In October 1926, in a scene reminiscent of the recent Louvre heist, a gargantuan nine-carat pink diamond was stolen from Château de Chantilly, France, by two amateur thieves. Unlike recent events, the diamond was, thankfully, found by a chambermaid called Suzanne Schiltx — in a hollowed-out apple of all places.

Now, a century after the event, the Grande Condé is going on display in France.

The pear-cut stone (left) was mined in India and sold to Louis XIII of France — who later gifted it to Louis II de Bourbon, Prince of Condé, as a reward for his services in the Thirty Years’ War. It remained in the possession of the Condé family until 1892 when the last heir ceded it to the French government on condition that it remained on display at the Château de Chantilly. (Though heavily disputed, according to local folklore the château’s head steward, François Vatel, invented crème Chantilly on the premises.)

When it emerges to dazzle the public in October, the Grande Condé diamond will be accompanied by new-fangled gemological analysis and material chronicling its history. Sam Stirrat, a bespoke jewellery designer specialising in engagement rings and fine jewellery, and the founder of Blackacre, is particularly excited about the reaction it’s sure to garner. ‘The shape of it is rather unusual in that it’s not a modern cut,’ he says. ‘The stone isn’t geometrically perfect and that plays into the new trend for interesting and individual cuts.’ See Taylor Swift’s old mine-cut engagement ring. The eight or ten-carat, elongated diamond was hand cut before modern machinery existed (no two old mine-cut diamonds are identical) and helped to spark a mainstream revival of antique diamond shapes.

Ahead of the blockbuster exhibition, here’s everything you need to know about the romantic-hued stone with rising investment value:

1. Pink diamonds are eye-wateringly expensive because of their scarcity — they are among the rarest natural gems on Earth and account for less than 0.01% of total global diamond production. In November 2020, Australia’s Argyle Mine, one of the world’s best sources for pink and brown diamonds, closed. During the 37 years that it was operational, it produced more than 865 million carats of rough diamonds — though the majority of pink ones discovered were under a single carat each. The CTF Pink Star, Williamson Pink Star and Graff Pink are the three most expensive pink diamonds to sell at auction to date. They went for $71.2 million, $57.5 million and $46 million respectively

2. Quite how pink diamonds form is still disputed by gemologists, but it isn’t like most other coloured diamonds, which get their colours from trace elements. Some think they owe their hue to plastic deformation, a geological process of extreme heat and pressure that permanently shifts a diamond’s carbon crystal lattice (a 3D network of carbon atoms) without breaking it. It’s most likely that this natural phenomenon took place as the diamond was forming, probably one to three billion years ago, meaning it may predate the first multicellular life on Earth by more than a billion years
3. The stones are assessed according to their hue, tone and saturation. The latter refers to the intensity of colour which can be faint pink, very light pink, light pink, fancy light pink, fancy pink, fancy intense pink, fancy vivid pink or fancy deep pink. The more vividly intense the stone, the rarer and more expensive it is. ‘One of things that I love is the variation in hues,’ says Sophia Hirsh, the second-generation owner of family-run Hirsh London. Her father, Anthony, was one of the first jewellers in the UK to work with pink diamonds in the mid 1980s and the family have amassed an enviable collection of the pretty stones over the past 50 years. ‘Even if you have two stones that GA [Gemmological Association] certificates as the same, they actually don’t look anything alike. There’s a huge variety even in the same colour category. I love putting together pink diamonds and trying to match them up’

4. The large, natural pink diamonds that command huge prices at auction (think between $10,000 and $1 million per carat) are extremely popular with and fiercely coveted by gem collectors. However that doesn’t mean every-day wearers should feel like they’ve been left out in the pink-less cold. The key, Stirrat says, is to incorporate the smaller and more easily attainable stones into what will surely become your favourite and most-worn pieces. He fondly remembers making a pair of diamond stud earrings for a client, with a series of pink diamonds set into the side profile. His favourite commission, though, was for what Blackare calls the ‘Goa ring’, an asymmetric composition of natural white and rare pink Argyle diamonds. Stirrat designed the gentle twist through the shank to echo the flowing curves of a river — a subtle reference to his client’s Pisces star sign. Hirsh, who revels in pairing blue and pink diamonds together, counts a remarkable dragonfly brooch among her top designs. The intricately engineered treasure was crowned with a central kite-cut pink diamond and had ergonomic wings studded with more pink diamonds. ‘It’s a piece I one day want to see in a museum,’ she says
5. Historic pink diamonds often belonged to royalty or members of the aristocracy. Famous examples include the Darya-i-Noor in Iran’s Crown Jewels and the Williamson Pink Diamond, presented to Elizabeth II as a wedding gift in 1947. And the Grande Condé wasn’t the only pink diamond to weave its way into the hands of French nobility. The Hortensia, a 20-carat, peachy-pink diamond was purchased by Louis XIV of France in 1643 and stolen and recovered twice: first during the unrest of the French Revolution, and second, in 1830, from the Ministry of the Navy. As part of the surviving French Crown Jewels, it is on display in the Apollo Gallery in the Louvre. Marie Antoinette’s own fancy purple-pink, kite brilliant-cut pink diamond ring sold for $13,980,000 at auction in 2025, against an estimate of $7 million

'The Pink Diamond' at Musée Condé in the Château de Chantilly, in partnership with L’ÉCOLE, School of Jewelry Arts, supported by Van Cleef & Arpels, is open October 17, 2026, until January 3, 2027.

Winged, on all fours or slithering around: when it comes to jewellery, animal mascots come in all shapes, sizes and guises. It’s a design feature with history. Consider, for example, the animal motifs chosen by aristocratic families, guilds and royal courts to signal influence, power and, above all, centuries-spanning lineage. Henry VIII and Elizabeth I chose greyhounds — symbols of speed and loyalty; in France, Francis I, who reigned from 1515 to 1547, favoured the salamander, for resilience against fire and temptation.

Big cats have long been popular mascots. In a November 1990 issue of Country Life, Diana Scarisbrick enthused that ‘of all the naturalistic themes which have inspired jewellers since Antiquity, none strike the imagination more powerfully than the monarchs of the animal kingdom: lions, tigers and panthers.’

Scarisbrick then chronicled the motif's history, from lion pendants cast by Greek goldsmiths in 7BC, to the panther cameo ring worn by Prince Eugene of Savoy (1663-1736). The Prince was a brilliant military commander who, alongside the Duke of Marlborough, fought against and defeated the armies of Louis XIV. As stylish as he was savvy, his ring was carved from intricately patterned moss agate, by Roman artisans.

Big cats also inspired jewellery creations at the start of the 20th century: in Cartier’s Parisian ateliers, a 1915 bejewelled wristwatch was set with diamonds and onyx in tribute to the panther’s piebald pelt. The stealthy cats soon became synonymous with the important maison. Jeanne Toussaint, director of fine jewellery from 1933 to 1970, was nicknamed ‘panthere’; Peter Lemarchand, a designer from 1927 until his death in 1970, released them from the constraints of stylisation and brought them to life following long hours of observation at the Vincennes zoo, followed by intensive study of the Egyptian bronze figures of the cat goddess, Bastet, in the Louvre.

As such, panther-shaped Cartier jewels are scattered across decades. In London, at expert dealer Susannah Lovis’s Burlington Arcade set-up, my vintage finds include a yellow gold panther brooch patterned with hand-applied black enamel and decorated with glinting emerald eyes (above), and a Cartier Panthère Lakarda ring in yellow gold, cleverly constructed to wrap around the finger. Both date to the nineties.

Another wild cat, the lion, has assumed authority of CHANEL. Its use in jewellery — in addition to fashion and beauty (it lent its name to the Le Lion Eau de Parfum, by in-house perfumer Olivier Polge) — is inspired by Gabrielle ‘Coco’ Chanel. The house's founder was born under the Leo star sign and lived her life surrounded by likenesses of the animal. Lion Emblematique is the name of one chapter of the brand’s latest high jewellery collection, Signes & Symboles. Among the treasures is the Lion Puissant necklace in white gold set with white diamonds, and the magisterial Lion Emblematique white, rose and yellow gold brooch, its mane frosted with yellow diamonds, white diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds and turquoise.

It’s all about the snake at Bvlgari. The Italian maison, which was founded in 1884 Rome by Greek master silversmith Sotirios Voulgaris, presented its first Serpenti bracelet watch in 1948. The now iconic creation was fitted with a tactile, scaley Tubogas bracelet, in homage to both Roman and Greek mythology which promoted the reptile as a symbol of healing, renewal and protection. The first watch soon evolved into a larger collection of timepieces, and went on to inspire necklaces, rings and more. Among this year’s snake-like novelties is a pink gold Serpenti ring set with two pear-shaped sapphires, 22 fancy sapphires and 132 pavé-set diamonds (below).

