A good friend of mine dropped one of her diamond earrings down her bathroom sink a couple of weeks ago. Distraught and fumbling to phone every plumber (being Lebanese has finally come in handy) she could have possibly known, the diamond was finally recovered from the pipes. But her initial loss granted me a huge amount of empathy. I reminisced on some of the fabulous items once owned that have sadly and usually quite unnecessarily departed from my own life.
Number one was my mother’s vintage gold and freshwater pearl watch.
Number two was the perfect nude lipliner.
The first was an exquisite watch I only wore on special occasions. Of course, special occasions turned into big nights and big nights always ended in the city – the night I lost the watch was in 2007, heavily intoxicated after the Ksubi party in Alexandria and the devastation occurred somewhere between the drunken trek between here and Tank nightclub. It is a night I have tried to erase from my memory. As for the lipliner, it was the perfect nude, a matte (but not overly heavy) stick of heaven and easily sharpened, unlike many others. Bought only a few months earlier from a pharmacy while mum did the veggie shopping, I can’t forget the day I discovered perfect, full lips. Worn at least three times a week and still hardly worn down when it vanished from my handbag at, I do believe, The Establishment, Sydney, in July, 2009 – I immediately contacted Guerlain through a shitty “Inquiries” link on their website, replied to days later by a consultant whose tragic duty was to break the news that the nude lipliner I needed had been discontinued. Condolences were offered, but there was nothing similar to be suggested.
It would be nice if all our lost objects, dropped cash, disappearing rings, diamond earrings, clasp bangles, coats and lipglosses all ended up some place nice, waiting for us at the end of our journey, along with the double breasted red coat I left in a cloakroom, Moby’s first album which seemed to have grown legs and wondered OUT of my glovebox at some point, the perfectly sized pocket knife that nestled in the bottom of my handbag for months until an old friend decided he ‘needed’ it and of course, the countless novels I have lent over the years that have failed to be returned. Nothing hurts more than the loss of a very special item.
