I have a box of orphaned, broken earrings in my wardrobe which I cannot bring myself to discard. They represent the tantalising prospect of micro-reinvention, much like a new haircut or an Instagram filter. Novelty accessories distract from my aversion to makeup, intricate skincare or a personal grooming ritual.

Raised on a diet of anime, manga and the (now defunct) Dolly and Girlfriend magazines in country Western Australia, I spent my teens longing for a heart-shaped face, huge eyes and a pixie look. My parents feared piercings were a gateway into illicit behaviour and dangerous compulsions, so I raided my grandmother’s collection of vintage clip-on earrings. Perhaps there is something to their fear – in the 1999 novel Girl with a Pearl Earring, the protagonist (played by Scarlett Johansson in the film) pierces both ears at the painter Vermeer’s request and experiences a transgressive, sensual rush at this spike of pain and the shared intimacy of sitting for a portrait. In my early 20s I finally had my ears pierced at a pharmacy.

My orphan earrings project an optimism.

Some of my earrings are sourced from........

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