; heads would turn. But at COUTURE? I may as well have been taking out the garbage… and by “garbage” I mean ¾ of the kale salad/no dressing left of the “lunch” that was smelled eaten by the ridiculously svelte, model-esque sales associate working for Ivanka Trump.

Everyone at COUTURE is stunning. Let me explain further…

The old dudes are stunning: They possibly hail from Italy or other fabulous European countries so their loafers are made of the softest Italian leather and their pocket squares are Gucci, or Prada, or Valentino.

The young dudes are stunning: They’ve got handsome beards with cool long hair or white-boy afros and their metrosexuality puts Brad Pitt and his fedoras to shame.

The older women are stunning: They speak French/Turkish/Spanish/Russian, and with an unassuming grace they kiss you on both cheeks and reek of a sexuality untamed by age.

The younger women are stunning: Because youth, because Crossfit, because kale, because yoga, because fashion, because hats, because winged eyeliner, because boobies.

Team Gumuchian in front of our Sew Sketchy panels. L to R, Chris, Jodi, Myriam, Me, Tatiana

Team Gumuchian in front of our Sew Sketchy panels. L to R, Chris, Jodi, Myriam, Me, Tatiana

But let’s face it, folks… doesn’t jewelry just make everyone a little prettier? And what lovelier jewelry is curated in one place than the lines that exhibit at the COUTURE jewelry show, right?

With a pride beyond what you could ever imagine, I stepped up to the GUMUCHIAN booth and stared in awe. GUMUCHIAN had partnered with Instagram sensation, Sew Sketchy, and the end result was a magically chic world combining beautiful product images, a ridiculously tall supermodel, and hilariously-written catch phrases. It was colorful, whimsical, and powerful, and I expected nothing less from the women who run the company I work for.

One of the highlights for me of showing at Couture was that I’d being doing so alongside people and designers who are very dear to my heart. For one, Vicente Agor would be showing at Salon 137 along with five other Contemporary Jewelry Design Group designers. Vicente and his husband (that’s right, his HUSBAND! THANK YOU, SCOTUS!!) Michael really came through for me (along with the AWESOME, PATIENT, and PROFESSIONAL Andrea Hill) when it came to getting my logo in order for the banners that were to grace the room at the Power of Blogging panel. There are no two finer humans on this planet and I absolutely LOVED them the second I met them (that’s for you, Vicente!). Also showing at Couture for the first time were the RAD women of Buddha Mama, whom I met in NY in January after an introduction by Michelle Orman, and who have been super warm to me since.

One of the best feelings I’ve experienced in this industry is when I meet people who are genuinely their own people; those who don’t follow a crowd, or a clique, or a trend. I’m an acquired taste, and I know that about myself, so I appreciate it when people like (or, even dislike) me based on their own experiences with me. I welcome everyone to judge me by determining in their mind how they think I’ve interacted with them, and I promise those people in return that I will treat them how I feel they’ve treated me. In this regard I can honestly say that there are several COUTURE vendors who have welcomed me and accepted me with open arms. People like Zoe Chicco, and Victor Veylan, and Todd Reed, and Paula Crevoshay, and Jennifer Dawes, and Julie Romanenko, and the gals at Jane Taylor, and Erica Courtney, and the folks at Omi Prive, and Jade Trau, and Margery Hirschey and… well, the list goes on. Thanks, you guys. Thanks for making me feel welcomed at Couture, and being interested in what I’m doing on this blog in terms of its honesty and sincerity. It means a lot. A whole lot more than you could ever imagine.

Now, let’s get down to the nitty gritty, shall we? It’s time to discuss, The Panel….

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DAY ONE, “THE POWER OF BLOGGING” PANEL, JCK TALKS

Picture taken from @idazzle's Instagram account

Picture taken from @idazzle’s Instagram account

It was my absolute honor to be included in a blogger group containing Monica Stephenson (Idazzle.com), Danielle Miele (GemGossip.com), and Katerina Perez (KaterinaPerez.com). JCK could not have picked four more diverse and different bloggers than we four, and I felt honored to sit alongside the three of them on our “Power of Blogging” panel, moderated by Diane Warga-Arias, who was in charge of running JCK’s education programs.

My boss, Myriam, has given me an unbelievable amount of support as it pertains to my blog. She knows that I don’t make money from it and that I do it as a hobby in my spare time, but still, I was nervous to ask her if I could leave for HOURS so that I could do this *thing* at the other end of the strip that would pull me away from my paying job. But Myriam is nothing short of amazing… she welcomed the opportunity and wished me only the best of luck and for that, I cannot thank her enough. It really is a privilege to work for this woman.

When I showed up at Mandalay Bay, I found Monica and Roger Dery going over some things for their upcoming African excursion. Roger explained that he’d be at the panel, so naturally, I handed him an “I read Adornmentality because fun” pin that I had made for the event. Oh, I’m sorry, do you not know about those yet? Well, you will soon enough.

When I finally got to the room that the panel would be in (after walking for what felt like a year and a half) I met up with Danielle, Katerina, and Diane’s assistant, who was prepping us on how everything was going to go, and how she would tell us how much time we had left to speak during our presentations. After Monica showed up and the four of us were hooked up to our microphones (hello? Is this thing on??) I informed the girls that I had a bag that contained several mini bottles of scotch and asked if any one of them wanted to do a quick shot with me to calm their nerves…

Monica: “I probably shouldn’t.”

