Admittedly, this is one of those “I’m part of this group, so it’s OK for me to make fun of them” pieces. That said, what’s up with all the women using beading as a way to feel good about themselves and fill the void created by not getting enough attention? Beading seems to attract the worst of the needy self-doubters. Women who can’t choose a color without at least two other people holding their hand and guiding it towards just the right choice. Women who can tie themselves into knots over navy vs. royal blue and who would pay thousands of dollars to go on a beading cruise through the Caribbean, spending sun-filled days huddled over freeform peyote necklaces that, when worn, look like seaweed and ocean garbage washed up against their necks and stuck there.

I’ve worked at a bead store for three years. There is a woman who comes into the store every Monday whom I call the Monday Crier. She comes in and literally unloads all of her bags, purses, and satchels onto the counter and sighs. I ask her how she’s doing and she says, “awful.” Then we proceed through an hour of trying to find just the right beads to medicate her. One week a friend had been diagnosed with cancer. The next week her cat had to be put to sleep. The following week she was mourning her mother’s death by cutting apart her old necklace and making bracelets out of it for everyone in the family, some of whom she said wouldn’t even accept it, hinting at family turmoil . At each turn she asks for advice but then doesn’t listen, just blabbers on, relieved to have someone to talk to.

“Do you like green and orange together?”

“Does this look too chunky? Be honest.”

“Would you wear this?”

Since when is the bead store a place to unload? What happened to the good old days when people went to a bar and cried into a beer while feasting on pickled hard-boiled eggs?

If Monday Crier were an isolated incident, it would be nothing. But she is not a unique snowflake. She is one of 40 or more like her who shop at the store. I can’t help thinking that there must be something deeply wrong, so deep that it can no longer even be accessed consciously, with adults who obsess over pairing pyramid-shaped beads with tiny metal wings to make mini-angels for Christmas. Or who track the release of new Swarovski crystals and can then only use the new colors, rendering the other 100 options unacceptable. “Do you have the new Eggnog AB crystal?” they’ll ask. When told no, their shoulders sag and their mouths hang open. How can we not have it? Haven’t we been keeping up? Didn’t we read Bead & Button this month and see the 7-tiered crystal and pearl necklace with the Egyptian scarab hanging from it?

Most of these women are also women who will make a bracelet, necklace and earrings that all match a particular rose-colored sweater purchased at Kohl’s. These are women who have to sit down in a chair if there’s too much “color stimulation.” They are also women who adore anything shaped like a teapot, cat or the aforementioned angel. You may think there are not that many of these women out there but you’re wrong. They are everywhere. They’re your neighbor, the mother of your girlfriend or boyfriend, the volunteer at the blood bank and, if you’ve got the time, they’d love to tell you about the healing power of rose quartz or hematite. If you’ve got the money, they’d love to make you a tiny doll of seed beads or a mother’s bracelet with all seven of your children’s names spelled out in sterling silver cubes. And its not even a case of, “All you have to do is ask.” More like, “All you have to do is make eye contact for longer than five seconds.”