I’m Mabel Loraine Whitmore
In truth, I never imagined putting my jewelry online — technology was never my strong suit. But thanks to my sweet grandson, who insisted on helping me “bring the shop to the internet,” this little corner of the web now exists.
He told me, “Grandma, the world deserves to see what you’ve made.”
And here we are.
For nearly half a century, I’ve run a little jewelry shop in the heart of Brookhaven, Georgia — a quiet Southern town where the moss hangs low and people still wave to each other on the sidewalk.
More About Me
I was born in 1952, the only child of Dorothy and Frank Whitmore. My parents owned a small general store on the edge of town, where I spent most of my childhood barefoot behind the counter, organizing buttons and ribbon spools by color. But my favorite place was always the back room — a small, sunlit corner where my mother kept a velvet tray of old jewelry, broken lockets, and loose stones. She wasn’t trained in design. She just had good hands and a better heart. Every Sunday after church, she’d sit at the table and put pieces back together — not just jewelry, but memories.
That’s where it started for me.
When I turned 17, I got a part-time job at a local dress shop, helping women pick out earrings to match their Sunday best. I loved how one small accessory could light up someone’s whole face. It wasn’t just about looking nice. It was about feeling seen. Feeling beautiful. Feeling remembered.
Over the years, that one-room shop became something much more. It became a place where stories were shared, tears were shed, and memories were honored. I’ve made necklaces for women starting over, bracelets for daughters heading off to college, and lockets that held photos of husbands gone too soon. Some customers became friends. Some became family.
My divorce made me very sad for decades. But I’ve always said:
“These pieces… they’re my legacy. And this shop? This is the family I built.”
For 45 years, I opened those same creaky doors every morning and turned the sign to “Open.” I swept the same worn floorboards. I brewed fresh coffee and welcomed anyone who wandered in — whether they had five dollars to spend or five hundred.
But now, at 72, my hands don’t move quite the way they used to. My eyesight is softer around the edges. The town has changed. And I’ve made the bittersweet decision to close my little shop for good.
But before I go, I’ve gathered together a final collection — the pieces closest to my heart. Some are designs I never had the chance to release. Others are inspired by letters and stories sent to me over the years. Together, they make up what I call The Legacy Line.
This online store is my farewell.
My thank you.
My last offering to the women who have trusted me with their memories all these years.
If you're reading this,
I hope you’ll find something here that speaks to you — something that reminds you of someone you love, or of the woman you’ve become.
And when you wear it, I hope you feel strong. I hope you feel seen.
I hope you remember that beauty doesn’t fade — it deepens.
Thank you for being part of my story.
With love,
Mabel