Avian mascots have been all the rage at Tiffany & Co. ever since important jewellery designer Jean Schlumberger dreamt up his Bird on a Rock design, a gold and gem-encrusted cockatoo perched happily on top of a large, colour gemstone in 1965. Schlumberger was stirred into action by the exotic birds he saw while travelling through the Caribbean and Asia. There have been myriad variations of the Bird on a Rock since including, in September, Bird on a Rock Feathers, a new high jewellery suite that seeks to celebrate the bird’s plumage. Rings, earrings and more have been assembled from individually sculpted and carefully interlocking feathers in gold and platinum. Some of the pieces are studded with diamonds.

Insects, too, make for mascots in jewellery design. Bees have been important to Chaumet since 1804, when founder Marie-Étienne Nitot became the official jeweller to Napoleon Bonaparte. The emperor chose the golden bee to replace the royal fleur-de-lis of the old Bourbon monarchs, not only to signal the changing of the guard, but to establish deep historical ties with France’s oldest sovereigns — and, therefore, project his own legitimacy. In 1653, golden bee-like ornaments (it turns out they were actually cicadas) were discovered in Tournai in the tomb of Childeric I, the founder of the Merovingian dynasty, the ruling family of the Frankish peoples from the 5th century until 751, and father of Clovis.

The Place Vendôme maison pays tribute to its illustrious history, by continuing to author bee-influenced designs across high and fine jewellery collections. Two dinky bees decorate a white gold, diamond and sapphire ring. Less figurative pieces lean into geometric honeycomb patterns.

The bee is also a mascot at Dior. In his memoirs, Christian Dior likened his Paris atelier at 30, Avenue Montaigne to ‘a little beehive bursting with activity’, populated by his ‘bees’, or highly skilled seamstresses. A Rose des Vents multi-charm necklace, which launched this month, buzzes with tiny gold, diamond and hardstone bees (above).

Earlier this year, Van Cleef & Arpels debuted their Lucky Spring collection and butterflies feature in five pieces, including a brooch and a long necklace — the delicate animal’s wings rendered in lapis lazuli and blue agate, to match the green agate foliage and mother-of-pearl flowers.

Van Cleef & Arpels is also known for its long love affair with ladybirds, dating back to the 1930s. In the Lucky Spring offering, the traditional good luck charm appears in rose gold, onyx and red carnelian form, in rings, bracelets and a stand-out long necklace. The plucky, polka-dot beetle is a favourite of the Country Life team too, and we’ve hidden a picture of one on every front cover since the middle of 2019.

Last, but by no means least, to horses, who reign supreme at Hermès. The luxury French brand's former chairman, Jean-Louis Dumas, once said that the majestic creatures were their first clients — a nod to the fact that Hermès started life as a harness and saddlery workshop.

Hermès’s new high jewellery collection, Into the Horsescape, celebrates this rich equine heritage. It totals 90 pieces — the largest offering to date — 22 of which are one-of-a-kind. Look out for the Galop Hermès cuff whose two sculptural horse’s heads hug the wrist and more abstract, horseshoe-adjacent pieces from the Centaur chapter.

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Since the dawn of time, pearls have won human hearts, from queens to brides and philosophers — and it’s not hard to see why.

1. Pearls ought to be the eighth wonder of the world. They are created by bivalves — highly sensitive marine animals with shells in two halves — of which there are 9,000 species, including oysters and mussels. If anything squeezes its way into these shells, such as a tiny parasite or a grain of sand, the bivalve will very occasionally respond to the irritant by slowly coating it in something soft. In the case of oysters, the substance is called ‘nacre’ and the resulting object is, of course, a pearl

2. Unlike any other valuable and coveted gem, pearls emerge fully formed. They don’t require cutting or polishing (or even, for that matter, setting) to reveal their loveliness

3. There was a period during the 1980s when the ‘twin set and pearls’ was nigh ubiquitous, to the extent that they subsequently fell out of fashion and were briefly considered passé. It is probably the only time in human history when this was the case and it was swiftly over — there’s a reason Country Life’s Frontispiece, the most famous page in publishing, is known affectionately as ‘Girls in Pearls’

4. Real pearls (that is to say both natural and cultured) come in a wide variety of colours, from pale white to a metallic black. The colour is determined by the variety of oyster in which they have been grown. Different countries specialise in different colours. For example, Australia has always been known for its large, white pearls, whereas Fiji grows a range of distinctive hues, from pastel shades of yellow to intense shades of aubergine

5. Julius Caesar’s primary motive for invading Britain in 55BC was that the country was a major source of saltwater pearls. Wealthy ancient Egyptian women were buried with theirs. In ancient Greece, they were given to brides on their wedding day to stop them crying. Elizabeth I had 3,000 gowns and 80 wigs decorated with pearls. During the 19th century, they accounted for three-quarters of the jewellery sold in America

Country Life's top pearl picks

Had you been invited to join James I and Anne of Denmark for the first royal performance of The Merchant of Venice in the Banqueting Hall of the Palace of Whitehall on the night of February 10, 1605, I am sure that on arrival you would have been struck by the smell (pitch from the torches, crushed strewing herbs and heavy perfumes) and the noise (gossiping courtiers, musicians tuning up their hautboys and viols).

However, what really would have caught your attention would have been the jewellery. The period between the mid 16th century (after Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries and confiscated their treasures) and the mid 17th century (when Charles I, the last of our kings to wear an earring, was executed) was a golden age for jewellery.

One visitor described its commercial epicentre, Cheapside, as the ‘most remarkable thing in London’, going on to say that its craftsmen offered more magnificent jewels than ‘in all the shops in Milan, Rome, Venice and Florence’.

Demand was so great that some of the most talented jewellers in Europe moved to England. Indeed, Henry VIII made Peter van der Wale, from Antwerp, the ‘King’s Jeweller’, and later Elizabeth I made John Spilman, a German, the ‘Queen’s Jueller’ — and the Jewel House in the Tower of London became the repository for unimaginable wealth.

Not that our nation’s passion for jewels was confined to royalty and the aristocracy. There were jewellers in every important town and city. Journeymen served the more rural areas and itinerant chapmen sold inexpensive pieces at the innumerable fairs.

The growing popularity of jewellery can partly be explained by the fact that the 16th century was a time of increased prosperity for the country and its rulers. Henry VIII and his court used jewels to reflect their status, but by the time of the first Stuart king, jewellery had become much more than an expression of power. It was given and received in exchange for (or in anticipation of) favours. It was used to declare love, mark significant events and commemorate the dead. It could signify a membership or act as a memento mori. Even the well educated believed that certain gems had the ability to protect, heal and attract good fortune. Above all else, jewellery was how those with a position in society expressed themselves.

So, it was not by chance that Shakespeare incorporated gems and jewels into many of his plots: The Merchant of Venice, of course, but also Cymbeline, All’s Well That Ends Well, Macbeth, Othello and Hamlet. Nor is it a coincidence that they are mentioned in almost every play or sonnet he ever wrote. He knew his audience — an audience in which the men wore as much, if not more, jewellery than the women.

To attend The Merchant of Venice, the King would almost certainly have sported one of his famous Hat Jewels, either the Mirror of Great Britain, which incorporated the 55.23-carat Sancy diamond (now in the Louvre) or the Three Brothers, three giant spinels (now lost).

He, and his male courtiers, would have been wearing gold and gemstone chains, pendants, bracelets, rings and brooches. Not to mention bejewelled accessories: hatbands, scent bottles, swords, sword belts, daggers, garters and watches. More than this, there would have been any number of diamonds and other coloured gemstones — rubies from Burma, spinels from Afghanistan, sapphires from Sri Lanka, emeralds from Colombia, garnets from Bohemia, turquoise from the Sinai Peninsula, opals from Hungary, pearls from the Persian Gulf — sewn into their clothes.

For Tudor and Jacobean men, according to historian Natasha Awais-Dean: ‘The entire body from head to toe acted as a site for the placing of jewels.’ Indeed, the Duke of Buckingham was described by a contemporary as being ‘manacled, fettered and imprisoned with pearls’. Earrings for men, if not universal, were not uncommon, as William Harrison, a clergyman, wrote: ‘Some lusty courtiers and gentlemen of courage do wear either rings of gold, stones or pearl in the ears.’ The Chandos portrait, believed to be the only painting of Shakespeare from life, shows him with a simple gold hoop in his left ear.

