Other than a watch, I’ve never worn jewelry of any kind. But when I was on vacation in the Catskills last summer I bought a bracelet. I hoped it would change my life.
My friend Matt and I had stopped in to visit his friend, Pedro, on the way to dinner. Pedro was just closing his jewelry shop on Narrowsburg, New York’s charming Main Street overlooking the Delaware River. It had been a slow day, and Pedro jumped at the chance to show us his creations as he removed them from their Plexiglas display cases.
Tall, bald, with a thick German accent and dressed in black jeans and turtleneck now is the time on Sprockets when we dance. Pedro was confident in his talent. He had settled in Narrowsburg after creating jewelry for Tiffany, Paloma Picasso and Elsa Peretti in London and New York.
Pedro is a master at shaping metal. His pins, bracelets and necklaces featured magnificent jewels, but their beauty was overshadowed by the surrounding metalwork: original, confident and delightfully sculptural. Most striking of all were some pieces including one worn by Pedro that looked like they came from Tiffany’s S/M dungeon.
I admired a bracelet of stainless steel loops with pointed edges, and Pedro slipped it on me. I liked the way it looked and the way it made me feel masculine, edgy, with a back story worthy of a magazine model.
Something about you changed when you put that bracelet on, Pedro said. Did you feel it?
On impulse I bought the budget-busting bracelet, hoping it would serve as a talisman that would connect me with the way I felt that evening after a week in New York City followed by a week meditating in the mountains. If the bracelet empowered me, it would be worth the price.
I’ve used clothing this way before. (At the risk of sounding like Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada, isn’t that what fashion is all about?) In college I grew my hair to reject my straight-laced high school self. A decade later I switched to suspenders and a bow tie as a shortcut to maturity. Two decades after that I started wearing a dashiki (Asian full-length shirt-robe) around the house to inhabit a budding Eastern-influenced spirituality. It drew curious looks from the neighbors when I walked my dog.
I wore my sexy, Gothic man-bracelet religiously for a few weeks, then it tapered off to evenings and weekends and now I most often forget it as an option. But I’m not remorseful. Clothing and accessories are no shortcut to metaphysical maturity. But there’s nothing wrong with stroking that impulse from time to time.
In fact, as we look back at the most memorable moments of 2013, it’s also important to consider markers on our internal journey.
2013 has been extraordinary, and this Year In Review’s issue of Watermark takes note of significant political and cultural events. But when I started Watermark 20 years ago, I hoped it would also reflect the rich internal lives of our readers. In driving change, this very personal process is just as important as any rally or court decision or election. It’s just harder to see, and sometimes more difficult to monitor.
As members of the LGBT community, we get a head start on that all-important journey towards self-actualization. Our difference forces us to reconsider our lives; to evaluate what’s working and what isn’t. Hopefully, this begins a life-long pattern of self-analysis and improvement. As a result, we’re changing the world.
It’s fun to set goals at the beginning of a new year. Next November we could elect the first Democrat as governor of Florida in 16 years. An increasingly moderate state legislature could pass a statewide Domestic Partner Registry. Important court cases loom. And organizers of local Pride events and non-profits have ambitious plans to expand on recent successes.
But none of this is sustainable without the kind of internal progress that makes us more open, optimistic, confident and connected. So as you look ahead, remember to evaluate what’s working in your life and what isn’t and set individual goals accordingly.
If you have to buy some clothes as a kick start, go for it. As for me, I intend to put my bracelet back on and see where it takes me.
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