I’d liken Dadybones to a spiked milkshake. Both offer the sweet whimsy of childhood and the devilish edge of adulthood. I’ll take it all, whether it’s dripping down my chin, adorning my ears or dangling from my wrist.

Dadybones excels in my favorite type of accessory: the statement earring. These I love for myriad reasons. They justify that anxiety ridden day back in 2000 when I had my lobes punctured in a Limited Too. They accentuate the natural curves of my tragus. Sometimes, they even take care of the daunting “who says what first” conundrum when I’m meeting a complete stranger under amiable circumstance. “I like your earrings” slips out of the mouth easier than a mischievous high school kid from his parents home at midnight.

Ideally, any accessory on my person says something worthwhile. In the case of Dadybones, this isn’t the slightest problem. Take a look see:

 

Without my having to even smile properly, these sassy olives tell you several things. First, I like martinis. Second, I am, as they say, “Kooky”. Third, I’m a savvy woman, as I’ve doubled my accessories as a mild form of weaponry. Perhaps people will think twice before cutting me off with their grocery carts in the Whole Foods. “What else can be said with my Dadybones accoutrements?” you ask? Train your eyeballs below:

“May I interest you in a geography lesson from my earlobes?”

“I like to read my favorite Proust from the back of a powder blue leopard print convertible doing eighty through the Mohave.”

“These earrings represent the spellbinding power of nature’s nourishment, or alcohol, depending on my mood.”

“Broken heart, sure. Bad accessories, never.”

“This earring purchase was inspired by my love of baby jellyfish, cheeky color and drawing attention to my strong jaw line.”

“Don’t call me a star, but don’t NOT call me a star either.”

“Another, please.”