There was once a Chanel paper clip. It was given to me as a gift, together with a teeny tiny notebook, when I bought Chanel makeup at Charles de Gaulle airport many years ago. I thought it was just about the most beautiful thing, and I took to wearing it on a necklace as if it were a pendant. It’s featured in my favorite picture of me from Ibiza, the year I quit yoga teacher training, a sunset-soaked picture on the beach at Beniras, where I’d gone to hear the drums. It was a good moment.
Then at some point I grew tired of wearing the Chanel paper clip. I stuck it in a drawer at my parents’ house in Bucharest and forgot all about it. I found it by mistake this summer and texted a picture of it to John. He said he wanted it, so I brought it with me to Houston, where I lost it again in the jet lagged confusion of my first days back. I found it thanks to my Marie-Kondo-inspired decluttering frenzy and wore it to John’s last night for an event. I paired it with my Chanel vest and one of my brand new skirts and I started feeling torn about giving it to him. Then we horsed around with the dogs and I think I lost it for good. I hope Nancy has it. Or maybe it’ll turn up someday at John’s. The end. Maybe.