“when i was having that alphabet soup, i never thought that it would pay off.” // v. white

in the late 80s, when i was a late-blooming 12 year-old, the suburbs were a challenging place.

sweatpants were in, reebok hi-tops with the overbearing tongues were a necessity, nkotb were the boys you swooned over, and the item of distinction; the prized possession of your 13th birthday was an initial ring – in yellow gold, bearing a font that could only be described as cumbersome block.

i felt distinctly out of place.

i tried to fit in, my beaver canoes were comfortable after all, but i thought those shoes were hideous, and i wanted to listen to depeche mode and sulk in a dark corner, instead of scream and be confused over pre-pubescent lust. despite that laundry list of typical pre-teen angst, i did love my initial ring. don’t misunderstand, it was in retrospect, terrifically ugly. it was bulky, unoriginal, and was better utilized by being melted down and turned into a brooch.

i suppose though, what stuck, was the imprint of my initials – they meant something, they were me – something i wasn’t shy to show, a little bit of pride that went along with a ‘b’ and a ‘g’. i suppose, words have always meant a lot to me, even if two of them were my name.





➝ source : alphabet a-top via mary katrantzou

➝ source : maman et sophie initial bracelet via milano ventuno

➝ source : jean initial clutch via edie parker

➝ source : leonard vintage floral letters dress via far fetch


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