Letting Go of My Emotional Support Beads

There’s often a bittersweet moment when some of my old beads find a buyer. By “old beads” I mean not just actual antiquities, but also strands that I’ve always really liked, but which hadn’t immediately sailed off the shelves ten minutes after I listed them with shouts for more, MORE! (Tho this has actually happened.)  

No, I’m talking about pieces that have been with me awhile. 

Once I list an item for sale, I typically put it away and forget about it until it’s summoned through the magic of Etsy.  Sometimes it’s a week. Sometimes it’s a five hundred billion years.

 

But every so often I’ll encounter a piece I haven’t seen in a year or longer, and it’s always like bumping into an old friend. I’ll inspect the connections, make sure the crimps haven’t slipped, that sort of thing. Every so often one of them will see daylight if I wear it somewhere. I figure it never hurts to advertise, and I’m surprised at the number of people who will comment on some of it — sometimes even favorably, lulz. 

This 3-strand set is one such item. 

From the Catalog: 

"This beautiful strand of antique mixed clay Aja Chevron beads are rare and hard to find, as distinguished from Venetian glass, and still very structurally durable at their current age and prior use. These beads were made sometime in the 1700s in Venice, Italy and traded in Wes Africa. These are 4 layers of glass that were hand cut and polished to create the beautiful chevron design. Some beads have minor pitting and small chips, but this only adds to the beauty of their very old vintage age." 

Such is my madness that I concur. 

These were among my first forays into old beads. They were a bit outside my comfort zone price wise for the time, but I just had to have them. Something about the colors and the history and the oldee-age-y-antique feel of them just captivated me. This was during Covid, in that surreal and nightmarish period after my parents died, when it felt putting beads on a string was the only thing carrying me through the hours of the day: one bead, one minute at a time. .

I was smitten with these beads from the minute they arrived, and I’ve loved them ever since. I have no idea why beads, and some beads in particular, affect me this way, and I’ve stopped asking. My therapist mumbled something once about random associations and dopamine triggers, but whatever. 

Now, happy-sadly, these lovelies are off to their next home, to a discerning buyer with not only excellent taste in craftsmanship and design (ahem), but also a discerning eye for the insanely collectable bead market (who knew!?) I’ll just add, they got them for a steal. 

Off then my darlings, off with my authentic and wonderfully age-patina’d antique clay Aja Chevron beads! May you bring much joy.