The Banqueting Hall, by the way, was not large enough to accommodate the court. Only a few weeks earlier, one attendee had written that there was such a crush: ‘It were infinite to tell you what losses there were of chains, jewels, purses and such like loose wear.’ A taste of what was to come.

The Reformation, Cromwell and the French Revolution each had the effect of reducing the amount of jewellery that Western men wore so that by 1800, according to J. C. Flügel, they had ‘abandoned their claim to be considered beautiful’. Happily, this sad state of affairs is now being corrected and, once again, male jewellery is back in fashion. Shakespeare would have approved.

This feature originally appeared in the July 15, 2026, issue of Country Life. Click here for more information on how to subscribe

When one British nobleman wanted to propose to his girlfriend and it was clear that no ordinary diamond would do, he turned to Karine Zacharias of KZACHARIAS, formerly of Gem Trails. ‘The bride said that, if she ever got married, she wanted an 18th-century, pear-shaped diamond from the Golconda mine. It was a very particular and exclusive piece,’ explains Karine.

Eight months and €800,000 later, the five-carat diamond was acquired through her network of Indian contacts, gathered when she was living in Jaipur. (The girlfriend said yes.)

Karine is one of a number of jewellery detectives using an extensive network to replace a loved piece that has been lost or stolen (although finding the exact item is another matter). Another common request is furnishing a nostalgic ancestor with a beautiful piece similar to one that their grandmother once owned.

Lee Siegelson in New York shares this enthusiasm for sleuthing: ‘I had someone request a specific Cartier bangle owned by the Duchess of Windsor. I knew where it was and I was able to get it quickly and offer it to the client, who purchased it and was thrilled.’

Each request is different and Lee keeps track of who owns important pieces wherever possible: ‘The ideal scenario is when someone asks for something and I already know where it is — or I already own it.’

He relies mostly on phone calls and his established and trusted contacts. ‘The big reveal is exciting, when you’ve managed to acquire the right object, but the behind-the-scenes detective work might appear boring to observers.’

Fuelling the market for jewellery sleuths is a surge in interest in Art Deco pieces and signed works by the likes of Suzanne Belperron, Louis Comfort for Tiffany and Andrew Grima. Tutti Frutti by Cartier is in hot demand and there’s a surprising resurgence in brooches.

Another sleuth who thrills in the chase is Guy Burton of St James Street jewellery emporium Hancocks, who also helps with replacing pieces that have been stolen. ‘The reality is that the likelihood of finding the exact same jewel is very slim and expectations need to be managed from the start,’ he reflects. ‘Pictures of the original pieces are absolutely essential, so we always recommend keeping good records of your jewellery collection. An important place to consider starting with is the Art Loss Register and we would be able to do research through our international sources to see if the item is on the market.’

If the original can’t be found, Guy is likely to be able to locate something similar. Auction houses are another good source. Don’t discount smaller ones, such as the well-respected Chiswick Auctions and Fellows in Birmingham, but the big three are, of course, Sotheby’s, Christie’s and Bonhams, especially when it comes to tracking down standout gemstones.

‘I have a very important private client who collects top-quality gemstones,’ says Mei Y, the then director of private sales (jewellery) at Christie’s. ‘She wanted a pair of very rare yellow Zimmi diamonds. We found them for her in Switzerland by trawling through cutters and manufacturers and set them into ear studs.’

Kristian Spofforth, head of Sotheby’s London jewellery sales, is often tasked with trying to trace or replace a stolen piece. ‘It can be really hard if the piece is very old, as, sadly, people give descriptions, not records,’ he explains. ‘If it’s from a large jewellery house, such as Van Cleef & Arpels, we can contact the company and say Mr X bought this in 1942. Its archive department is often able to help.’

When the search proves successful, however, the rewards are rich. ‘When the client says “that is exactly like my grandmother’s, it’s what I’ve been looking for”, it’s really satisfying,’ concludes Kristian.

Daniel Brush, who died in 2022, was a one-off, a phenomenon, a sort of genius without portfolio, a maker of marvellous objects. His output was tiny and he usually hung on to what he produced for decades before parting with it, if he parted with it at all. He never accepted a commission, seldom exhibited, didn’t have a dealer and sold only when and to whom he pleased. For these reasons, hardly anyone got to see, let alone own, the things he made.

Despite or perhaps because of his Sasquatch-like elusiveness, a retrospective of his work at New York’s Museum of Art and Design in 2012 was the best attended show in the museum’s history.

Now another opportunity to see a significant cross-section of his work has arisen. ‘Daniel Brush: The Art of Line and Light’, at Van Cleef & Arpels’ L’Ecole in Paris until October 2, 2026, comprises 75 pieces spanning most though not quite all of his career. There are some exquisite drawings, jagged, fraught and intense. There are sculptural, totemic objects of profound mystery in steel and gold. There are brooches and cuffs, some whimsical, some transcendent, in precious gemstones, Bakelite and ultralight NASA metal alloys — wearable sculptures that, for better or worse, earned Daniel a reputation as a jeweller (the finest since Benvenuto Cellini, in the opinion of no less an authority than Christie’s chairman and jewellery supremo, François Curiel).

I got to know Daniel and his wife Olivia in the mid-2000s and visited them whenever I was in New York. Their apartment on West 24th Street was itself a kind of installation, a 5,000-square-foot, open-plan living-working space and a mirror of their shared life and enthusiasms. Olivia is an artist who works primarily in textiles; Daniel’s Loose Threads — my favourite of his works, magnificently displayed in its entirety in Paris — is a moving tribute to her tendency to end each day covered in squiggly bits of yarn.

There’s such diversity among Daniel’s works that it’s difficult to believe they sprang from the same consciousness or were wrought by the same pair of hands. His conversation was no less eclectic. Looking at the transcript of our last meeting, I see that he spoke, for the best part of six hours, about cowboy boots, German bisque dolls, Bugatti engines, endangered species, the Noh concept of yugen, macaroons, calligraphy, snaphaunces, Hedy Lamarr, Vladimir Horowitz, Modern Farmer magazine, machine guns, mimesis, fishmongers, ballet, Scotch whisky, Polaroid film, ‘classic seven’ Upper East Side apartments, punctuation marks and Casio G-Shock digital watches. Among other things.

What’s the line through, the loose thread of connection? People ooh and ah endlessly about Daniel’s almost superhuman manipulation of materials, particularly metals. But curiosity, not virtuosity, is, I think, the key. He loathed the ‘v’ word. Virtuosity for its own sake meant nothing to him. Technique interested him greatly, but only as a means, not an end, a way to get things done. He was fascinated by the way well-made objects can serve as a direct and intimate link between artist and audience.

Every one of the pieces on display in Paris might be considered in terms of line and light. Some of them fit the bill to perfection: the astonishing Remembrance of Things Present sequence of ink drawings, for instance, which are all about line, and the mesmeric engraved steel sculptures, Thinking About Monet, which are all about colour.

And yet, while taking in the show, I was also reminded of something that usually happened when I went to see Daniel and Olivia at the studio — not every time, but more often than not. Shortly after I arrived Daniel would say: ‘Shut your eyes and open your hand. Here. Now close your hand and hold on to this.’ It would be something he’d made — maybe something he’d finished that morning, or 30 years ago. For as long as the object remained invisible in my closed hand, considerations of line and light were, of course, irrelevant. Daniel was inviting an act of imaginative engagement based solely on touch, a response to what I could feel but not see. I recall his fondness for Native American dreamcatchers — objects intended both to bring on dreams and to banish them while under the influence of hallucinogens in order to commune directly with the spirit world. ‘Can a jewel do that?’ he asked. ‘Can a jewel take your breath away, in and of itself, so that it doesn’t even have to be worn? Can it be held in your hand so you dream? Can it become an intimate sculpture without a utilitarian function?’

The questions were rhetorical. His belief that a jewel could do those things was absolute and unwavering.

‘So, you know,’ he went on, ‘I got this wonderful note the other day, from this sensational guy. I love it. He said he has one of my things in a fitted box in his study, where he reads about art. And every once in a while he opens the box with his eyes closed and touches it, because he wants to experience it as if he were blind. God, I love that. I absolutely love that. I keep thinking and hoping, the more I engage with people, that it’s not just the tactile nature of it, it’s that private, quiet, removed, you know, secret kind of thing… You’re engaging with another person you don’t know but you’ve become intimate with. It’s such an odd transference.’

The chance to see so much of Daniel’s work, so elegantly displayed under one roof, is unlikely to be repeated any time soon. Make your way to Paris and let the transference begin.