Katerina: “I don’t drink.”

Danielle: “I’m in.”

Me: “(Glug, glug, glug.)”

My darling, talented friend Erika and me. Photo credit: Erika Winters and Peter Walberg.

My darling, talented friend Erika and me. Photo credit: Erika Winters and Peter Walberg.

OH MY GAWD THE ROOM IS STARTING TO FILL UP. And by “fill up” I mean my friend Jay Mednikow is here. Thank heavens. That means that there’s one for my team so even if I f*ck up royally, I can count on Jay to give me applause. I hope. But frankly, it didn’t stop there…

So many of my pals, colleagues, and readers came out to support the blogging community. Andrea Hanson, Amanda Gizzi, Helena Krodel, Marylouise Lugosch, Rebecca Moskal, Jennifer Heebner, Erika Winters (as well as her husband, Peter), Amy Rosevare, Robyn Hawk, and Peggy Jo Donahue just to name a few. Oh, and our fellow #VegasGem Cheryl Kremkow LITERALLY got off of a plane and came right to the panel! Now’s THAT’S some SUPPORT! When the four of us were finally asked to step onto the stage after a short introduction by the lovely Mark Smelzer, we looked out at the crowd and were pretty amazed. It was standing room only, and that, my friends, was a damn good feeling. Nerve-wracking, but good. And the feeling only got better.

Diane started with an introduction and spoke about the importance of blogging as it pertains to our industry. Once she introduced the first blogger, however, the room became immersed in hearing our stories. Monica was the primary speaker, followed by yours truly, and then came Danielle, with Katerina being the last of the four of us.

The beginnings of a prop - I think I nailed it, save the AGS 1 cut grade.

The beginnings of a prop – I think I nailed it, save the AGS 1 cut grade.

When people have asked me how the panel went, I’ve answered the same way each and every time: “I feel like the four of us spoke in a manner that was reflective of how we write our blogs. Monica spoke about how she writes with stats and facts backing her up, in the diplomatic fashion and Zen-like vibe that Monica is known for. Danielle spoke largely of her love of jewelry and yet still managed to make the crowd laugh with a story about how she was no longer with the guy who helped give her the idea to start blogging in the first place. Katerina spoke of the world of high jewellery, and why details and professional imagery are so important when she blogs. And I, of course, gave a batshit crazy presentation that started with a prop and ended with me throwing mini bottles of single-malt scotch out to members of the audience.” I mean, could all four of those have gone more perfectly? I think not. I think not.

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I believe, in this picture, I’m thanking my Uncle Steve for attending. Thank you to Matthew Perosi for the photo.

When it was time for me to speak, I stood up, grabbed the diamond-plot-shaped-prop I created (out of foam board and electrical tape… because, you know, I’m a mom…) and put a bag of buttons and bottles on the podium. The ONLY thing I had practiced for my entire presentation was my opening line. I decided I would wing everything else as I didn’t want to have to look down at notes or read from a card. I stood, taking center stage in a red dress and, as Danielle described it… hair that was pageant worthy, and introduced myself to the roughly 150 people who had taken the time to come see us.

“Hi guys! I’m Barbara Palumbo, and I’m the blogger that Rob Bates warned you about.”

From the @rachelbostonjewellery Instagram account. Loved her caption on this!

From the @rachelbostonjewellery Instagram account. Loved her caption on this!

This, thankfully, made this audience laugh, whether they knew what I was referencing or not. However, I continued by telling the crowd the backstory of that opening line…

“If you attended the AGS conclave you know that Rob Bates, while speaking of the president’s party during his monologue, told the crowd that it was New Orleans and that they could get crazy and wear masks and have fun. Then he said, ‘Just don’t do anything that will land you in Barbara Palumbo’s blog’ and he was right, because I’m telling you right now: If you’re out tonight and you see me somewhere at some bar, I suggest you start your conversation like this, ‘Hey! Barbara! Off the record…’ because if you don’t, whatever you say is landing in my blog, okay?”

I then went on to explain how I started blogging in the first place and that I had formerly written pieces for BlogHer.com and had been offered full-time paid writing gigs at other popular blogging sites but had turned those offers down because, “who needs money?”

Once the backstory was established, and through the use of six different colored papers fastened to my foam board diamond prop, I began telling the crowd about what has worked for me, with each paper containing a different word or phrase:

Honesty

Humor

Bravery

Humility

Diplomacy

The Element of Surprise

From the Instagram account of jewelry designer Geoffrey Scott. He calls me the "loud and funny one"

From the Instagram account of jewelry designer Geoffrey Scott. He calls me the “loud and funny one”

Every topic was accompanied by a short explanation as to how they’ve worked, or why, until I got to the word, “Diplomacy” which was followed by silence, since, let’s face it, has diplomacy ever really worked for me? Yeah, no. Never has. Not in my blog. Likely never will, either.

