Thursday, August 26, 2010

Something New and Sparkly - Carnival Fun Necklace

Carnival Fun Necklace,

Isn't this fun? After I finished my candy-colored-ribbon-and-pompom-embellished Carnival Magic Necklace a few weeks back, I knew there would be others. So, hot off my Corsage Necklace kick and armed with my recently-acquired cache of close-out Faux Show pendants, I made my second necklace in the carnival series, the aptly named Carnival Fun Necklace,
I began by stringing the beads on silver tone wire, then paused to build a mini corsage. I mounted ribbons, pompoms, and rhinestones on felt with permanent adhesive glue (powerful stuff that nearly melts your skin) and attached it, sandwich style, to the necklace, with the wire and glue in the middle, just like ham and cheese. Next, I strung on the Faux Show pendant, struck by the jarring effect of the 1980s-looking square accent smashed up against the homemade corsage.
Recently, it occurred to me that there's an awful lot of circus-slash-carnival imagery running through my work (Acid bright colors, check. In-your-face sparkle, check. Cartoonish junk food, check. Embellishment overload, check.). Truth be told, I probably should have named my Etsy shop The Circus Trousseau instead of The Tote Trove. "Circus trousseau" is the phrase my mom uses to refer to my wardrobe (affectionately, I think. My mom, by the way, is probably the only person I know who uses bigger words and more flowery phrases than I do. You can thank her for this blog). Anyway, Circus Trousseau is a snappy, all-encompassing name that more accurately describes what my shop now has to offer. Maybe some day you'll open my Etsy shop or blog and see it emblazoned across my banner. Then again, that would involve a lot of red tape, including a call to the IRS. So maybe not.
I feel the need to tell you that I don't actually like the circus. Or carnivals. I find them dirty, seedy, and depressing. It's the idea of them that fascinates me, the promise of a self-contained world buzzing with fun and color and engaging characters plumed in spectacular costumes. I feel much the same way about flea markets. To me, the phrase conjures images of tables laden with obscure treasures rescued from foreclosed boutiques and the attics of eccentric collectors. But the reality is unscruplous types hawking rusted lawn equipment and crates full of cleaning supplies. That having been said, I like to stick to the circus in my mind, a benignly imaginative universe where everyone eats ice cream all day without gaining weight and runs around bedecked in my outrageously funky jewelry. A girl can dream, can't she?

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