‘Daniel Brush: The Art of Line and Light’ is at L’Ecole School of Jewellery Arts, supported by Van Cleef & Arpels, Hôtel de Mercy-Argenteau, Paris, until October 4, 2026. Admission is free upon reservation. Click here for more information.

The base hue should be a deep, saturated reddish purple. Not blue purple, not lilac, not violet. What separates a fine amethyst from a good amethyst, however, is not the body colour, but the flashes — the secondary play of colour that appears when the stone is moved. As the gem is turned, the dominant purple should resolve into discrete glimpses of crimson and sapphire blue. Under candlelight, it should warm and redden.

Little wonder that this exquisite, subtle, complex gemstone has been beloved of royalty ever since it was first discovered in Egypt more than 5,000 years ago. Indeed, amethyst is to be found everywhere from Tutankhamen’s tomb to Russia’s Imperial Treasury, not to mention in our own Crown jewels: St Edward’s Crown, the Sovereign’s Sceptre with Cross and the Sovereign’s Orb all feature amethysts.

In medieval times, it was so prized that it was considered what later became known as one of the five cardinal gems, together with diamonds, sapphires, emeralds and rubies. Today, it is favoured by many of the great jewellery houses: Cartier, Bulgari, Tiffany & Co., Pomellato, Harry Winston, Van Cleef & Arpels… actually, it would be quicker to list the jewellers that don’t love amethyst.

Yet the gem’s enduring popularity belies a complicated history. Its story really starts with Mentuhotep IV, the last pharaoh of the Eleventh Dynasty, who, in about 1995BC, established an amethyst mine at Wadi el-Hudi, in one of the most arid and inhospitable — I can vouch for this because I’ve been there — parts of the Eastern Desert.

This mine, and one established in another part of the Sahara about 2,000 years later, produced pretty much the world’s entire supply of amethyst until a deposit was identified in Idar-Oberstein in Germany towards the end of the 14th century. Even then, its rarity and beauty assured its position as one of (if not) the most expensive and highly valued gems of all time.

The word ‘amethyst’ derives from the Greek amethystos — literally, ‘that which does not inebriate’, and in addition to preventing drunkenness it was credited, according to Pliny, with all sorts of other powers, including warding off locusts. Marbodus (whose De Lapidibus was the most copied lapidary text of the Middle Ages) went further and said that it repelled evil thoughts, made the wearer vigilant in business, protected against poison and ensured victory in battle.

Possibly because the Book of Exodus lists amethyst among the 12 stones set in the breastplate of the High Priest Aaron or because purple is the colour of penitence, from at least the 13th century onwards, it became the ‘bishop’s stone’ and was used in episcopal rings. Indeed, when Bishop Thomas Bek of St David’s, Wales, died in 1293, he insisted on being buried with his amethyst ring.

Catherine the Great was also obsessed with amethysts. After seizing power from her husband in 1762, she gave permission to two Italian lapidarists to search for the gem in the Urals. Not only were they successful — mining began in 1868 — but the quality was like nothing seen before. Indeed, ever since, the finest amethysts have been described (erroneously — the gem dealers of the day obviously weren’t that strong on geography) as ‘Siberian’. Most of Catherine’s jewellery is in the Kremlin Armoury, although Christie’s sold a pair of her spectacular amethyst and diamond girandole earrings in 2007 for about £185,000 — a bargain, in my opinion.

Catherine lived long enough to enjoy the fruits of her patronage, but died 28 years before the dramatic amethyst events of 1825. An anonymous German immigrant to Brazil, who knew the Idar-Oberstein mines, stumbled across what proved to be a massive deposit of amethyst, sparking a sort of amethyst rush. Immigrants from the same part of Germany began to ship the rough back home for cutting — and the price tumbled. In a very short period, amethyst became a semi-precious rather than a precious gemstone.

Since then, it’s transpired that amethyst is not rare at all: the Brazil mines are still producing and there are impressive deposits in Uruguay, Zambia, Madagascar and Morocco (which rivals the finest Siberian material). It is a fantastic case study of the relationship between the beauty of an object, its rarity and its market value.

I think it says everything about the British monarchy that their enthusiasm for amethyst was not affected by its drop in price. The Kent Amethysts — a parure of necklace, three brooches, earrings and hair combs — (which belonged to Queen Victoria) were frequently worn by Elizabeth II, who commissioned her own pair of floral amethyst brooches. Queen Camilla often wears amethyst, as does Princess Michael of Kent, as does The Princess of Wales. ‘A thing of beauty,’ as Keats pointed out, ‘is a joy for ever.'

This feature originally appeared in the June 17, 2026, issue of Country Life. Click here for more information on how to subscribe.

Before Beatlemania, before Lisztomania, before tulip mania, before egomania, pyromania, kleptomania, bibliomania, dipsomania, nymphomania – long, long before any of those manias, there was Egyptomania, the mother of all manias.

The term was coined in the 1920s, but the phenomenon it describes goes back at least a further 2,000 years. The Greeks were smitten. The Romans were obsessed. Napoleon went nuts. The Victorians threw ‘mummy unwrapping’ parties. And when, in November 1922, Howard Carter revealed the ‘wonderful things’ he’d found in Tutankhamun’s tomb in the Valley of the Kings, Egyptomania really kicked off.

The proximate cause of the current bout was the opening of the Grand Egyptian Museum, just outside Cairo, virtually in the shadow of the pyramids of Giza. The official opening took place in November 2025, though that was only the culmination of a series of soft openings that had taken place over the preceding years.

The museum’s extended soft-opening phase coincided with a marked increase in the number of luxury cruise ships plying the Nile. Both the new museum and the new cruises attracted a great deal of attention in the international press. This can’t have hurt either.

Among the most lavish expressions of the latest craze is the launch this month of a new high-jewellery collection, ‘Fascinating Egypt’, from the venerable Parisian maison of Van Cleef & Arpels. The collection comprises 180 pieces celebrating all things Ancient Egyptian in gemstones and precious metals. The usual motifs and cast of characters are present: lotus flowers and papyrus reeds, gods and goddesses, pharaohs and queens, sacred animals and mythological creatures, suns, moons, hieroglyphs and symbols. My own favourite is a series of small pieces that, with their deliberately jagged edges and incomplete imagery, resemble fragments of larger jewels and are apparently intended to look as though they’ve just been ‘unearthed’.

In its abundant variety, the collection serves as a glittering reminder of the seemingly endless adaptability of the Ancient Egyptian aesthetic to Western tastes. Like a few bars’ worth of mariachi-style trumpet thrown into a pop song, a little bit of Ancient Egypt can go a long way to creating a vibe, a feel, that’s both reassuringly familiar and scintillatingly exotic.

The ‘Fascinating Egypt’ collection is by no means Van Cleef & Arpel’s first foray into Nilotic territory. The maison was quick to respond to Howard Carter’s great discovery of late 1922, issuing Ancient Egyptian-inspired designs early the following year. Quick, but not as quick as certain others at the more popular end of the market. Less than a month after the tomb was opened, in time for Christmas, shops were overflowing with Tutankhamun-themed tat, from face-powder compacts to sarcophagus-shaped mechanical pencils. Even lemons, with precisely no connection to Egypt, were sold bearing a ‘King Tut Brand’ label.

In the 1930s Van Cleef & Arpels enjoyed a close relationship with living, breathing members of the Egyptian royal family, notably Queen Nazli and her daughters, Princesses Fawzia and Faiza. Needless to say, these famously discerning women weren’t interested in pieces in a ‘King Tut Brand’ style. For them, it was unadulterated Art Deco all the way.

Having admired the ‘Fascinating Egypt’ collection, I got to wondering about the nature of that fascination. What explains Ancient Egypt’s hold on the collective imagination? Peter Der Manuelean, a professor of Egyptology at Harvard University, had a good, succinct answer to that question. ‘Sometimes it feels like Ancient Egypt means something different to each of us, depending on what we bring to the table. There are scholarly perspectives, Egyptomania perspectives, Afrocentrist perspectives, fashion and design perspectives. But one thread that perhaps fascinates us all is the chasm of time between us and the land of the pharaohs – three-, four-, even five-thousand years. Were they still just like us? Were they nothing like us? Or is the answer somewhere in the middle?’

Somewhere in the middle of a gold, platinum, diamond, ruby, emerald and sapphire pendant necklace by Van Cleef & Arpels, maybe.

