
What Jewelry Means To Me: Niabi
When I turned 18, my grandmother gifted me a long red box. “I’ve been saving this for you,” she said. It smelled faintly of mothballs, a scent that from a young age, I’ve learned to associate with anything old and brought from India. “Your grandfather had these made for me when we were younger, and now that you are 18, I want you to have them” she had said.