By the time I reached “The Element of Surprise” I was roughly forty seconds over my four-minute mark (thank you so much to Matthew Perosi, who sent me some fantastic pictures that he took, as well as the audio of my presentation which allowed me to see just how long I ran). So Diane, thinking I was finished, started her wrap-up. But I, knowing that the best part was yet to come, said loudly “wait a second, I’m not done” and started throwing buttons and bottles of scotch out to the audience, who responded with an eruption of laughter, hoots, and applause. I then thanked the crowd, bowed, and took my seat, feeling satisfied and spent.

After everyone spoke and the Q&A from the audience was over, we were able to do a quick meet and greet in front of our banners before being ushered out into the hallway to continue answering questions anyone may have had. This was a defining moment of the entire experience, I felt, because we were all now able to breathe, relax, and meet some of the faces who had been merely likes, clicks, shares, or tweets before this very moment. It’s humbling to hear someone you have never met say to you “I’ve been reading your blog for a while now and I just wish you would post more” or “you crack me the hell up” or even “wow, you really are as tall as you say you are.” It’s humbling, for sure, but man, it’s super effing rad, too.

Another big thank you to Matthew Perosi for capturing this picture of the five women involved in the panel. Left to right, Diane, Monica, Me, Danielle, and Katerina

Another big thank you to Matthew Perosi for capturing this picture of the five women involved in the panel. Left to right, Diane, Monica, Me, Danielle, and Katerina

So, a BIG thank you to JCK for having me as well as an apology to them for running a little over my four minutes. A HUGE merci to those who came out to hear us and to the folks who introduced themselves; it was my pleasure to share a piece of myself with you in person. And lastly, to my fellow bloggesses – my Bloggerati, if you will – you guys were fantastic and I hope we get to take this show on the road someday.

The next series of posts will include stories from the Diamond Empowerment Fund’s “Diamonds in the Sky” gala as well as this year’s “Rocks the Beach” experience (spoiler alert: I walk on water).

Until…

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#jewelrypeople, Trade Show Shenanigans

Tales From the Strip 2015, PART TWO (b): The Password is “Miami”

Him: (Flustered) “You can’t wear that shirt.”

Me: “WHAT?? Why not? I’m not on the show floor. Myriam said I could even wear midriffs as long as it wasn’t during show hours.”

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Matty and me. I wore the shirt.

Him: (Looking down at my… um… *shirt*) “You just… (now, blushing) you can’t wear that.”

Me: “Hey, after two kids, I’m proud of these suckers (no pun intended). I’m wearing it.”

The above conversation was between my co-worker, Chris, and me, right before we stepped out for the evening on the first night we arrived in Vegas. Let me give you a little back story on him and us, though…

Chris is my twenty-four-year-old colleague, friend, accessory, and sometimes confidant. Over the last year we’ve worked together, we’ve developed a fantastic relationship. Mind you, I’m eighteen years his senior, so it’s sometimes like an “older aunt to younger step-nephew” relationship, but he’s a funny guy and he’s new to the industry, so he’s not jaded like so many seasoned salesmen I know.

I can pretty much guarantee that on any given night I’m going to get a text from Chris with a picture of him at the pool, or him on a golf course, or him with a hot woman, or him saying “I just made a $50,000 sale!” or him exclaiming “NEW YORK IN FIVE WEEKS, BABBBBYYYYYYYY…. YEAHHHHHHH!” Never once am I annoyed, or disappointed, or bothered. I like Chris in my life. He keeps me young, but if I’m being completely honest, he’s not the only one of his kind who does.

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Christopher and I headed to Parasol Up to grab a drink before I was to head out for a “gals only” dinner at Giada De Laurentiis’ new restaurant at the Cromwell. A quick visit to Parasol Down to check out the scenery led to a run-in with Neiman Marcus’ Larry Pelzel, as well as my personal faves, the beautiful and personable Lita and Mike Asscher.

“You really do know everybody,” Chris said to me, and as I turned and winked at him I said… “My love, you have *no* idea…”

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Handsome Sam. Where’s your wallet?

As we hopped the escalator to head back up, we saw the frighteningly gorgeous Sam Jansen (it’s true; I’m actually afraid of him, he’s so damned good looking) while also running into beautiful Rebecca Boyajian, who coincidentally, was part of the group of women I’d be joining for dinner. The four of us grabbed a spot at the bar and ordered our drinks – two Proseccos for the ladies, and two whatevers for the gentlemen (I don’t really pay attention when men speak. Sorry. It’s the “manly” side of me.) What I did realize, however, was that the bartender thought we were a bunch of dipshit millennials (clearly the guy didn’t spot my grays) and tried charging us SEVENTY DOLLARS for the Proseccos. Dude… this is when I gained a whole new respect for Chris Matty. Before I could open my mouth, Chris went BATSHIT on the asshole man for clearly trying to take advantage of us, so as I went to take my first sip of bubbly, the bartender literally took the glass out of my mouth.

Good times.

Once the four of us finished our spirits (and Sam realized he had misplaced his wallet… OOPS!) Rebecca and I headed off in a cab to join our WJA sisters for dinner.

Upon our arrival we were greeted by our host, Brandee, and took our place at a fittingly round table with a fabulous view of the Strip. Brandee almost immediately turned to me and said: “You realize you’re not allowed to blog about any of the conversations that happen here tonight, right?” To which I replied, “I can only make that promise if you and everyone here says that whatever they say is ‘off the record.’”