My first visit, now many years ago, to Jaipur in India, the jewellery capital of the world, could not have gone better. A private audience with Princess Diya of Rajasthan to view emeralds and rubies in the palace treasury. Excursions to Gem Palace, Amrapali, Surana and many of the other great Indian jewellery houses. Countless opportunities to handle and even wear breathtakingly beautiful (not to mention priceless) jewels. Endless perambulations through the noisy, colourful Johari Bazaar — the city’s old jewellery quarter — a mile-long road with innumerable side streets and alleyways lined with workshops, jewellers and gemstone dealers.

Yet the most satisfying part of the trip was the purchase of a pair of tiny, silver, antique amulets — one of a dog, the other of a lion — for less than £1.

The trader who sold them to me explained that amulets such as these date from 1800 onwards and were die-stamped from melted-down coins, then activated by a priest, monk or shaman.

The dog is the vahana (vehicle) of Bhairava, the fearsome aspect of Shiva, and warns of danger. The lion is the vahana of the goddess Durga and springs to the owner’s defence.

They are worn next to the skin by Hindus and Buddhists alike (in these and many other religions, body contact is considered a form of passive worship) as protection against evil spirits, disease, accidents, curses and every imaginable type of misfortune.

Since then, I have built up a collection of about 200 amulets — the oldest of which dates from about 3000BC — none of which was especially costly.

Given how highly prized the items the medievalist Sandra Hindman calls ‘meaningful jewels’ are, it is ironic that they also tend to be among the least expensive. Amulets are, in this respect, the epitome of affordable luxury.

Anyway, like Elvis Presley (who is famously reputed to have said: ‘I don’t want to miss out on heaven due to a technicality’), I often wear several amulets simultaneously. I certainly wouldn’t dream of undertaking an important journey without my St Christopher’s medal (he is the patron saint of travellers) or of stepping onto a boat without my red coral pendant (red coral, according to our sailor forefathers, is made of Medusa’s blood and protects against being shipwrecked).

My most unusual amulet is probably an elf-shot — a Neolithic flint arrowhead mounted in a decorated gold collar — from Denmark. The Vikings believed that supernatural beings called álfar shot the flints at human beings to cause sudden illness and that the best way to prevent this was to suspend one around the neck.

I am also deeply attached to a Mughal Navaratna pendant set with nine gemstones corresponding to the nine celestial bodies of Vedic astrology, which stops malign planetary influence; and a St Paul’s Tongue, mistaken during the Middle Ages for a snake’s tongue (actually a fossilised shark tooth) and used as an antidote to poison.

Logically, of course, the idea that an inanimate object can possess magical or spiritual powers is ridiculous. Nevertheless, I derive considerable comfort from my amulets and feel anxious when I’m not wearing at least one. I’d be embarrassed by this if it weren’t for the fact that I am in excellent company.

Amulets are universal. They are found in almost every culture and in every period of history. Catherine de’ Medici wore an astral talisman made from metals melted during favourable astrological transits, the molten alloy mixed with human and goat’s blood. Charles I sported a jewelled pendant depicting St George slaying the dragon, set with more than 400 diamonds. Wallis Simpson wore a bespoke Cartier charm bracelet with nine gem-set Latin crosses.

Despite all our advances in knowledge and understanding, amulets are in as widespread use today as they ever have been. After all, it is part of the human condition to experience the same uncertainties, challenges and difficult realities of life. Even if one doubts their efficacy, each has its own story; each provides a window into someone else’s world.

Tellingly, one of the most significant collections of amulets in the UK is to be found in the Science Museum. Actually, with the exception of my wedding ring, there are no items of jewellery I value more. This is obviously how Eleanor de Bohun, Duchess of Gloucester, felt about a reliquary jewel she bequeathed to her son Humphrey, referring to it, when she wrote her will on August 9, 1399, as ‘the thing of mine I have loved the best’.

This feature originally appeared in the May 20, 2026, issue of Country Life. Click here for more information on how to subscribe.

At last week's RHS Chelsea Flower Show, several visitors were distracted from the roses and ranunculus by something very shiny, glinting in among the foliage.

It was The Palace Collection, an astonishing, 56-piece assortment of jewellery by Boodles, designed in association with Historic Royal Palaces.

The collection — which was on display, close to the Country Life stand — is made up of 11 suites, each inspired by a minute detail from one of the palaces.

Queen Charlotte’s Cottage suite adopts the floral motifs adorning the property of the same name's Picnic Room, hand-painted by her daughter, Princess Elizabeth, and a pair of Tudor Skyline earrings feature the twist of one of Hampton Court Palace’s chimneys (there are 241 in total — each unique). The Silk Mantua suite is one of our favourites, inspired by an exquisite mantua crafted in Spitalfields, London, once the hub of silk weaving in the late 18th century, and now in the care of Historic Palaces. The floral and leaf motifs and the colours of the brocaded silk have been cleverly 'replicated' using fastidiously-matched stones.

Collectively, they mirror the artisanship that made the palaces so magnificent, capturing the histories and stories that sparkle within their walls in equally sparkling forms.

Boodles has form when it comes to partnering with great British institutions having previously worked with the National Gallery and The Royal Ballet. And they had plenty of inspiration this time round, courtesy of the six palaces that make up Historic Palaces: the Tower of London, Hampton Court, Kensington Palace, Banqueting House, Kew Palace, and Hillsborough Castle.

From £15,000. For more information, visit the Boodles website.

A long, leisurely lunch in Arlington, St James’s, SW1, with Paddle 655. There has been much discussion in jewellery circles about the identity of Paddle 655. Those who witnessed him placing the winning bid for the Fabergé Winter Egg when it was auctioned by Christie’s a few months ago were able to describe the dog he had brought with him — a Bedlington whippet called Drummer — but not the man holding its lead.

He himself attributed his unexpected Scarlet Pimpernel status to the fact that so few people bother to attend even the important sales anymore. Auction rooms that would once have been packed to the gunwales with overexcited dealers, buyers and sellers are now dominated by anonymous banks of telephones and computers. I am delighted, therefore, to be able to reveal that the new guardian of the most expensive three-minute egg ever — it cost £22,895,000 and took only 165 seconds to buy — is none other than Kieran McCarthy, joint managing director of Wartski, the royal jewellers.

Between 1885 and 1917, Tsar Alexander III and later Tsar Nicholas II commissioned 50 bejewelled Easter eggs for the tsarinas — each containing a ‘surprise’ — from Fabergé. The first imperial egg was a white enamel shell that opened to reveal a solid-gold yolk, which itself opened to reveal a golden hen with ruby eyes. Inside the hen was a miniature diamond crown and a ruby pendant, both sadly now lost. The concept was inspired by an 18th-century ivory hen egg in the Danish Royal Collection, although it was an English king, Edward I, who, in 1290, actually came up with the idea of creating extravagantly decorated eggs as royal gifts.

The Winter Egg of 1913 is the most spectacular, inventive and unusual of the Imperial series. It was the only one designed by a woman, Alma Pihl, and is carved from rock crystal to resemble a piece of ice. The interior is engraved with frost patterns, and the exterior is set with hundreds of tiny rose-cut diamonds in platinum snowflake motifs. The ‘surprise’ is a platinum-and-diamond trellis basket holding a posy of finely carved white-quartz wood anemones with demantoid garnet centres representing spring.

Nicholas II paid 24,600 roubles for this particular egg — a small fortune at the time — especially when you consider that the materials used were relatively inexpensive. What makes the piece so valuable is the artistic expression, the workmanship, the provenance and the fact that it was conceived and made by Fabergé.

Peter Carl Fabergé took over his father’s St Petersburg jewellery shop in 1872 and in less than a decade had transformed it into the greatest jewellery house in the world. Carl was a creative, organisational and marketing genius. At the firm’s peak he employed about 500 craftsmen and, between 1882 and 1917, it is estimated that they produced more than 150,000 wonderful objects, from cigarette cases to gardening secateurs, from tiaras to bell pushes. He and his team rarely repeated an item — the house philosophy was one of constant invention and reinvention.

Did Fabergé help to create what might be considered a golden age of giving — at the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th century, royals, aristocrats and the wealthy were constantly presenting each other with costly little joujoux — or was he just riding a wave? Either way, his beautiful, elegant and joyful pieces, eggs, figurines, flowers, animals, jewellery, accessories and objets de fantaisie alike, remain a byword for luxury.

I was amazed to learn from Kieran that it is possible to start collecting Fabergé with as little as £4,000–£5,000. A lot of money, I know, but perhaps not so much when one considers you would possess something that was made by the very same craftsmen who created the Winter Egg.

