The Washerwoman

Sounds like something from a Nicole Kidman horror movie, doesn't it? "You'd better be good little boys and girls, or the WASHERWOMAN will get you!!!" And then she does, one by one popping the unruly little biters into a steaming vat of laundry after which they reappear, the very soul of obedience. (But are they really? Hmmm...) Vaguely sinister. Or perhaps the name of a Seinfeld episode. The whole episode takes place in Jerry's apartment and the dry cleaner's. And Jerry's convinced the Washerwoman is taking his underwear, one pair at a time because he's positive there were 12 pairs of tighty whities in there, and now there's only 11 (somehow I can't imagine Jerry  Seinfeld wearing boxers. Actually I can't picture him in his underwear at all. It's upsetting. I can however, picture Mark Wahlberg in his underwear. In fact I'm doing it right now.). Or better yet, the Washerwoman is a crackerjack assassin, whose face no one has ever seen, in one of those confusing, slow-moving spy movies where you keep waiting for something to happen but nothing ever does and at the end you say, "Wait--what?". With Michael Caine and Matt Damon or something. And the Washerwoman turns out to be Helen Mirren or Tilda Swinton. The Washerwoman. Because she rubs you out. Like a stain. Ha ha. I watch too much television.

Unfortunately, I'm not nearly that lethal. (Which I guess I don't really consider a virtue. So let's say "fortunately," although there's something sort of lame and sad about being "harmless." Let's split the difference and call me dangerous. Like, I might maim you but I probably wouldn't kill you. On purpose.) And I suppose I'm more accurately The Washer Woman. Two words. As in Woman Who Uses Washers. Of the hardware variety. (As opposed to Kenmore. I have like 40 pairs of underwear so I hardly ever use a clothes washer. In fact, my boyfriend washes my underwear. Every 40 days. He's a gem.)

Copper washers, to be more specific. I've been texturing them with a brass texture plate and large hammer, as I mentioned in a previous post. I did up a bunch, antiqued and tumbled them, and then dipped them in Permalac for a high gloss and lasting good looks. That was some time ago, and I decided to use them this weekend for earrings. Which was my original intent as I had made them in matched pairs. I have one set to go that just needs earwires, so I won't show you those yet.

With cobalt blue pearls and glass:

With fuchsia pearls and glass, and some little upside-down beadcaps and daisy spacers:

And lastly, with iolite and amber glass seed beads:

Well I suppose I should go to bed so I can seem all alert and competent for my day job tomorrow. I shall probably dream about Tilda Swinton stirring a vat of Mark Wahlberg's underwear while ghostly little Stepford children swan around chanting nursery rhymes about a Soup Nazi in English accents.