Costume Chic

When we were kids, my cousins found buried treasure in their backyard on a weekly basis. I found mine in my grandmother's jewelry case.

It was just a Samsonite box of molded plastic and aluminum, but what wonders it contained! Sure, they were only faux pearls, bakelite beads, rhinestones, paste gems and what-nots, but to me, it might as well have been the Windsors' crown jewels. And when Nanay let me wear them, I felt like the Princess of Wales.

I especially loved my grandmother's gold cuff, encrusted with huge glass sapphires and emeralds. It was an ostentatious piece, a show stopper (probably a peace offering from my grandfather after one of his many indiscretions), and she never found the occasion for it.

(I remember hanging on to it, thinking I would find the perfect occasion one day. Then I went through an extended biker chic phase, and in a fit of stupidity, I gave it away.)


Perhaps post-Victorian women felt the same ambivalence towards Coco Chanel's and Jean Patou's first lines of couturier jewelry. In The Handbook of Style: Expert Fashion and Beauty Advice Every Woman Should Know, Jill Alberts said of their creations:

"The simplicity of their linear designs required more flamboyant accessories, so they created exaggerated jewelry to go with their new clothing. The fashion break with the repressed Victorian jewelry is so opulent, like Chanel's ropes of oversized pearls studded with stones and beads. There was something a little vulgar about wearing such obviously faux jewelry, and it was a big step for women to embrace 'fake jewels.'"

But once they did, they discovered the joy of costume.

As Chanel declared, "There is no such thing as fake chic."