This is the second time that Wartski has purchased it. In 1927, the firm announced that it had spent £100,000 on acquiring seized Russian treasures, including the Winter Egg from the Soviet Antiquariat. The records show that it cost them £450 and that it was sold on for £1,500 in 1934. The egg changed hands several times after that, disappearing for almost 20 years, before being rediscovered in a shoebox hidden under a bed. Kieran says that now Wartski has it back, they are in no hurry to part with it again.

He is considerably more interested in hunting down the Nécessaire Egg, which the firm sold in 1952 to someone recorded only as ‘A Stranger’ and that hasn’t been seen since. Significantly, Kieran wears a 16th-century poesy ring with the inscription ‘Live in hope’.

This article first appeared in the April 15 issue of Country Life. For more information on how to subscribe, click here.

The largest white diamond to be sold on the UK market in more than a decade will go up for auction today (March 17, 2026). The 26.36-carat diamond will be offered as part of Elmwood’s Fine Jewellery auction, with an estimate of £800,000 – £1 million.

The round brilliant-cut diamond is set in platinum and could be worn as an engagement ring — should the buyer, or buyer’s lucky recipient, feel so inclined.

Round brilliant-cut diamonds are, after all, one of the most popular engagement ring styles — perhaps because of their intense sparkle (courtesy of the stone’s multiple facets which bounce light around particularly well).

According to Elmwood’s, the last time a diamond of this scale went under the hammer in the UK was in 2017; when a 26.27-carat ‘Tenner’ diamond ring, that was previously purchased at a car boot sale for £10, was offered by Sotheby’s, and sold for £656,750.

Jo Kendrick, head of sales at Elmwood’s, branded the sale a ‘once in a decade’ opportunity. ‘This is an extraordinarily rare diamond. Its combination of size, VVS1 clarity and triple excellent cut is something you simply do not see in the UK market,’ they said.

‘This solitaire is a spectacular example of what makes white diamonds so prized by collectors worldwide.’

‘For a diamond of this size and importance, our first instinct was that it would go to an international buyer. Dubai, Hong Kong, Japan,’ added Samuel Hill, the founder of Elmwood’s.

‘However, we are seeing strong interest from several private collectors in the UK. The very nature of auctions is that anything can happen on the day and we are excited to see the outcome.’

An Art Deco sapphire and diamond bar brooch by Cartier, an unusual rubellite tourmaline smoky quartz and diamond ring by H. Stern, and a 2.02-carat yellow diamond ring are among the auctions other highlights.

White diamonds are known for their excellent clarity. The first white diamond was mined in India in 1642, by a Portuguese trader called Joao de Castella. The stones form under extreme pressure inside the Earth’s core, where temperatures reach up to 2,200℃.

In the 19th century, the Victorians popularised the use of these diamonds in engagement rings throughout England, Europe and the USA. They have also been believed to hold spiritual powers, by various cultures around the globe, and they are April’s birthstone.

For more information on the auction, visit Elmwood's website.

It is a story that involves two kings, a queen, a royal mistress, a cardinal, a confidence trickster and a prostitute. The plot is byzantine, including as it does forged letters, ingenious disguises, mistaken identities, opulent settings and an audacious theft. What became known as the Affair of the Diamond Necklace hastened, according to many historians, the French Revolution and was one of the reasons why Marie Antoinette was executed rather than exiled.

The story begins in 1772, when Louis XV commissioned an enormous diamond necklace for his maîtresse-en-titre, Madame du Barry. For 200,000,000 livres (about £12 million today), the royal jewellers Boehmer and Bassenge were to create a rivière consisting of 647 flawless, perfectly matched diamonds; a necklace so heavy that it would have to have diamond streamers down the back to prevent the wearer from toppling forward.

In 1774, Louis XV died. Undeterred, Boehmer and Bassenge completed the necklace and, in 1778, just after war had been declared on Britain, offered it to Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. For whatever reason — Thomas Carlyle quotes the queen as saying ‘We have more need of seventy-fours [ships] than necklaces’ — she refused it.

For the next two years, Boehmer and Bassenge hawked the necklace around the royal courts of Europe without success. In 1781, following the birth of the dauphin, they again tried to sell it to Louis XVI — and again were rebuffed. This was the year in which Jeanne de Valois-Saint-Rémy, an impoverished and unscrupulous young woman, began to insinuate herself into royal circles by pretending to be one of Marie Antoinette’s closest confidantes. In 1783, she achieved her greatest social success when she was taken up by Cardinal de Rohan — nearly twice her age, extremely wealthy and, frankly, not that bright.

De Rohan had lost all chance of preferment, having publicly insulted Marie Antoinette’s mother. He yearned to be accepted back at court and de Valois offered to carry a letter of apology to the Queen. The forged response de Valois brought back was, unsurprisingly, encouraging. Further forged letters convinced de Rohan that the Queen was in love with him and that he should give money to de Valois, which he did. Her problem now was that the cardinal kept pressing for a meeting with sa Majesté. How relieved de Valois must have been when she encountered a prostitute, Marie Nicole Leguay d’Oliva, who bore an uncanny resemblance to the Queen and was willing, for a fee, to take part in a practical joke.

Late on August 11, 1784, d’Oliva, posing as the Queen, met de Rohan in the gardens of Versailles. D’Oliva gave de Rohan a rose, saying: ‘You know what this means’ — before fleeing.

It was enough.

The following January, de Valois had no trouble persuading de Rohan that Marie Antoinette wished to purchase the necklace in secret, with him acting as her intermediary. He made a downpayment and took delivery of the necklace, passing it to a man he believed to be the Queen’s servant, but who was working for de Valois.

When, the following July, the jeweller demanded the second payment, he explained Marie Antoinette had not yet sent him any funds. When the Queen was approached, naturally, she denied all involvement. At this point, Louis XVI insisted on a trial because, he claimed: ‘The dignity and virtue of the Queen were outraged.’ The cardinal’s crime was not theft, but his presumption that Marie Antoinette was the sort of woman who would make a secret assignation with a lover.

The Affair of the Diamond Necklace became a cause célèbre. De Valois and her co-conspirators were found guilty (with the exception of d’Oliva) of stealing the necklace and imprisoned. De Rohan was found innocent, but stripped of his offices and forced to sell his estates to pay for the jewel. Marie Antoinette was also ruined, because the public believed she really had purchased the necklace. As Napoleon later said: ‘The Queen’s death must be dated from the Diamond Necklace Trial.’

What of the necklace?

De Valois broke it up and sold the diamonds, probably to Robert Gray, a London jeweller. There’s a replica of it on display as part of Marie Antoinette Style, currently at the V&A Museum in London. The exhibition also includes the Sutherland Diamonds and the Anglesey Diamond Négligé Necklace, both of which almost certainly incorporate the best of the original gems.

This feature originally appeared in the March 11, 2026, issue of Country Life. Click here for more information on how to subscribe.

We are only two months into it, but many signs point to a revival of sorts. In January, Hamnet actor Paul Mescal appeared on the cover of GQ with a Cartier bandeau-style headpiece — a white diamond-dusted treasure borrowed from the brand’s archives. Fresh from her Golden Globes win, Teyana Taylor sped from Los Angeles for Paris to attend the Schiaparelli haute couture show, to which she wore a tiara designed by the house’s creative director, Daniel Roseberry. In London, West End girl Lily Allen celebrated her latest album wearing a tiara made by jeweller Jennifer Behr in collaboration with British Vogue’s contributing editor Julia Hobbs. And Alexander Skarsgård wore a tiara from the same collection to host Saturday Night Live.

An iridescent addition to occasion dressing, as well as the new red carpet IT accessory, tiaras are a favourite for big-moment, once-in-a-lifetime events. Think weddings (see Violet Lindesay-Bethune, Viscountess Garnock, who wore her family’s Rutland tiara to her highly-publicised wedding) or a grand ball. Every year, footage of young women and men dancing at the Queen Charlotte’s Ball and Le Bal Des Débutantes circulates on social media. Vienna has a whole ball season. It kicks off in November. Tiaras encouraged. Programmes such as Bridgerton have played a part in the tiara’s renaissance, too: Susannah Lovis reported a 300% spike in searches for tiaras when the second season aired. Whatever the reason, the trend is being answered by heritage jewellers in London, Paris and beyond. While new, price on application pieces (if you have to ask…) are being tinkered with in master ateliers, tiaras from centuries past — each with their own story to tell — regularly go under the hammer at specialist dealers and auction houses. (It is worth noting that antique and vintage pieces are often more affordable in proportion to their quality.) One thing that is clear: all tiaras are a big investment (unless you go down the costume jewellery route and who are we to judge?).

