A “woman needs ropes and ropes of pearls” and “diamonds are a girl’s best friend”, but it takes a truly unconventional woman to wear jade.
You catch a glimpse of that unconventional woman–perhaps sitting across the subway from you, passing you by in the aisle of a grocery store, or weaving around rushing bodies while crossing the street–and you see the graceful slant of inquisitive eyes and unruly waves of jet black hair.
If you could catch her and talk to her, you would hear perfect, unaccented English flow from her lips. American English, a New York accent. If the conversation turns to food, she’ll claim Chinese food is the best (of course), and you’ll find that the flecks of Mandarin that dot her vocabulary are limited to elementary food words.
If you could take hold of her heart for just a moment, spend an evening with your limbs draped over hers, you will find your gaze tracing lines upward across her body. Here, the dip of her waist and rising curve of her hip, there, a small Jade stone hanging from a worn red string, resting warm between the rhythmic rising and falling of her breasts. A warm and living stone, a memento of her Chinese identity, fragmented by an American upbringing.
Then you’ll know her as Jade, and find that she wears her unconventionality with ease.