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“If I can’t be your love, then let me be a simple brooch so I may rest a while against your chest. If I can’t be your love, then let me be a forgotten coin so I may rest a while against your thigh. If I can’t be your love, then let me be an unlit cigarette so I may rest a while in between your lips. If I can’t be your love, then let me at least remain in these words so I may rest a while in your thoughts.”
Kamand Kojouri“My wedding was at home, so I didn't really want to wear a veil in my house. Instead I wore a lot of diamond hair clips. They were brooches, actually, designed by Lorraine Schwartz.”
Georgina Chapman“Master Griffin, I would marry my own mother for the excuse to stab my eyes out with her brooches than to see anything under your kilt," the man's voice said with an elegant aplomb. "Where would you like your guest's things, sir?”
Tiffany Reisz, The Angel“Two women at the same event wearing the same outfit is a disaster. But two women at the same event singing the same song is a party. And two women at the same event talking about Doris from Fame is a friendship for life. Fill yourself with words, choruses, and heroes, like you're supposed to fill your wardrobe with shoes, brooches, and belts.”
Caitlin Moran, Moranifesto“Pregnancy had seemed a reasonable excuse for letting her metal-smithing tools languish, but that accounted for only eighteen months of the last twenty-six years. Motherhood wasn't the real problem, though it took him a long time to figure out what was. She needed resistance, the very quality that metal most demonstrably offered up. Suddenly Glynis had no difficulty to overcome, no hard artisan's life with galleries filching half the too-small price of a mokume brooch that had taken three weeks to forge. No, her husband made a good living, and if she slept late and dawdled the afternoon away reading Lustre, American Craft Magazine and Lapidary Journal, the phone bill would still get paid. For that matter, she needed need itself. She could overcome her anguish about embarking on an object that, once completed, might not meet her exacting standards only if she had no choice. In this sense, his helping had hurt her. By providing the financial cushion that should have facilitated making all the metal whathaveyou she liked, he had ruined her life. Wrapped in a slackening bow, ease was a poisonous present.”
Lionel Shriver, So Much for That“Don't read their rubbish... Read mine ☺️”
Jacqueline Creek, The Girl with the Emerald Brooch: Growing up: 1954 - 1965