I didn't really get into wearing rings until a couple years ago. Growing up, I was more interested in dangly earrings, friendship bracelets, and anything sterling silver I could get my hands on. Gold was for old ladies who didn't take their wedding rings off when they slept and Italian dads with hairy chests I would see at the pool.
My first gold ring was my birthstone, the Peridot (a highly underrated gemstone). It was in the shape of a heart, flanked by two tiny diamonds on a gold band. This was the early '90s when I didn't appreciate eating S'more Pop Tarts for breakfast without any lasting effects...much less the gift of gold. Over the years, I received a cross necklace marking my confirmation in the Methodist Church and my grandma's heart-shaped locket — turning me on to gold once and for all. Now, I can't get enough of it. Gold chains, gold hoops, gold watches, gold rings — gold is king.
My Nana always told me I had piano fingers. Long, lean — some might say boney — they are perfect for my favorite pastimes of drawing, typing, and holding long wine glass stems. They are also extremely skinny, making it virtually impossible to buy a ring off the rack. The only one that has ever fit without adjustment is the gold rope band Nana bought me at our church's annual craft fair, which I wear on my right ring finger to this day. This under-$10 treasure has yet to tarnish and is one of the few remaining pieces of jewelry from my childhood that hasn't disappeared over the years.
To keep up with my high/lo style, I pair my craft fair find with a thin black and white diamond band. This wedding band-esque Ariel Gordon piece was an impulse buy acquired on a shopping spree that reminds me of my success, independence, and loyalty to #1 (me). Ha ha, kidding. Kind of.
A few years back when I discovered Ariel Gordon Jewelry, I quickly became enthralled with her line and its delicate gold pieces (I have my eye on the bunny menagerie necklace if anyone's asking). My first purchase was a size 4.25 rose gold heart knuckle/pinkie ring. Some may think rose gold is the stepchild of gold, but in reality, it is the shit. My tiny heart ring has special significance, as its twin is worn by one of my closest girlfriends living in France. Every time I look at it, I think of her.
The final prize for my digits came the following year, custom-sized by Ariel for my baby hands. On my middle finger, I aptly wear her "slim singlet" engraved with my initials, AJ, for Alison Jane. The only people who have ever called me this are my parents, one of my aunts, and a few special people in my life. And hailing from the South, I covet anything I can easily monogram. In addition to promoting my personal brand, the singlet nestles comfortably under the my grandmother's oversized amethyst ornament I occasionally wear when I'm feeling extra old-lady chic (which is often).
I plan on continuing to add to my golden collection, possibly taking the party to my left hand. But for now, every morning when I put on my rings, I am reminded of the small pieces of my life that make me whole. A whole person bathed in gold.