Brandee (without skipping a beat): “Off the record.”

Des: “Off the record.”

Fran: “Off the record.”

Monica: “Off the record.”

Rebecca: “Off the record.”

Kristie: “Off the record.”

Me: (In my mind) “Y’all suuuuuuuuuck so badly.”

So, that’s pretty much all I can share about the dinner. Can you believe how stupid I am? I gave them the out and they took it and I can’t share a damn thing. I hate me.

OH! I will say this, though, since it’s super important to the rest of the story. As the dinner was ending, Brandee went ahead and checked her phone and said, “Okay, so, we’re going to a speakeasy now, is that cool with everybody?”

For me, she may as well have said, “Hey, I’ve got these five trash bags filled with hundred dollar bills, chocolate, and naked pictures of Paul Rudd that I don’t know what to do with. Can you help me by taking some of them?”

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The Speakeasy.

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Brunettes for days. Photo courtesy of Jen Cullen Williams.

As we waited for taxis to arrive, I began a texting frenzy to a couple of my twenty-something male cohorts to try to get them to meet up with us there.

“Okay, so, a bunch of my middle-aged smokin’ hot friends and I are headed to a burlesque venue called ‘1923’ at the back of Mandalay Bay. It would be nice if we had some eye candy for a change.”

“No, we’re not going to Eye Candy.”

“Yes, I know that’s also at Mandalay Bay.”

“Christ, do you want to go or not?”

“Okay, it’s called ‘1923’ and when you get there, the password is ‘Miami.’”

“Yes, you need a password.”

“Yes, I’m dead serious.”

“Yes, I know you love Vegas.”

“It’s burlesque, not a strip club.”

“You really need to get out more, man.”

And so it was that as our group walked up to the bar and gave the doorman our password, a bookshelf became a hidden passageway into a dimly-lit room with go-go dancers and hipster bartenders. There were people everywhere – three deep at the bar, yet whose was the scruffily-bearded, English face I saw first in the crowd?

“BABS IS HERE!”

Voila. Instant eye candy. Thank you, oh, thank you, you wonderful speakeasy gods.

What… a… CROWD! The jewelry industry’s best and brightest apparently all got the memo – or at least, got the password. Amanda Gizzi, and Jen Cullen Williams, and MY FRIENDS FROM HALE’S and Danny Chandler, too! Lecil and the Henderson crew were there, as was Ron Saltiel, and, no surprise, Raymond Hak. There were beautiful performers (that brunette?! Wowsa.) and the drinks were free as long as you tipped your servers. I felt like I had died and gone to single-malt-scotch heaven, down to when my eyes caught Lucking and Chris Matty doing the bump for a small audience of women.

I FREAKING love this job.

After a couple of brown liquors and an inappropriate offer or two from a handful of overly excited patrons, I decided it was time to get my arse in a car and head back up the Strip to the Wynn. I slipped out of the side door and headed for an exit, walking past the Eye Candy bar and hesitating for a split second on whether or not I should peek in… “Naaaaah. Nothing could make this night any better” I thought, so off I went into the neon madness, with not much more than the next day’s events on my mind.

Tune in to Part THREE to check out how the opening day of the COUTURE show went and what really went on at the “Power of Blogging” panel! (Spoiler alert: no one was maimed but blood was definitely spilled.)

 

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Uncategorized

Tales From the Strip 2015, PART TWO (a): Three Male Escorts and a Really Big… Gun.

After handing off my broken luggage to the lovely bellman at the Wynn, Jorge then took me across town to the Mandalay Bay convention center.

I had several hours to kill before I needed to be on the COUTURE show floor for setup, and decided it would be better to work on getting information for the blog I write (and don’t get paid for) than to go to the pool and relax because, well, in the eyes of the medical world I’m what they would technically call, “stupid.”

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And away… we… go!

Walking the tan carpeting for what would be the second to last time that week was surreal for me. JCK is where a lot of my friends are, and they are definitely a huge reason I would miss showing there, but, you know… COUTURE has… well… it has Gannon, so… ‘nuff said, amiright, girls?

I headed straight for the press room (thank you, JCK, for having an actual press room and not a press stage [I’m glaring at you, Joshua] so that the members of the press can adjust their wedgies when needed) and picked up my press badge. Little did I realize, however, that the badge given to me was for the JCK show, and not for LUXURY, which was the invite-only show taking place on the day that I arrived. This little morsel of information will come in handy later on in the post, so back burner that shit, ya dig?

Once badged-up, I scoured the room for familiar faces, and sure as hell, the face I saw first was the exact same one I saw first last year… fellow blogger, Robyn Hawk. I mentioned in my original post from last year’s TFtS series that Robyn was the gal who snapped a great picture of me, clad in badges, and it was so awesome seeing her again. I was less giddy this time around since last year I was a pressroom virgin and practically peed myself when I saw the swag bags. But this year I knew better…

I wore a diaper.

After catching up with Robyn and the TREMENDOUSLY WONDERFUL AND UNDERSTANDING AND DIPLOMATIC AND FREAKING AWESOME AND RAD Rebecca Moskal, it was time to go say hello to some of my homies, so I walked toward Elite Enclave where I knew I’d find LUXE Intelligence.

