Used to be a gal would come into the bar on a Friday night, post-divorce, sometimes post-funeral, sometimes just post-Tuesday, and she'd be wearing some piece around her neck I'd never seen on her before. A locket. A heavy gold rope chain. Pearls that had clearly been her mother's. I never said anything about it (not my place, pal), but I always noticed. You could tell she'd put it on for herself. Not for the room. That, in my book, is what sexy jewelry actually is.
So let's talk about it, because the magazines mostly miss the point.
The point isn't to look 25 again
I'm 73. I've had two wives, one prostate scare, and a knee that predicts rain. I know what I'm talking about when I say: nobody over 60 needs to fish for compliments with a belly-button ring. What you want is jewelry that does two things, kid. One, you catch it in the mirror on the way out the door and you stand up a little straighter. Two, when somebody hugs you, they feel it against their chest and they remember the hug.
That's the whole game. Everything else is marketing.
What's actually in right now (for once it works for us)
Here's the funny thing. For about fifteen years the trend was tiny. Itty-bitty chains. Stackable nothing-rings. "Quiet luxury" they called it, which is what rich people say when they want you to buy expensive jewelry that looks like a paperclip.
Well, somebody flipped the switch. The 2026 look is big. Chunky gold cuffs. Sculptural earrings. Baroque pearls (those are the lumpy, organic-shaped ones, not the perfect-round Mrs.-Cleaver pearls). Long pendants. Mixed metals on purpose, the gold and the silver together, which back in '78 would've gotten you laughed out of Macy's.
I bring this up not because we need to chase trends (we don't, that's a young person's hobby), but because for the first time in a long while, the trend favors us. A 68-year-old woman with a real piece of jewelry on looks intentional. A 25-year-old in the same piece looks like she's playing dress-up. We win this round.
The four-piece starter kit, Bernie's edition
You don't need a jewelry box the size of a steamer trunk. Four good pieces, and you're set for any room you walk into.
- One pair of real earrings. Real, meaning gold, silver, pearl, something with weight. Not the costume stuff that turns your earlobes green by Thanksgiving. Hoops if you've got a long neck, drops if your hair is shorter. Skip the chandeliers unless you're going somewhere with a coat check.
- One necklace that lives at your collarbone. A pendant or a single strand. Long enough to point downward without you fidgeting with it. Short enough that it doesn't disappear into your blouse. (Fidgeting kills it. If you're touching it every five minutes, it's the wrong piece.)
- One bracelet or cuff. One. Cuffs are having a moment. They're easier on arthritic fingers than clasps, which is a quiet blessing nobody warns you about until your thumbs stop cooperating around age 65.
- One ring that isn't your wedding ring. Even if you still wear your wedding ring (I respect that, my second wife did till the day she passed). A ring on the other hand. Something cocktail-sized. Maybe a stone you actually like, not one a salesman talked you into in 1994.
That's it. Four pieces. You can mix in more for a wedding or a big night, but four is plenty for Tuesday.
The neck-and-ear thing
Listen. Without getting weird about it, the neck and the ear are where people look when they're listening to you. They just do. So a piece that draws the eye up there is doing real work. Pearls do this beautifully, especially the baroque kind. A simple gold chain does it. A signature pair of earrings does it.
What does not do it: a giant pendant that swings into your soup. Choose something with weight but not so much you have to lean back to see across the table.
Some practical stuff nobody mentions
- Clasps get harder. Magnetic clasps and slide-on bangles are your friends after 65. No shame in it. My buddy Sal switched to magnetic on his wife's anniversary necklace and she said it was the best gift she got that year.
- Skin changes, jewelry follows. What looked great on you at 40 might look a little sallow now. Warmer metals (gold, rose gold, copper) tend to flatter mature skin better than cold silver. Doesn't mean toss the silver. Just notice.
- Hearing aids. If you wear them, certain earrings will tangle. Studs and small hoops are the friendly choices. The big drops can wait for the days you're going somewhere quiet.
- Insure the good stuff. Take a phone picture of every piece worth over a few hundred bucks. Email it to yourself. If the house ever gets burgled (or you misplace something, which happens to all of us, I lost a watch in the Catskills in 1991 and I still wonder where it went), you'll be glad you did.
The sentimental piece beats the expensive piece, every time
Last thing, pal. The piece that makes you feel like a million bucks is almost never the priciest. It's the one with the story. Your mother's pearls. The bracelet your son brought back from Italy on his honeymoon. The cuff you bought yourself the week you retired. The locket from a husband who's gone now.
Wear those. They look better on you than anything in the case at Tiffany. They have skin in the game.
And if you don't have a sentimental piece yet, well. Buy one for yourself this week. Doesn't need to be expensive. Just needs to be the one you reach for on the days when nothing else is going right. That's the piece that earns its keep.
Stand up straight, walk out the door. The room will notice. (Trust me on this. I tended bar for 41 years. The room always notices.)