Read My Pins_ Stories From a Diplomat's Jewel Box - Madeleine Albright [13]
THE TRUSTEES OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM
Knot of Hercules, Ilias Lalaounis.
THE TRUSTEES OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM
This gold brooch-clip is decorated with a winged chimaera, a beast that was popular in Etruscan mythology. Etruscan, circa 525–500 BC. Courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum.
The concept of the safety pin—in which a needle-like shaft, a hinge, and a sheath combine to secure an object—dates back to ancient Crete, the home turf of Theseus and his ill-tempered Minotaur. Metalsmiths in pre-Christian Etruria (present-day Tuscany) skillfully shaped such pins into the form of lions, horses, or the Sphinx before adding the frosting: tiny granules of gold. The brooch-clip, which clenches the fabric rather than piercing it, has been used widely since the 1930s. I cite this history to prove that I could not possibly have been the first person to be publicly embarrassed by a pin that came undone in a moment of need.
In December 1996, President Clinton nominated me to serve as America’s sixty-fourth secretary of state. For the announcement, I wore one of my pins as a pendant. Liberty Eagle, Ann Hand.
AP/WIDEWORLD PHOTOS
On January 23, 1997, shortly before noon, I was sworn in as secretary of state, the first woman to hold that position. Ever since, people have asked what I was feeling at the time. The answer is that my attention was divided between the drama of the moment and the possibility that my pin would fall off, landing on the floor in front of President Clinton and the assembled cameras. I had been introduced to the pin weeks earlier at the Tiny Jewel Box. Jim Rosenheim, one of the proprietors, brought it to me as soon as I walked in, saying he had acquired the piece with me in mind. The brooch is antique, French, and composed of rose-cut diamonds and a gold eagle with widespread wings. It was love at first sight, but I balked at the cost. Saying no to Jim, I inwardly promised to reverse that decision should I be named secretary of state, then a possibility but hardly a likelihood.
When that possibility became reality, I bought the eagle and chose to wear it for the first time at the swearing in. What I failed to notice was that the clasp was not only old but also complicated; fastening it was a multistep process that I neglected to complete. All seemed well until I had one hand on the Bible and the other in the air. Then, a glance down revealed the pin hanging sideways. With all the hubbub, I had no time to correct the problem until after most of the photos were taken, showing my beautiful pin only in profile, contributing nothing to the symbolism of the moment but much to my angst. Years later, when publishing my memoirs, I tried to make amends by wearing the eagle—properly fastened—on the cover.
COURTESY OF WILLIAM J. CLINTON PRESIDENTIAL LIBRARY/CALLIE SHELL
By tradition, it is the vice president, not the president, who administers the oath of office to a cabinet member. Here, the president looks on as Al Gore and I get in some practice just outside the Oval Office. At that point, my eagle pin was still secure.
COURTESY OF WILLIAM J. CLINTON PRESIDENTIAL LIBRARY/RALPH ALSWANG
Flanked by President Clinton and Vice President Gore, I deliver remarks following my swearing in. My precious eagle is barely hanging on. Secretary of State Diamond Eagle, designer unknown.
COURTESY OF WILLIAM J. CLINTON PRESIDENTIAL LIBRARY/BARBARA KINNEY
During an overseas trip, I needed to confer privately with First Lady Hillary Rodham Clinton. Where better than the ladies’ room? I was proud to be the first woman to serve as secretary of state and delighted when Secretary Clinton became one of my successors. Opposite is a pin showing the glass ceiling