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That sparkle on your finger can become the twinkle in the eyes of future generations, writes Louise Broadhurst I WAS 12 years old when my aunt gave me the three gold bangles that her late husband had bought her when they Gold Shiny Metallic Sexy Dress honeymooned in Paris. The bracelets were reassuringly solid and jangled pleasingly when I walked. Wearing them made me feel instantly grown up. I thought I looked like Sophia Loren in her 1950s heyday, a bronzed seductress kissed with gold. But there was more to their splendour in my adolescent eyes than just the gypsy chic sophistication they added to my look. To my young mind, these bangles were imbued with more romance than a Mills & Boon novel; they represented my aunt's great love affair with the man she married, my uncle Gerry, my mother's handsome, funny older brother who had died, to our great shock, of a heart attack two years previously. The bracelets were a powerful totem, objects that represented his feelings for my aunt. They were a treasure for me to keep forever, to remind me of them both. So when our house was broken into and they were stolen, I was devastated. That the thieves pinched cash, the stereo and some wine from our cellar didn't matter so much. Even the loss of a favourite leather coat of my mother's failed to stir a major reaction. ''Who cares?'' she insisted: she was always good in a crisis. ''The lining was ripped. And I can buy a new one with the insurance money.'' But how to buy three new gold bangles that meant as much as those I'd lost? The emotional power of jewellery lies in its ability to somehow capture the essence of those who give it, and those who wear it. It's a material thing with a magical side, an inanimate object that can radiate all sorts of meanings. It can be a token of love or friendship, or a memento by which we remember someone dear to us. Did you catch the recent romantic comedy Knocked Up? There's a scene in which Ben proposes to Alison, the girl he made pregnant in a one-night stand. He gets down on one knee, presents her with an empty box and tells her that one day, when he has the money, he will fill it with the ring she deserves. Nice. Needless to say, her answer is no. On the occasion of an engagement,Gold Shiny Metallic Sexy Four-Set Costum the ring is a sign of serious intent; at a wedding, it's one of the symbols that seals a deal. An empty box, well, it's not quite the same. Although jewellery can be a high-fashion statement -- think the crystal-strewn resin cuffs and outsized faux pearls made by Chanel, and Dior's extravagant cocktail rings -- it can also transcend trends. Many women wear the same locket, bracelet or rings for a lifetime, even as they change their wardrobes each season. Fine jewellery is expensive. It's a genuine luxury in a world in which that term is used to describe everything from chocolate to lipstick. Jewellery remains one of the few things in modern life that we don't simply throw away when we tire of it. A diamond, as they say, is forever. Why not a gold bangle too? The trinkets in your jewellery box really are your personal treasure. When someone you adore gives you a necklace, you think of them each time you wear it. If a friend or a relative were to leave you her engagement ring in her will, it would take on huge importance. It matters who gives a jewel to you, and who owned it before you. As Mae West once said: ''I have always felt a gift diamond shines so much better than one you buy for yourself.'' My mother also lost jewellery in that burglary, although thankfully she was wearing her watch, her beloved ruby pendant and all of her rings when the thieves struck. Not so lucky were the diamond studs my father had given her that Christmas: she kept them for special occasions, gleaming magically in their blue Zentai 's box. These were replaceable, they were insured, they were not antiques, and the man who chose them was still around to shop again. Countless similar versions of those earrings sparkled in the Zentai 's store up town, and indeed Dad went right back there and bought her a new pair, not long after the glass had been replaced in our shattered kitchen window. The police never found our burglars and eventually we all settled back into the old routines, although my father and brother were noticeably more vigilant about locking up the house. Two decades later I was on my own honeymoon in Paris, three diamonds in a neat row glinting on the ring finger of my left hand. We were as happy as can be, my husband, my diamonds and me. The diamonds (helped along by our enthusiastic displays of newlywed affection) drew admiring glances and kind comments wherever we went. I loved their beauty, their clarity and the way they caught the light, but mainly I loved what they meant: that my man had chosen me, and I him. One glittering bright morning as we strolled through the streets, the window of an antiques store caught my eye. There among the old medals and snuffboxes, the brooches and cufflinks, were three solid-looking, oval bangles. They were silver, not gold, but there was something about their shape that reminded me of the ones I'd lost all those years ago. We entered the store, I Gold Shiny Metallic Sexy Gallus Dress tried them on and they fitted -- and jangled -- just so. I didn't tell my husband about Gerry and the burgled bracelets: there was plenty of time for all that later. ''They are beautiful, just like you,'' he said. ''We'll take them.'' We smiled as the shopkeeper wrapped them up. And in that moment, I fancied that my uncle was looking on somehow and smiling his approval. We were making our own history, with a nod towards his. And, one day, I will pass my bangles on to someone else I love. I don't know who or when or how, but I know what I will tell them about my honeymoon, and about love. As the bangles jangle, they will speak of it for years to come.
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