Read My Pins_ Stories From a Diplomat's Jewel Box - Madeleine Albright [9]
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION NATIONAL MUSEUM OF AMERICAN HISTORY
The silver Jailed for Freedom pin was awarded to suffragettes who were imprisoned after picketing in front of the White House in 1917. Jailed for Freedom, Nina Evans Allender and Alice Paul. Courtesy of Smithsonian Institution National Museum of American History.
In my case, I didn’t have a special color, didn’t dress as Saint Joan, didn’t go to jail, and didn’t think of myself as belonging to a movement. Instead, I was in my mid-forties and venturing from marriage into—for the first time—the status of a fully grown, unattached adult. Although medals, ribbons, T-shirts, hats, and, I suppose, tattoos were optional means of expression, I found myself frequently turning to pins or brooches. I preferred them to necklaces because a perfectly presentable pin is less expensive than a comparable necklace. I also preferred pins because for years I did not want to wear a ring. In fact, the only one I felt comfortable wearing was purchased in the Philippines and made of black onyx. My thinking at the time was that every divorced woman should wear a black ring.
The fashions of the 1980s have been described as postfeminist, which was fine with me since I had largely missed out on the earlier phases. The idea was that a woman could show independence from stereotypes without eschewing ornamentation; it was no longer thought essential to dress plainly in order to be taken seriously or to imply that wearing earrings made one unable to think. Since women were making inroads in business and the professions, power jackets and pantsuits came into style. The brooch was a natural accompaniment.
During my first decade of postmarital independence, I taught world affairs at Georgetown University and advised presidential candidates, most of whom lost. I also dated and shopped quite a bit. This is when I discovered the Tiny Jewel Box, a boutique situated on Connecticut Avenue in Washington’s busiest commercial district. The store is actually more narrow than tiny. It advertises itself as “six intimate floors filled with treasures from around the world, each one hand-selected with an eye for the truly unique.”
I have spent many an afternoon wandering about the Tiny Jewel Box’s displays of antique pieces (typically bought from estates) and newer items by hot designers. My motives at the outset were entirely pure; I marched through the doors intent on selecting a necklace or brooch to give to a relative or friend in celebration of some event. If the occasion were a wedding, I might also decide to buy something elegant to wear at the ceremony; if a lesser event, a bauble to match a dress.
French urn, designer unknown.
Before long, I accepted that it was okay to shop with my own needs and desires in mind. Thus, when my eye was attracted to a serpent pin, I did not hesitate to buy it; this was the pin that would later launch my use of brooches as a diplomatic tool.
The sheaf of wheat is a symbol of abundance and health. This pin was given to me upon my return to Georgetown University after my time as secretary of state. Sheaf of wheat, Tiffany & Co.
MICHAEL KRESS PHOTOGRAPHY
In a celebratory mood at Katie’s wedding, joined by daughters Alice and Anne, and my three sons-in-law, Greg Bowes (holding grandson David), Jake Schatz, and Geoff Watson. Grapes, Tiny