First, the pherome moth traps work, trapping the males so they don't breed. When we left the apartment for our recent trip, one lonely SOB had stuck on the trap in Le Duc's clothes closet. By the time we returned, a dozen of the males (who think they have found a hot girl moth) had snuffed it on the sticky cardboard. Give them time; we had the traps in closets for maybe two months before we got this result.
Le Duc essayed a major closet cleanout, and found a bag of cotton balls had been turned into a nursery. (Yes, moths will lay eggs on cotton; it's not just wool and silk that appeal.)
I noticed carefully-written copy on some sites that sell this or similar pherome traps, which stated that they "alert you to the problem". (I suppose they cannot say they will kill all the pests.)
We also came back from France loaded...with moth products. I could not find a Kapo supplier in Canada, so I stocked up on this diffuser, designed to kill mature moths and larvae.
Listen, this moth thing is big, and they are supremely hard to vanquish; I am still fighting their low-level but stubborn presence. Even my Buddhist friend who will not swat a mosquito has the traps. If you are entrepreneurial, I suggest you start an e-commerce biz that specializes in proven products. Everyone I talk to has a moth story, none are pretty; climate change seems to have enhanced the pests' ubiquity.
Let's segue to the marbles.
In reading how to best accessorize my newly-grey hair, I ran across a quote from Betty Halbreich, Berdorf's famed personal shopper, who said, "My grey-haired ladies? I bead 'em up." She's a fan of chunky strands of peridot, coral, amethyst, and of course, pearls. Then Kirsten Giving showed us her luscious pieces. Though not for sale, they danced in my mind.
Last week, I saw my friend Susan, a retired investment banker who now makes jewelry, which she occasionally sells at art fairs and by-invitation shows. (Please e-mail me if you would like to be invited to a fall 2015 show in Montréal.)
She threw a selection of pieces made over her winter in Florida into her tote bag, and I wanted every one of them!
My newest piece: Big marble-sized Greek porcelain "donkey beads", antique silver buttons, trade beads and assorted bits from her travels. The Greek-flag-blue enlivens a white tee, denim shirt—nearly everything I have.
And a moth will not even be tempted by beads.