I’ve been to my share of tacky tourist shops in over-crowded coastal cities. Four-lane traffic running right along the sand, one ramshackle structure after the next, Taco Bells and Subways that abut go-cart tracks with wacky neon light shows, water parks with Hawaiian themes, which adjoin Balinese-inspired bridges which lead from one putt-putt hole to the 18th singing finale, and then, ultimately to racks of witless t-shirts and American flag thongs. God bless! Yes, I’ve been inside such stores–only because I’ll be looking for a quick-fix in the section of practical gear: The styrofoam ice chest, the inflatable raft, the cheap bike, sunblock with aloe. Of course, there’s always the array of trinkets, boxes, even candelabras smooched with shells. Through my girlhood, I referred to such objet d’art as “interesting”—admiring the tedious shellwork from afar. Of course, I could never admit that I actually liked these accessories—especially once I got to New York and my aesthetic sensibilities were profoundly honed at House & Garden and Vogue, where I learned to root my taste in cognizance, context, intentionality. But I’ll admit it now that I’ve gone freelance: I still love a shell-strewn vase. I do. I just do. 

And this summer, like many summers, I’ve scoured beaches aplenty. Though my treasure trove of shells has waned, I must commend myself on acquiring a notable number of shark teeth this year—mostly from reef tips, sands, hammerheads. No massive species, meaning nothing of the extinct and hotly pursued megalodons, such as this super-size snaggle:

One day though, I’m going to time a beach jaunt with a proper governmental dredging, which is when, so rumor has it, that the big boys surface upon the sands of Ponte Vedra Beach. For now, I simply try to time my jogs/ambles at low tide when the beach stretches wide and the coquina spreads thin–coquina being the swathes of shattered-up shell-smatter in which the chompers of the sea-beasts always seem to tangle.

The lexicon of the sea gives my soul a little jump–mollusk, coquina, limpet, conch, cockle…So much to know, so much mystery…I’ve purchased myriad books on shells over the years, though few of any display-worthy beauty have been published, or so I thought until I came across this: The Shell: A World of Decoration & Ornament.   

This stunning tome, which came out way back in ’07, delves into the wonder of a beloved, natural object: A quick study in the shell’s use for beadwork and baubles, vessels, utensils, knife-sharpeners, et al; a romp through famous shell appearances in still-lifes and Botticellis. Most fascinating are whole walls bejeweled in shells, grottos and galleries festooned and swirled with majestic shapes. I have a hunch that if I could just get a shell-kissed studio, I could finish my novel, most definitely.