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Wearing Daria DeKoning’s Druzy Necklace in 18K Gold

WOW. Just, wow. What a difference a year makes.

Andrea Hansen and the LUXE team have assembled an incredible amount of talented designers to date. I mean, Payal Shah alone lights up even the darkest of spaces, and yet there was so much brightness and such a multitude of stars coming from each and every direction of their salon. Let’s put it this way… I COVET the designs of Kerri Halpern and her Madstone Jewelry collection, so it was awesome seeing her in person, and I’m a great big fan of Daria DeKoning’s work, as well. (And don’t you get me started on those ROYAL ASSCHERS!) Naturally, though, I had to pay homage to two women I’ve known since my days at LAGOS: Anne King Lagos and Toni Leslie… aka REALM jewelry. Philly is as Philly does, yo, and if we don’t have each other’s backs, ain’t nobody gonna have our backs.

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Rings by REALM. Feeling goddess-like.

It was fabulous seeing all of the wonderful designers in that salon, as well as Ms. Hansen and Helena Krodel, but it was time to walk the aisles of the LUXURY show itself, so after a brief conversation with my friend and colleague, Jay Mednikow, I scooted toward the Rio Tinto booth to find the one and only Brandee Dallow.

Every time I see her I want to sing her namesake song. I mean, she must get that shit all the time but I’m filled with musicality and GOSH DARNIT, I WANNA LET IT OUT. Before I could start embarrassing myself, however, Brandee said, “Come here… I’ve got to show you this” and took me over to what I assumed could only be their Oculus Rift virtual mine tour. “You want in? Want to try it?” she said, and while every ounce of my being was shouting from inside of me… “Yes, dork, you know you want to try it. You rode the Great American Scream Machine eight times in a row at Six Flags without vomiting, so clearly, you want to try this thing” I looked at my watch and realized it wouldn’t be long before I’d turn back into a cinder-covered servant and my horses would soon become mice. “B, I want to so badly, but I really need to get going.” Which is when Brandee whipped out her IPhone and a pair of what looked like welder’s glasses, and said to me, “Then here… at least try this…

Technology blows my mind, man. I mean, not in a “how in the hell do people watch the Kardashians?” kind of way, but more in like an “I can’t believe that dude carved Lincoln’s portrait out of a single grain of salt” type of way. Rio Tinto has created an Oculus Rift app that will allow the viewer, using special glasses and their own smartphone, to virtually visit their mine and see what is going on in 3D.

I don’t know about you, but my head just exploded while typing that.

Before I left RT, however, Brandee said to me, “You’re in for tonight, right? I asked Monica to join us, too. Giada’s new place. See you at 8?” To which I replied… “Oh yeah, I’m there.”

With that, I knew I just had one more stop to make before I left; one more very important person to see…

You’re looking smart in your glasses, Mr. Lucking.”

BABS! What are you doing here?!?”

You see, even though I made a point (or several) in last year’s posts about just how dreamy and desirable “that kid from Ritani” was, he’s actually a pretty rad dude who I’ve come to know fairly well. We chatted briefly about work and plans before I had to head out, but I knew it would only be a matter of time before Thor would be in my presence again.

While walking toward the exit, though, I suddenly found myself surrounded by three armed security guards, and not in a “let’s replay a scene from my bachelorette party” way, either.

“Miss, you don’t have proper access to this part of the convention” the small one said. I guess they let the small ones do the talking so that the bigger ones can play the “bad cop” roles.

Me: “Really? I think I do. I just picked this badge up. It’s a press badge. That gives me access, yes?”

Small cop: “Only if you’re here for the JCK show. Your badge says ‘JCK.’ This is ‘LUXURY.’ You need a LUXURY badge or else you can’t be here.”

Me: “Oh. Okay, that’s cool. I’ll just head back to the press room and grab a Luxury badge. No biggie.”

Tiny cop: “We can’t let you go unescorted. We’ll have to go with you.”

Me: “(Laughing) Are you serious? You’re giving me an armed escort to the press room?”

Itsy bitsy cop: “We have to if you don’t have the proper access to be here.”

Me: “This is *so* going in my blog.”

Microscopic cop: (((Silence while walking behind me with his AK-47 or whatever the hell he was carrying)))

part2b

**Adored**

My escorts (escorts in Vegas… imagine that) accompanied me back to the press lounge in time for me to make out with celebrity stylist Michael O’Connor (you had to be there) and share a moment with my BLOGGERATTI – aka – Monica Stephenson, Katerina Perez, and Danielle Miele. I cannot thank the three of these women enough for the positive feedback and support they gave me leading up to our “Power of Blogging” panel. Not sure I could have done it without them, and I’m dead serious when I say that.

Once I arrived back at the Wynn I picked up my “PROPER ACCESS” badge for the COUTURE show and headed off to meet my Gumuchian crew. After a quick conversation with the Adventurine creators, I walked through the doors of the Lafitte ballroom and nearly ran right into Swoonon… I mean, Gannon… who appeared a little frazzled and not quite as Gannonish as I’m used to seeing him. “Hey. Just to let you know, the panels haven’t arrived yet with the illustrations. Just letting you know.”

