An obsession with charms began early in life. They were the purchase of choice during trips to the shore or renaissance fairs when given a crisp twenty-dollar bill to “get something nice”. Unicorn topped crystals, amethyst hearts, pentacles, and friendship tokens were among my collection of kitsch adornments. In lieu of a traditional chain, I used woven embroidery floss, safety pins, ball chains, or the swivel hooks from my mother’s fishing tackle box. Some days I would wear one charm, and on other days they were piled on my adolescent torso. Amid these small metal relics of my 90’s childhood was a silver cornicello. 

A cornicello (or Italian horn for those who didn’t have a superstitious Sicilian grandmother) is meant to ward off the evil eye, but I always thought it was terribly boring alongside a dragon's claw holding a polished purple marble. Not to mention I didn’t need this token as my skee ball prowess had garnered me enough arcade tickets to trade in for a pewter and glass evil eye pendant to take its place.

I’ve kept these mementos of my childhood locked away in my jewelry box, still on the swivel hook chain. But nostalgia and superstition have crept in over the years and although I’m still a skeptic, I sometimes need their talismanic protections. The silver cornicello came out again after my grandmother's passing in 2013. It stayed tucked under my t-shirts much as her own layers of gold chains were always tucked under her blouses. In recent years I inherited one of her chains and have begun to assemble my own trinkets: the letter “T” and a small taurus charm, once purchased by my grandmother for my mother Tina; a bezel set diamond slice, a gift I made myself a few years back; and recently, a gold cornicello to ward off evil eyes.