One of my best friends has a Cartier love bracelet. It's golden and simple and true, it doesn't mess around and it never leaves her wrist. It has history - as all love bracelets ought to have if they possibly can, this isn't the kind of thing you can buy for yourself, at least not when you're 21 and they cost $4000 - and significance, and it was a bitch to get on: the both of us sitting on my bed, me twisting her arm around so I could get that tiny little screw driver into the hinge. We must have looked funny, the two of us, an unlikely pair. But it hasn't changed my love of the bracelet. One day, not now but one day (maybe on the same day I stroll up to the Repossi boutique in the place Vendome and buy myself a diamond-encrusted ear cuff) I'll have a Cartier love bracelet. It's an old idea, that you should wear something that's locked to you to show that you're someone else's. I'm not sure I agree with that, not really, not even in the depths of my romanticism. My friend actually got hers from her father, and I've got another who received one from a sister and vice versa. Wearing something that celebrates love, because you love it, because someone loves you, now that I can get behind.
X
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