"I am still making magic" with royal gold. For ladies only!
Gold and chains by Anna Atsu
Issue with gold.
“Everyone looks well in gold…” - I hear from a precious person who invested in gold many golden coins…
Ah, the charm of gold – the dazzling metal that can transform even a grocery run into a royal procession. Now, I'm not one to shy away from precious things in life, but let's set the record straight – I'm more of a golden shades-on-clothes kind of gal.
Jewelry?
Not so much of a golden memory.
My wedding dress?
A glamorous blend of champagne and grey, gracefully sliding into blue. Why, you ask? White wasn't my vibe; it didn't resonate with my soul. And the hat? Oh, that was a different story, but alas, it needed a matching dress to waltz into a wedding. Since I hadn’t found a dress to go with it I decided not to go to a wedding in a hat only!
Champagne because I dream of golden beaches...
Now, why champagne and grey, you wonder? Champagne for those daydreams of golden beaches, where warm sand caresses the soles of my feet, and life seems like a golden beach of countless possibilities. Grey, on the other hand, is the colour of reality, each day inching into the hopeful blue of the sky. It's also the colour of doves – symbols of freedom, creativity, and a dash of panache.
Flying high, both in the skies and in my mind, is my forte.
He picked me, he admitted today, for my floating spirit, independent mind, and golden patience. The dress? He footed the bill, and I scored a hefty dose of golden freedom as a bonus. I promised not to fly away; vows are like gold – enduring.
Safe without a safe...
Now, let's chat about a safe home over a safe bursting with gold. A golden trophy or crown was promised if I endured another three decades with him – time flies, and so do I. I thrive on fleeting moments, the ephemeral beauty of cut flowers, and the allure of perfumes.
J'adore by Dior – If gold was a scent...
Speaking of perfumes, I've fallen head over heels for J’adore and Charlize Theron since that first enchanting advert featuring the golden goddess herself. "From one drop to infinity," she declares. I've been adoring "J’adore" for 11 years, precisely the duration I've refrained from wearing a golden ring – not because I fear the fragrance being stolen, but because perfumes should be shared, just not sprayed with reckless abandon.
Chains…
Now, let's dive into chains. Not the heavy, clingy kind – more like the carefully chosen, airy kind. I don't wear heavy chains.
Royal services?
Well, I prefer them, especially when there's a queen involved. Since she's no longer with us, I chat with Charles – not that Charles, the one Diana talked to. He was obsessed with Camilla anyway. I am obsessed with what I am obsessed with but it doesn’t break my moral limits. My moral limits lie between lightened hair shade and heightened heel.
You see, I've got a thing for Charles Dickens and Charles on the throne – green, literature, and breaking barriers. I break the limits by overloading Royal Postal Services with parcels and postcards since Charles is on the throne. Regarding the chains, I speak to Charles Dickens sometimes, I beg him not to send me Jacob Marley as a reminder to wear my chains…
Compared to Lady Diana? Yes, often...
And yes, I've been compared to Lady Diana, perhaps because my hairdresser is a fan of Celine Dion and Lara Fabian and he shared my fascination with Stromae. We discuss their songs during my lengthy, coffee-induced head massages. My hairdresser probably fancies Diana's hairstyle, and I tried Charlize Theron's once – successful from the back, mind you. Hearing that my golden fringe resembles Charlize's? Hidden pleasure, indeed.
Enjoyed watching The Crown...
Royalty on screen? "The Crown" was a spectacle – not just for the stellar filming but for the unexpected rat cameos. Let's skip the Charles and Camilla tape conversation, though. Love? It's like a fast-paced game of lovely, loving love ("miła miła miłość") – and since I'm a fast and resilient runner, I savour it daily.
“Welcome home, Madam”
Upon returning home, a lady pronounced, "Welcome home." Tender, right? The last time it was a male boarding control officer with a less tender "Welcome back, Madam." How can you not feel like gold, even without a crown? I've never had a hen party – not "a la mode" at the time. I get to see hens laying eggs instead. No, I am not of particular significance, just patiently waiting in all sorts of queues like everyone else.
This time, at the airport, I waited patiently in a queue to hear that tended “Welcome home”. I waited patiently in a queue to get a tended kiss, then I waited impatiently to hear if my precious black rucksack was found on the aircraft.
After another half an hour...
A patient man brings my rucksack, hoping it's lighter. Let's just say I orchestrated this not to carry the heaviest piece of luggage and to test my faith in humanity. My writing is heavy sometimes, sometimes light, but often about chains and connections.
Back to the car of a patient man...
After another half-hour, I return to the car of a patient man, ready to chauffeur the precious woman and her rucksack home. The promise of a golden trophy or crown for resilience is dangled for another decade, or two, or three. Let's not turn it into an auction. I love art, but not enough to sell my golden words at an auction house. There are some nice auction houses in my great city with a great heritage and I don’t mean Police auctions that are famous here too. I prefer not to have stolen art on my walls. Precisely, I would rather pay for some good imitations of my favourite artists because the golden coins won’t go to them since they are not with us, they are in precious memories of art galleries.
For modern art, time is to show what’s real gold.
All that glisters is not gold—
Often have you heard that told.
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold.
Gilded tombs do worms enfold.
Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
Your answer had not been inscrolled
Fare you well. Your suit is cold—
— William Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice
Maybe one day, for now, I'll stick to paying parking ticket fees after high tea with my hairdresser, who loves painting me as the golden goddess or Merlin Monroe this time.
So, imitating the blond goddess, I am singing to a presiding king, still long before our golden anniversary, when I will be throned:
Thanks, Mister,
For all the things you’ve done
The battles that you’ve won
The way you deal with me still
And our problems by the ton
Hope is not to be thrown…
I don’t chase nationalities...
Nationalities? Enjoying them like Princess of Wales, Theron and Monroe. No chaising; they're just happy to have me. I'm grateful for the rules in all the countries that let me share my nationality and skip between three passports. No monopoly here, just the freedom to be who I am.
Being shared?
There's a button on many platforms that says "Share Anna." It felt odd at first, but now I revel in sharing – not just my story, but in celebrating the incredible work, perspectives, and achievements of others. After all, love should be shared, and chains? Well, they're best chosen with care.
And that, my dear ladies, is how I am still making magic with gold sand. Cheers with golden champagne to the golden moments, the light chains, the gold fragrances, and the shared joys of life!
I'm still making magic…
Ps. If you fancy the styles of Diana, Charlize, or even Merlin Monroe, I'm thrilled to spill the beans, this time on my fabulous hairdressers. They possess the magical ability to "blend the champagne shade with the perfect touch of dirty grey." Plus, they're not just hair artisans; they're companions in sharing precious moments over cups of coffee or tea, indulging in hearty laughter, and skillfully weaving words to discuss the palette that will make your head shine. Sure, a visit might set you back a few bucks, but fear not—I've got the inside scoop on snagging budget-friendly parking, all gleaned from my savvy exploits with "golden tickets" paid to the council. It's essentially a contribution to the royal treasury, you see! Now, when it comes to loyalty, I'm not tethered to a single-hair maestro. I prefer to dabble, experimenting to discover how many famous women I can channel. It's like my catwalk of iconic styles.
Disclaimer: personal views in this article are not to offend anyone. No political views or preferences were shared here. Resemblances to any public figures, dead or alive are claimed by certain individuals but not by the author of this piece of “joyful creativity” for women.
I do remember the precious moment of you choosing the dress