Real Estate, or The Long and Short of It

 “I don’t know if there are enough beads,” said Carolyn.  

She was right. There were a lot missing.

We talked about a couple solutions:  

a) Rebuild the necklace, keeping the design intact but making the bottom section on each side two-strand rather than four-strand; or 

b) Make the right side of Section One the center—in which case, we’d end up with two sections, not three, on each side.

We were also talking about a couple of pearl necklaces—one of which you’ve just seen—and what came out in conversation was that Carolyn didn’t really like wearing long necklaces. She prefers chokers.  

The challenge now became how to keep the spirit of the original necklace at the shorter length. We often use the expression “writ large” to describe something that has been expanded to a larger scale. In this case, the necklace needed to be writ small.

The center of the original necklace featured lapis, coral, and turquoise in a 4-2-2-4 pattern. Turquoise and coral make a winning combination (ever visit the Southwest?) and these stones are also wonderful with lapis, but there wasn’t enough turquoise or enough “real estate”—i.e., space to work with—for that to work in the new choker.

I turned my attention to the other segments. The segment after the center one had a 6-4-6 pattern, and the top of the necklace had a 5-4-5 pattern. Those color “bands,” that color balance, needed to be maintained or the choker would be missing the “feel” of the original. Carolyn also mentioned that she would like all the lapis discs (often called “lentils”) to be used in the necklace, and she wanted to use the silver beads, too, if possible.

I tested a few versions of the color bands and decided that alternating a 2-1-2 and 3-2-3 pattern would best serve our purposes.  

Drumroll, please.

And that’s the long and short of it!  

©2018 Laynie Tzena. 

Expect the Unexpected

Janet said she'd brought back malachite from Fez, and I said thanks. But as soon as I took one look I knew it was fossil.

I was equally sure about Willow's beautiful wood, formerly three-strand necklace.


Which is actually copal, sometimes called "copal amber." (This is why my team includes gemologists, appraisers, stone-cutters, and people who buy and sell stone. I was right about the "malachite," though. Fossil, sho'nuff.)

"Hang on. Did you just say amber?"

Copal.  Sometimes called "copal amber," but that's actually a misnomer.  Copal is not amber.

"But wait. Didn't Willow send you a bracelet and some loose beads? And didn't you have half a strand of some beads in that color family on hand, and some copal, too, from somewhere eons ago?"

Yup.



"Great. Looks like you've got enough of everything."

But no. That would be too easy. (And neither of us wanted to take apart that beautiful bracelet, if it could be avoided.)

So this project was more complicated than it seemed at first glance. Here are the main challenges:

1. It's multi-strand, which means, in this case, three different lengths, and the measurement of each one must be exact or the strands won't sit right on the neck.

2. The beads are graduated, which means you have to keep to the same proportions or the necklace won't be balanced. You can't just add a few beads here and there.

3. Light and dark hues of that beautiful yellow-brown alternate in the necklace, and that variation has to be respected or the color will look wrong. (You can go lighter or darker within the same color family, but you can't interrupt the color alternation.)

4. Copal is not easy to find in this shape and size. If you can find it, it can be veddy expensive.

Other than that, a piece of cake. (Or shortbread, which is what Willow's company, Heritage Shortbread, makes a particularly yummy version of back in South Carolina [we'd met at a trade show]. I mention this for you folks outside the Bay Area. Just gently pack the patient and send it along. Do call me first, though, so I know it's coming.)

So I was stumped once again. But I am too stubborn to quit. So I kept trying different options: wood beads, amber, copper, even buttons. Nothing worked.

But life always intervenes. And so it was that, after trying said bazillion different options, each of which had problems, and emailing Willow to say the patient was not responding but the doctor had not given up, on a very hot day (which we rarely get in San Francisco) when I was supposed to be somewhere else, I walked into one of my favorite shops and found lovely brass barrels that, with the dipped glass beads I had on hand from I still don't remember where (I think I've had them for years) solved the problem.


To be specific: I changed the 4-5-6 pattern at the top of the original necklace to 3-4-5 and built a new top for the necklace using a 1-2-3 pattern of dipped glass beads following the brass barrels, and everyone was happy ever after.

Big thanks to Susan and Haley.

©2010, 2014, 2015 Laynie Tzena.

Time Travel

Once upon a time, a woman had a beautiful five-strand pearl necklace. She wore it often. This was the "Jazz Age," and faux pearls were all the rage. Karl Lagerfeld designed with them.

But alas, the pearl necklace broke one day. And she never wore it again. When she died, "Grandmother's pearl necklace" was given to Carrie. Who brought it to me.

At first, we thought we'd just make it into a three-strand necklace. Surely there were enough loose pearls to do that. But no. This is a graduated pearl necklace, and the remaining pearls weren't all of the right size. We needed more pearls. Graduated faux pearls. From that time period. In the same color family. I looked hither and thither and what do you know?

Then one day Carrie took out a sheet of notebook paper and made a sketch of a pair of earrings she had seen someone wearing. I used that drawing as a starting point for these earrings, which accompany a graduated bracelet that seemed only fitting to go with her necklace.

Turned out we also had enough pearls for a graduated single-strand necklace to go with her bracelet.

Last but not least, Carrie had mentioned that her grandmother grew roses. So some of the remaining pearls show up here:

And here:



Carrie tells me her father and uncle were amazed to see the restored necklace. The last person they'd seen wearing those pearls, of course, was their mother--"Grandmother," to Carrie.

©2009-2015 Laynie Tzena.

The Doctor Will See You Now

Let's start here.



Each person's style is different. Helen could have said, "I want you to rebuild this bracelet exactly the way it was." And, assuming she had all of the loose coral or I could get the same shade of salmon coral* from my sources, that's what we would have done.

But she didn't say that.

She said, "What can we do with this? It just isn't me."

So we talked about her style, the kind of jewelry she likes to wear, what she thought she'd like. She decided she wanted a necklace and earrings. Something classic.

So I designed this for her.



She was very happy.

And we had coral left over.

So I designed the bracelet to match the necklace.

And we still had coral left over.

So we put our heads together about what to do next. And Helen said, "This time I want something funky."

And I designed this set with birch, copper, and one of my favorite gemstones, unakite, to go with the remaining coral.



And you know what? We still have some coral. No immediate plans.

*Yes, I know some coral is endangered. I don't design with that coral for my collection. If someone asked for a three-strand set like the one in the picture, I'd use sponge coral or would recommend using lapis, onyx, or red tiger's eye, all of which are plentiful. In this case, the coral buying was done many years ago, when coral was not endangered. We didn't buy any for the re-design; in fact, we ended up with extra!

©2009, 2019 Laynie Tzena.