Market Presence

Every Saturday or Sunday morning, just before the first rays of sunlight kiss the shoreline, we set up our little stall at the local markets. It’s nothing too fancy, a folding table draped in pink and white linen, a few stands for delicate bracelets, and trays filled with a colourful collection of charms. But what draws people in isn’t the setup, it’s the magic in the details.

Each charm is its own tiny universe: a flicker of gold, a sea-worn gem, a hand-sculpted creature from the deep sea. You’ll find squids with curling tentacles, sharks mid-surge, and green stones that shimmer like kelp swaying underwater.

Tourists stop by with curiosity, but it’s the locals who return time and again. One swimmer told us the starfish and shell charms reminded her of childhood Sundays at the beach with her mum. A surfer wears her turtle charm to every competition. A little girl saved her pocket money for three weeks just to buy a heart and a star. A teenage singer wears his microphone, and guitar charms every weekend like a badge of his dreams.

Some are drawn to the sparkle—the way gold catches the sunlight and dances with every step. For them, a charm is a little piece of luxury, worn proudly, layered delicately on the collarbone or wrapped around the wrist. Their love is aesthetic, bold, and joyful.

Others are collectors of meaning. They pick up a charm the way you might pick up a seashell on a beach, because it speaks to something inside. A music note for the song they wrote in high school. A tiny book for the stories they carry in their heart. A green gem for calm, courage, or maybe just their favourite shade of hope. Their love is quiet, thoughtful, deeply personal.

Some fall for the nostalgia. They find an anchor and remember summer holidays on the coast. A star takes them back to a childhood wish. A charm isn’t just jewellery, it’s a memory, worn close to the skin. Their love is soft and sentimental, full of heart.

Then there are the dreamers. They build entire stories from their charms—a mermaid tail, a moon, a message in a bottle. Their bracelet becomes a fairytale; a fantasy world strung in gold and silver. Their love is imaginative, magical, and wild.

And some, some just feel it. They hold a charm in their hand and know, without reason or explanation, this one is mine. It doesn’t have to make sense. It just fits. That love is instinctive, unspoken, true.

At the charm stall, we see all of these loves. And the best part? Each charm leaves with the person it was meant for.

Every charm holds a story—and somehow, they always seem to find the right hands.

By midday, our table is scattered—empty velvet trays, a few tangled chains, and a sea-salted breeze. By the end of the day we smile, grateful to be part of something small, special, and full of meaning.