Nice to see you too, GB.

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5425 had its advantages

But, you know what? This is the GUMUCH crew, man. No panels? NO WORRIES. We don’t sweat it. We’re excited to be here – Chris, Myriam, Jodi, Tat, and I. We got that booth set up in a matter of minutes, panels or not. And when all was said and done, I headed up to my room on the 54th floor, drew back the curtains, took a deep breath, and took in all of it, all while sipping on a glass of Macallan 12 that another not-so-secret admirer had sent to my room.

This has all been so nice so far” I thought to myself. “But, I’m thinking I need a little girl time. And maybe just a little naughtiness.

And that’s exactly what I was in for.

To be continued…

 

*******

 

(And if my little girlfriend is reading this from her bed, and you know who you are, I’m thinking of you and hope this brought you some laughter… hugs and kisses…)

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#jewelrypeople, Trade Show Shenanigans

Tales From the Strip 2015, PART ONE: “She Came In Like a Wrecking Ball”

The time has come, y’all…

I toyed around with several different titles for the first post in this year’s “TFtS” series, and thought I had narrowed it down to the following:

“Tales from the Strip, 2015: Speakeasies, Speeches, and Everything In Between”

“Tales from the Strip, 2015: How to Throw Scotch and Sharp Objects At Innocent People”

“Tales from the Strip, 2015: The Devil Wears Whitestrips”

Then, my friend Jen Cullen Williams, without realizing it, gave me the perfect title, because goddammit, it’s true… “She Came In Like a Wrecking Ball”… and of course, she was referring to me.

For those who may not know, I’m a bit of a mess. Well, not always… I mean, even with my crappy upbringing on the streets of inner-city Philly, and my newfound reputation as an industry “troublemaker” and “controversial blogger” (I mean, really???), I can promise you that I likely still have better table manners and more decorum than even the darlingest of industry darlings out there. But, there is the fact that when I walk into a room, everyone is aware of it – usually because I’ve knocked over a plant with a loud crash – which is precisely where Jen’s “Wrecking Ball” reference comes from.

My Vegas experience started long before I ever stepped foot on that Delta jetliner heading west. I spent weeks scheduling appointments with my Gumuchian customers as well as preparing a presentation for the JCK Talks blogger panel I was asked to take part in. But I was excited for all of it – every bit. This was to be my first time ever as a COUTURE exhibitor, as well as my first experience taking part on a panel during Jewelry Week. I was stoked, and even though I was informed that “several people questioned” my place on the blogger panel prior to it ever occurring, I was confident, prepared, and determined to make the people in attendance remember who Adornmentality was (if they didn’t already know) and, for all the right reasons. Indeed, my friends… I Came In Like a Wrecking Ball… and I’m not ashamed to admit it. More on how the panel went will be written about in an upcoming tale.

Vegas Shoes

#VegasShoes, or, as I call it, the reason my luggage broke.

For now, let’s take this experience all the way back to the beginning, shall we? And by beginning, I mean the shoes. If you’re a reader, friend, or fan, you know that I’m referencing the #VegasShoes hashtag that had everyone from Peggy Jo Donahue (and her black Reebok sneakers) to John Carter (and his three pairs of man shoes) instagramming what type of footwear (and how many of them) they’d be transporting to Sin City. As for me, I went with fourteen pairs of heels and one pair of flats because I don’t intend on being able to walk without a cane past the age of forty-six. Am I an idiot? Naturally. But I’m a tall idiot with killer calves and tight buttocks and I intend on living in the present, so, whatevs.

Now, the downside to packing the left half of the shoe department from Neiman Marcus in my luggage is the cost. Meaning, I stepped up to curbside check-in, put my bag on the scale, and had to perform CPR on the Skycap because he had heart failure after laughing so hard. Don’t worry, he was totally hot and it was worth it. I mean, don’t worry, he survived after multiple attempts. (Did I actually type that first part? I meant to think it.) Thankfully, I’m a professional packer, so I pack an extra bag in my bag, allowing me to remove the *several* extra pounds and to walk away, fee and carry-on bag free. GoooooooOOOoooooOOOOo Medallion Miles!

Corn Porn

Corn Porn? WTF, Hartsfield-Jackson?

At the gate, just past the phallic-looking and clearly excited corn sculpture, I ran into my wonderful friend Rachel Jackson from The Knot. Rach helped me with a quote for that day’s Fifty Women of Jewelry pick, which just happened to be our colleague, the uber-talented Erica Courtney. Rach is my homegirl. We’re about the same age (I’m older [weeping on my keys] by a few years) but we’re both of Italian descent and totally get one another when it comes to how we deal with morons people and why we don’t put up with the bullshit that this industry can sometimes dish out. Rach had a first-class ticket (because, have you met her? I mean, obvs) and I, naturally, was seated back in crap class. But because she’s Rach, and because she’s the raddest of rads, she smuggled food to me. I mean, we’re Italian. Smuggling food is a national pastime. Ever been to an Italian baby shower? Yeah, you should totally hire security to check our EXTREMELY OVERSIZED handbags at those things… in them there are definitely about two dozen mini cannoli and a pair of fancy salt and pepper shakers that we swiped from the restaurant. We Italians stick together, too. (TAKE NOTE OF THAT, READERS. THERE ARE LOTS OF US.) (But please don’t take that as threatening.) (Not true… I have to say that for legal reasons, but you should definitely take it as threatening.) (P.S. I’m in the mafia.) (P.P.S. That’s not true. Or is it?) Where in the f*ck am I going with this story? OH! THE PLANE, BOSS! THE PLANE!