Sadly, I don’t have an heirloom gem coming my way anytime soon, so one question loomed over me: where to buy a tiara in 2026?

Quest established, I first headed to London’s Pall Mall, the address of Humphrey Butler. Established in 2020 by a one-time auction house specialist, today the brand specialises in important estate and contemporary jewellery. There were three tiaras in stock when I enquired, including a late 19th-century diamond-set model with quatrefoil and bow-like figure-of-eight motifs (left). ‘Look for versatility,’ says resident expert Robert Leigh-Pemberton. He first noticed a renewed interest in antique tiaras a couple of years ago, and points to the wearability of models that can be converted into other pieces of jewellery. ‘Magnificent as [a tiara] may be, and no matter one's lifestyle, it is never going to be worn as often as one might hope if it can't be converted. Necklaces are the most common, but I have seen sets of earrings, bracelets and brooches formed by some 19th century models.’

Within walking distance of Humphrey Butler, there are more antique tiaras to be found at Bentley & Skinner. Jewellers by Royal Appointment, I am told that Bentley & Skinner have been selling diamond tiaras since 1880. Famous pieces include the Devonshire Tiara, a 1893 masterpiece that resides at Chatsworth House. Here, on Piccadilly, the selection includes Edwardian, Victorian and Belle Époque tiaras. My eye was drawn to a ribbon and bow motif style made by the brand in platinum and set with white diamonds framing a central old European cut diamond of 1.16-carats. Interestingly, Bentley & Skinner offers a hire service: for 1% of the retail value plus VAT, a tiara can be mine for 24 hours.

‘We have noted an increased uptick in interest for tiaras offered in our sales,’ Henry Bailey, the head of the jewellery department at auction house Christie’s, tells me. ‘Tiaras continue to capture and excite the imagination at our exhibitions of both seasoned collectors and one-off visitors, especially if they are associated with a story and rich provenance. Often, it is the stories behind the tiaras, as well as their craftsmanship and beauty, that captivate and resonate most strongly with collectors and the public alike.’ Past star lots include a late 19th-century ruby and diamond tiara worn by the 3rd Countess of Stradbroke at the coronation of Edward VII and sold on the open market for the first time, by the auction house, last year (right).

On the website of London antique and vintage jewellery expert Hancocks, I come across two late-Victorian tiaras. One is set with pearls, and both are frosted in white diamonds. They absolutely warrant a visit to the St James’s townhouse.

A contemporary tiara is my second option, and the best ones can be sourced in Paris. London jeweller De Beers recently opened a new boutique, its largest global flagship, on the Rue de la Paix in Paris. To mark the occasion, the diamond specialists launched Vibrations, a new, high jewellery line. The Echo Necklace was the write-home-about-it showpiece — a transformable design that can be worn six ways, including as a tiara.

At Dior, Victoire de Castellane, the creative director of Dior Joaillerie, has also had tiaras on her mind. An all-white, floral theme tiara detailed with white diamonds, white cultured pearls and white mother-of-pearl is part of her Diorexquis high jewellery collection, first unveiled last year. Belle Dior, the collection de Castellane presented earlier this year, includes an astrological-inspired tiara, topped with stars, moons and the sun, all realised in pink gold with diamonds, spessartite garnets, yellow sapphires and black opal on onyx doublets (below). It’s a playful reading of the trend.

While in Paris, it would be amiss to not visit Chaumet, on Place Vendôme. This is arguably tiara research ground zero. The heritage brand has a long history of crowning heads. ‘Chaumet became the leading house for acquiring tiaras in the 19th century,’ says the maison’s 13th head of workshop, Benoît Verhulle. ‘During this period, Marie-Etienne Nitot was appointed the Emperor's jeweller. Influenced by Empress Joséphine, an increasing number of court members aspired to emulate her style, which propelled the tiara to its zenith of popularity throughout those years.’

Notable, museum-worthy creations include the Wheat-ear Tiara, an 1811 confection finished for Empress Marie-Louise, and a part of the French crown jewels, and the 1930s Baroque Pearl Tiara, topped with a treasure-chest of important natural pearls. And Chaumet creates gems of equal stature to this day. This January, they presented the Envol high jewellery tiara, a contemporary take on a famous 1910 design that belonged to Gertrude Payne Whitney (the founder of New York’s Whitney Museum). Cast in blue tones, the Envol can be worn four different ways — including as a handheld mask.

Chaumet continues to offer a bespoke service, too, and employees use many of the same processes as their predecessors. ‘We incorporate new techniques such as scanning to precisely capture the shape of our clients' heads [too],’ says Verhulle, ‘ and create a 3D print of their head, and craft the tiara exactly to their measurements.’

Ready to order?

Monday, February 14, 1200. In the palaces, castles and manor houses of England, it was only a minor feast day, for St Valentine had not, as yet, become associated with romance. Nevertheless, romance was in the air — it being a widely held medieval belief that this was the day on which birds chose their mates for the coming year. Moreover, the educated classes (thanks to Eleanor of Aquitaine) had become obsessed with the concept of courtly love. It was the era of quests, chivalry and chaste devotion. Love tokens — especially gold rings — were much in vogue.

About this time, an unknown jeweller had the brilliant idea of engraving the outside of his gold rings with a few well-chosen words, thus launching a trend that would last for more than 600 years.

Gold rings with poesies (‘little poems’) — poésie being the Old French for ‘poetry’ — quickly became the single most popular type of jewellery in the country. They were exchanged by lovers, would-be lovers, family members and best friends, but their most common use was as a betrothal or wedding ring. Henry VIII gave a posy ring to Anne of Cleves inscribed: ‘God send me well to kepe.’ William of Orange gave one to Princess Mary inscribed: ‘I’le win and wear you if I can.’ Jewellers used to keep a stock of blank rings, and booksellers promoted inspirational handbooks, such as Loves Garland or Poſies for Rings, which was published in 1624.

I was still in my teens when a friend of my mother’s showed me his collection of posy rings. I was transfixed by their beauty — the soft, almost pure yellow gold, the finely wrought decoration (flowers, leaves, hearts and other symbols) and the elegant script, but what really fascinated me were the inscriptions. ‘I like my choyce.’ ‘True love appears/In midst of tears.’ ‘God has brought to pass that which unlikely was.’ It was as if I were listening to the voices of the long-dead givers and receivers.

The physical appearance of posy rings changed over time. Lombardic script was replaced by Gothic script, which, in turn, gave way to Roman capitals and then italics. Earlier rings carried much more decoration, too. Niello — a hard black paste — was used to fill in the letters and the costlier rings were enamelled in bright colours. The language of courtly love was, of course, Norman French (‘sans de partier’ or ‘without parting’) although some poesies were in Latin (‘Non Auri Sed Amor’ or ‘not gold but love’) and others in a sort of proto-franglais (‘Autre ne wile and evere you best’, which hardly needs translating). Later, they were almost all in English.

The biggest development, however, was the placement of the actual poesies. From the middle of the 16th century, the inscriptions were on the interior rather than the exterior of the hoops, because it was felt that this increased the ring’s magical powers. In 1623, a young woman was described as being so newly married that ‘the poesie of her wedding Ringe is scarce warm from the heat of her finger’ and the character in another 17th-century play says: ‘Whayt strange spells these rings have.’

The cultural importance of posy rings can be gauged from the many references made to them in literature, from George Herbert to Samuel Pepys, Robert Herrick to Lord Byron. Chaucer, in Troylus and Criseyde, speaks of the couple ‘pleying, interchangeden their ringe/Of which I can tell no scripture’. And when Shakespeare’s Hamlet asks: ‘Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?’ Ophelia responds: ‘’Tis brief, my lord.’ There is evidence, by the way, that Shakespeare had what would now be referred to as a side hustle writing poesies.

My favourite posy story relates to a ring the composer Thomas Whythorne apparently ordered in 1576. He instructed the goldsmith to engrave a poesy that would express his eternal commitment to the recipient. The result — ‘The eye doth find, the heart doth choose, and love doth bind till death doth loose’ — pleased him so much that he decided that if rejected (as he was) he would use it another time.

Regulations introduced in 1855, which required wedding rings to be extensively hallmarked so that there wasn’t much space for anything else, brought the age of the posy ring to an end. Appropriately enough, the V&A Museum has a ring in its collection bearing the inscription: ‘No more of that.’

This feature originally appeared in the February 11, 2026, issue of Country Life. Click here for more information on how to subscribe.

