This post is a challenge for my writing friends. Tell me what your jewelry box says about you.

If you don’t have a jewelry box, even if you’re a male, that says something, too.

The first thing I thought of was a bracelet I threw out when I cleaned out my jewelry box for donation to Goodwill. It was woven of beach grass from the sandy “lawn” in front of my grandparents’ beach house. If I were growing up today, I probably wouldn’t weave such a bracelet because beach grass is endangered. Anyway, it’s amazing that my bracelet survived for some 20 or 30 years.

I don’t have a jewelry box any more. As the Imelda Marcos of earrings, I have ten ice cube trays of earrings sorted by color. Maybe four of them are devoted to my un-pierced earrings, which I’m having difficulty giving away. I developed a good collection of them when I lived in Japan. Japanese women didn’t pierce their ears back then, so their stores sold a great array of unpierced earrings.

I’ve sorted my other jewelry into the kind of boxes you can buy at The Container Store. I wear that stuff much less frequently than earrings. Earrings seem to help my face. It’s odd that my mother rarely wore earrings, but had many, many necklaces.