After an uneventful flight and getting my bags in a timely manner, I walked outside of McCrappen McCarran airport and through the cigarette-smoke-filled haze to the taxi stand line, which, without exaggeration, already had about four or five trillion people in it (I counted). As I moved around the cattle chute with my seventy-pound bag of shoes in tow, I saw a plethora of familiar faces that I was sure I’d likely see again at some point, yet as I nevertheless went to say hello to one of them in particular, I noticed that my bag suddenly became much, much, MUCH lighter.

I was afraid to turn around as I was sure that whatever had just occurred was going to cost me even more money than I had already spent on this trip that hadn’t technically begun yet. And, naturally, I was correct. The weight of the bag – the BRAND NEW Samsonite Bag, mind you – had caused the body of it to pull away from its handle, smashing it to the ground while making the retractable handle itself snap off, sending the springs flying into Las Vegas oblivion. “She came in like a wrrrrrrecking baaaaaall… “

And all I could think was, “for the love of big baby Jesus, please… please don’t tell me that the week is starting off this way…”

But it did, and frankly, that’s cool, because that was probably the worst thing that happened all week.

because fun

People love me so much it hurts, just ask Roger Dery who bled because of this pin I gave to him.

The cab ride to the Wynn was amazing. Whoa, wait… HAVE YOU EVER HEARD THAT SENTENCE UTTERED IN YOUR LIFE? The cab ride was amazing, Barbara?? Seriously? What the hell could make a cab ride amazing? It’s a CAB RIDE! The driver would have to have had flying squirrels in batman suits jump out of the glove compartment and give me a back massage and pedicure in order for me to describe it that way, right? I mean, you know me, and I don’t just give “amazing” away for anything. It has to be truly special. But, in reality, it really was. My driver’s name was Jorge, and he was so kind and empathetic and left me with such a good feeling about how the rest of the week was going to go. Jorge had lived in Vegas for over twenty years after moving there from Mexico City. He shared these detailed stories with me about how the city is changing every day and about how this week was going to be “my week”… and that the broken luggage would be the worst part. He said, “Vegas is your best friend, Miss. I promise you. It’s going to be there for you this week. This is a little bump. You’re going to have the week of your life. Trust Jorge. I am never wrong. I know my Vegas. You’re going to shine this week. Look at you. You’re shining now, Miss. You’re as bright as the strip at night. You’re a diamond. Trust Jorge. A diamond.”

While what Jorge said was likely a ploy to get a good tip (and he got one), I felt it in my bones. The man called me a diamond, for Pietro’s sake. He had no idea what business I was in. It was a sign! This was going to be the best Vegas week yet, from a professional and personal standpoint, and I could feel that he would be spot on. If you’re out there, Jorge, and you’re reading this, yo soy un diamante! Estás en lo correcto, Jorge! YO SOY UN DIAMANTE!

I’ll end this first tale there as it will serve as a good start to how the rest of the tales will go.

Tune in to the next installment to read about the first night in Vegas, which may or may not feature a bunch of middle-aged women, kissing Michael O’Connor and practically getting him pregnant, a speakeasy, a burlesque show, and “that kid from Ritani…”

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What's On the Brain

“What’s On the Brain?” May 2015 Edition: (More) Jewelry Fo Yo Momma

Oh, heyyyyyyyyy! Didja miss me? I’ve been busy, y’all! There’ve been conclaves to attend, and interviews to give, and podcasts to take part in, and trade media to piss off. Oh, that’s right, and there’s a little show called COUTURE coming up, so, you know, it’s practically a full-time gig trying to get ready for that, plus, there’s… um… this thing called MOTHERHOOD (which, by the way, is alcohol inducing) that’s kind of important, so, unfortunately the blog posts have had to take a back burner…

UNTIL NOW!

Remember what happened this time last year? You don’t? I don’t either because I was likely drunk but according to my WordPress stats, last year, right about this time, I wrote a post about what to get your moms on Mother’s Day, and guess what? YOU REALLY LIKED IT. I mean, it was one of my most popular posts in 2014, so I figured, what the hell? Why not give the public what they want? And when I realized that video of a shirtless Bradley Cooper eating ice cream in super slow motion was no longer available on YouTube, I decided to write a follow-up Mother’s Day gift guide instead. Read on, my minions. READ ON AND THANK ME IN THE MORNING.

