On September 8, I awoke with a start...
Overly dramatic. Start over.
On September 8 something compelled me to want a black plastic link necklace similar to the ones all over the place a few years ago, but I wanted mine choker length.
This is not the first time this has happened, an insatiable craving for no apparent reason, as all-consuming as a pregnant woman craving strawberries (that was me also).
I logged onto ebay and a few minutes later found the exact item, as if Sister Style had laid it there at my feet as an offering, for $9.95/no bids and only a few hours to go. I won it. I bought it. It arrived (beautifully gift-wrapped by the seller I might add) a few days later. I think I wore the necklace right away then put it in a drawer. It's great, but I have to work it into my wardrobe. For now I am just satisfied to own it.
So I'm reading the New York Times Style section from September 29 this very afternoon. I love this Thursday section in the paper, referred to by my husband as "Women's Sports". Somehow this edition got stuck in a seat cushion, because today was the first I'd seen it. And there on page E5 in the "Browsing" column is a picture of a plastic link necklace in choker length by jewelry designer Diana Broussard "inspired by the graphic gold chains of the late 1970s and made in Italy in lightweight plexiglass" for $250.
Let us do the math. I bought my necklace 21 days before Erica Blumenthal even wrote about it. Erica and I have never spoken or met, let alone discussed plastic chain necklaces. With shipping I paid $236 less than Diana's Broussard's offering (before tax).
These things happen— a lot. Unfortunately my husband has another expression too: "that and $2.50 will get you on the subway."