A friend once described the four Los Angeles seasons as earthquake, flooding, fire, and drought. We are about halfway through fire these days, often due to the Santa Ana winds that dry your sinuses and rattle the palm fronds. In the midst of the last batch of Santa Anas, I made a bracelet that shows that side of L.A. Noir - palms, a dark skyline, an occasional glint of treasure before is whirls past.
Raymond Chandler described the Santa Anas thus:
Those hot dry winds that come down through the mountain passes...
and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch.
On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight.
Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks.
Anything can happen.
In the charm world, life is similar. The hot winds blow. The palm trees grow crisper and the dry fronds still rattle ominously. The meek little housewives are truly little, though perhaps not so meek. And there are gemstones. This is, after all, Hollywood. But there is a darkness in the air. Even the charms feel it.
Go ahead. Ask them!