Corporate Mom

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHA HAHAHA

momma1 - mikimoto pearls(Eh-hem [clears throat] ahem) Sorry. I had a brief moment there where I actually thought that mothers were allowed to hold executive positions. Aren’t I so cute and naïve? Actually, I’m messing with you, and if you’ve been following along to my #FiftyWomenofJewelry hashtag on social media channels everywhere, you’d have understood the reference and met it, likely, with an eye roll. ANYWHO, let’s get down to business, yeah? What would be a better Mother’s Day gift for the board room mom than pearls, right? I mean, pearls and power suits will win you a senate seat all day long, unless, of course, you’re someone with a brain who thinks critically, then you’re screwed. In any case, your “power mom” deserves a strand of black, South Sea pearls by Mikimoto like the ones you see pictured here. And if you can’t afford the 12,000.00 price tag because you’re a sophomore in college and had to sell your dirty underwear to the janitor in order to be able to buy yourself breakfast, just remember that you can always borrow the money from your super wealthy, powerful mother. She IS the CEO of her Fortune 500 company, after all.

Judgy McJudgerson Mom

momma1 - stfu necklace wendy brandesIf your mom spends too many hours posting scathing, anti-baby-formula rants on Similac forums, then she likely falls into this category. Still not sure if she does? Then ask yourself the following questions… “Does my mom make other moms feel guilty because their kids are in daycare instead of being homeschooled?” “Does the woman who breastfed me until I was nine remind me of that little morsel three times a week?” “Will my mother ever get over the fact that in 2011, I purchased a gallon of cow’s milk that wasn’t organic?” “Does my mom have a life?” If the answers to those questions are yes/yes/no/no, then welcome to Judgyhood, kid. Have I got a gift suggestion for you! This “STFU” necklace (and yes, it stands for exactly what you think it does) by writer-turned-jewelry designer, Wendy Brandes is the perfect thing to strangle surprise your darling mother with on her very special day.

Imma-Beat-Your-Ass-For-Throwing-Rocks-At-Cops Mom

Look, I’ve never been one to shy away from hot-button issues and this is no different. I will start this description by saying that I do not condone corporal punishment, however, having grown up in the projects of inner-city Philly, I definitely got my ass whooped by my mother once or thrice in my childhood, yet it was only when I did something stupid as shit, like, throw rocks at adults. Baltimore mother, Toya Graham, was caught on video recently teaching her teenage son some, let’s call them, “manners” via a few slaps upside the head. I’ve got to be honest here… momma1 - seaman schepps gold link braceletI saw the video, and while some in the media are calling it a travesty, I’m pretty sure his ego was more bruised than he was in the end. In any case, what I did notice was that Toya was sporting some kick-ass gold jewelry while swinging, which made me think about what her son could buy for her the next time he even thinks about rioting or looting while on camera. This classic gold link bracelet by Seaman Schepps is affordable as well as practical, yet it’s also solid enough that it won’t dent when being smashed into a face. Score!

Bestie Mom

momma1 - jen meyer piece of my heart pendantsIf you and your mom have had the same haircut since you were in the third grade and if she’s never missed an opportunity to hit the outlets with you, then face it… she’s your “bestie.” And hey, there’s not a damned thing wrong with that. These “Piece of My Heart” pave diamond pendants by celebrity jewelry designer, Jennifer Meyer, are elegant and understated, yet they show the world that you are loved by someone else just as much as you love them. So sweet. So nauseatingly yet adorably but still mostly nauseatingly sweet.

Rockin’ Six Pack Mom

momma1 - amrit jewelry body chainMoms today are NOT your mother’s mothers, I can tell you that. Not only are we moms hyper-focused on having it all, doing it all, and being it all, we’re also hyper-focused on all of that shit while still looking good naked. So if your mom (or wife, or baby momma) occasionally sports a midriff to the dismay of her offspring everywhere, think about buying her a sexy-as-hell body chain by Amrit Jewelry in Los Angeles. Now, I know you just cringed when you read the words “mom” and “sexy” in the same sentence, but you’ve got to get over it. Every single one of your college friends wants to do your mom right now, dude, I promise you. Just don’t ever walk into the laundry room if you hear strange noises while home on Spring break. Take it from someone who knows, it’s *not* the dryer.

Scotch Drinking Mom

Whaaat? Oh, COME ON! I had to throw myself a bone, here!

momma1 - jaeger lecoultre grand reverso ultra thinIf your mother drinks Scotch, she’s a badass. If she drinks it neat, she’s a super BAAAADDAAAASSS. Scotch-drinking mommas are in control; they savor the finer things in life. They know what they want and figure out a way to get it every freaking time. They don’t take “no” for an answer. They refuse to be afraid. They live for adventures and challenge the norm. But mostly, they want a new watch. Really, I swear! Scotch-drinking mothers always want a new watch. I did a report on it in college (editor’s note: that’s a lie. I never even went to college.) And because they drink good Scotch, they’re expecting you to get a good watch (see how I rhymed that? So clever.) This Jaeger-LeCoultre Grande Reverso Ultra Thin has a strap that’s the same color as an eighteen-year Oban. I mean, hello?? Could you get more appropriate? It’s kismet! And I better receive it. I mean, she better. Your mom, I mean. Unless I’m your mom, in which case, you’re way too young to be reading this blog.

For those who haven’t closed your browser by now, I thank you for reading today’s Mother’s Day Gift Guide, and I welcome you to stick around, because Jewelry Week is coming up, and I’ll be doing a “Tales From the Strip” series, version 2015.

See you in VEGAS!

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