If you follow the fashion press, you may recently have come across the term, “arm parties.” Coined, as it turns out, by the Man Repeller. And if you haven’t read her ridiculously funny and brilliant blog, you might as well take a look.
But arm parties are making their way beyond fashion insiders to us women of a certain age. Last week, Sande at “A Gift-Wrapped Life” posted about the trend.
OK then. Arm parties it is. In a quiet way. My arm party probably takes place in the afternoon, avec string quartet. Here are all the gold-toned bracelets I own. Except this family piece, which is kind of a party all on its own.
I don’t put my watch on the invitation list because I’m afraid of scratching its crystal face. The transparent, in body or spirit, often gets damaged at wild parties. The pink and gold bead necklace could be wrapped as a bracelet, but would require someone more tolerant of accessory fidgeting than I. And although the ivory cuff is 30 years old, from elephants who died before the ban, I still can’t bring myself to put it on. What does one do with the spoils of colonialism and species trivialization? No such thing as recycling dishonor.
But I will wear, proudly, the red, white and blue family commemoration of the Great War’s end. And the banged-up oval given me by my parents as an 8th-grade graduation present. To say nothing of the 5 gold bangles – twisted, textured, plain – I bought when I returned from India, in an attempt to capture that adventure. And a red gold heart link bracelet from Chinatown.
My arm party is perhaps overly intellectual. Character will out. But nobody has to know the big words jingling in my bangles. Parties are like that. The general clink and hubbub wash out our differences in a shared wave of festivity.
Best of all, arm parties are fun, flexible, and non-committal. Wear with jeans and a tee, a classic dress like this, or as part of a multi-patterned gypsy dancer harem pants and jeweled sandals outfit. Like the perfect high school boyfriends, easily found, easily put aside.