Much has been said about well, everything, in Emerald Fennell’s film adaptation of Wuthering Heights including the wardrobe choices (including Jacob Elordi's earring) for Margot Robbie's Cathy. In one scene, she appears in a Milchmädchen-inspired dress — a cellophane-like confection tied with a bow and a high-shine red latex-like skirt to match a high-shine red rubberised floor.

The real talking point, however, is surely the array of vintage brooches — many archival Chanel — sewn across her costumes and into her hair.

The word 'brooch' comes from the old French word ‘broche’, meaning ‘long needle’ — but the jewellery dates back to the Bronze Age, with the earliest examples thought to be from 3,000 BC. Now, they are becoming a high-profile feature of contemporary fashion, bolstered by a shift away from ultra-minimalism to something more expressive, and proving a low-commitment way to stamp your personal aesthetic onto an outfit.

‘There has been a big rise in interest in vintage brooches over the past year,’ says jewellery specialist Susannah Lovis, ‘from both men and women wanting to add a unique touch to their wardrobes.’

The advantages of vintage or antique pieces are ample: most are rare, handmade and have a rich history. Some are encrusted with gemstones and their aged aesthetic means even the ornate resist looking ostentatious. What is new, however, is their placement. Margot required seven metres of hair pieces to achieve her looks, but a brooch can easily find a home atop an ordinary bun or fastened to a clip or band.

The more delicate styles can be pinned onto the collar or cuffs of a shirt and larger ones could fix a silk scarf à la mode around the waist, or a woollen one draped over the shoulder. A turtleneck offers a neat pedestal for pinning, as do button-down jackets or knitwear.

Hats are no stranger to the brooch, either. Designs can add whimsy to the side of a fedora or be positioned directly on the front, as Coco Chanel so eloquently demonstrated.

The icing on the cake? Vintage and antique brooches don’t attract VAT, Susannah notes, ‘so there is a slight financial incentive, as well as more choice’.

Pin up, chuck.

Where to buy

• 1stDibs has an extensive range spanning pieces from the Edwardian era, to Christian Dior. You can filter your search by decade, though trawling through them all is thoroughly enjoyable
• Some incredible Cartier and 90s Chanel treasures regularly come up for auction at Sotheby's
• Head to Pragnell for all things Edwardian and Victorian
• Farfetch boasts a good pre-owned section, but you need to use the search term ‘pre-owned brooch’
• Don't forget to visit Susannah Lovis, who has specialised in vintage jewellery and watches for more than 25 years

This feature originally appeared in the February 18, 2026, issue of Country Life. Click here for more information on how to subscribe

Last month, Chanel celebrated its latest Coco Crush jewellery collection where all good Hollywood parties unfold — at the legendary Chateau Marmont hotel. New Chanel ambassador Gracie Abrams (daughter of Star Trek director J.J. Abrams) was in attendance, plus Heated Rivalry breakout star Connor Storrie and singer Lily Allen — whose impromptu performance of ‘Pussy Palace’, from her latest, headline-making breakup album, went viral on Instagram.

(You can read about the New York home she shared with her now ex-husband, here.)

One wonders if, between the main course and pudding, Gracie, Connor and Lily paused to reflect on the chain of events that brought them together in that moment. A chain of events stretching back more than a century, to France, and to one man’s love of all things equestrian.

In the late 19th century, Étienne Balsan (1878-1953) — the son of a wealthy textile business owner whose fabrics swaddled the French and British armies in the Boer War — was sent, from France to England, where he was enrolled in boarding school.

You might expect to read, perhaps, that the schoolchild turned up with a pencil case, or a trunk full of tuck, or a framed photograph of his parents. But no. He arrived with a dog — and then purchased two horses for hunting, an activity which he apparently spent a lot more time on than he did attending classes.

Balsan went on to be an officer in a light cavalry regiment, but renounced his career, making it clear to his two older brothers (one of whom married Consuelo Vanderbilt, after her divorce from the Duke of Marlborough) that he didn’t want much to do with the family business either. Instead, he would breed horses and compete in polo matches out of the Château de Royallieu, located near Compiègne, in northern France. Sadly, the handsome, ivy-clad building was requisitioned by the Nazis during the Second World War as an internment and deportation camp, and subsequently destroyed.

Today, Balsan is better-known as a playboy and as one of Gabrielle ‘Coco’ Chanel’s (1883-1971) lovers, but the two remained close friends up until his death and he wielded an indelible — if often misappropriated — effect on her eponymous brand.

As well as multiple romantic partners, including Arthur ‘Boy’ Capel, another polo player and her future sponsor, Balsan introduced Chanel to horses. ‘The only happy times were those I spent on horseback, in the forest,’ she said of the time she spent at Royallieu (it wasn’t a wholly happy experience, likely because the polo player also had a mistress-in-residence, Emilienne d’Alençon). ‘I learned to ride, for up until then I hadn’t the first idea about riding horses.’ During this formative period of her life, Chanel took to wearing tweeds, riding breeches and tailored equestrian jackets, traditionally sported by men — in stark, and probably deliberate, contrast to d’Alençon, who donned great gowns and dotted veils.

Chanel the brand was founded several years later, in 1909, initially just manufacturing and selling hats. A mere decade later, having expanded into womenswear, its enigmatic founder was raising eyebrows with her avant-garde designs that rejected 20th-century corset culture in favour of clothes that prioritised comfort and functionality. They are clothes that we still reach for, on an almost daily basis, today. Some, if we are lucky, made by Chanel; others from brands shamelessly inspired by them. Think: the little black dress; the soft-structured tweed suit, inspired by Scottish sportswear; jersey sweaters, cut from fabric previously reserved for men’s underwear; and later, two-tone shoes whose beige body elongated the leg and black to-cap helped to conceal wear and tear. (Matthieu Blazy sent a barely-updated iteration down the catwalk during his debut Spring/Summer 2026 Ready-to-Wear show for Chanel in October 2025.) ‘If I had to die wearing just one brand, it would be Chanel,’ says Leila Kashanipour, a jewellery designer and self-professed ‘magpie’ and brand consultant, when I speak to her, ‘because of everything it represents’. Later in the conversation, she comments on Matthieu’s Métiers d’art December show, which was staged in an abandoned New York subway station: It was epic — you can really see yourself wearing it [everyday], rather than reserving it for an occasion.’

In 1929, Coco introduced shoulder strap bags, to free women’s hands from holding clutches — an idea that seems so glaringly obvious to 2026’s multi-faceted and very busy women everywhere, but, on reflection, must’ve felt wonderfully radical at the time. Fast-forward a quarter century and the French couturier was preparing to unveil the 2.55, an updated version of her first shoulder-strap bag, which quickly earned its place in the pantheon of design-defining handbags (other greats include, in my eyes at least, the Hermès Birkin, the Fendi Baguette and the Gucci Jackie).

The 2.55 concealed a myriad secrets (despite its size, there are seven pockets, including an eternal one intended solely for love letters) and was inspired by an eclectic range of influences, including the Mona Lisa, boat anchors and… the quilted fabric of Coco’s horsey boyfriend’s puffy jackets and their horses’ saddle blankets. It was to this criss-cross motif, or matelassé, to give it its proper name, that the French maison turned towards when it came to designing the first Coco Crush collection in 2015. Initially made up of 18-carat yellow, white and beige gold wide and thin rings and cuff bracelets with engraved incisions, Coco Crush has since embraced earrings, necklaces and ear cuffs — occasionally dusted in diamonds. The beige gold, which I’m told took the House of Chanel three years to develop (quite how they did it is a sworn secret), is a homage to Gabrielle’s unabashed love for the colour (her bedroom was painted beige), which reportedly reminded her of the wet sand on Deauville Beach.

The most recent standout piece is the ‘Supple’ necklace — a thrilling feat of jewellery engineering, as seen around Lily Allen’s throat at the aforementioned party. The ergonomic design means that the jewellery looks like a solid choker, but is in fact flexible and able to mould itself effortlessly to the wearer’s neck. A sliding clasp allows the wearer to change the length at will depending on mood and outfit.

‘I love the Coco Crush [jewellery] particularly because it’s quiet luxury,’ says Leila who has an asymmetric earring cuff that works on both pierced and unpierced ears and can be worn on the earlobe or the top of the ear. She was introduced to the world of Chanel by her mother and grandmother, and the very first piece she purchased for herself was a classic, quilted leather bag with gold hardware from Selfridges, using money saved up from a weekend shopkeeping job. ‘You can wear it [Coco Crush] from day to night. It’s not loud — unlike a lot of fashion jewellery that have a defined logo.’

I rarely bet on the horses, but I’d happily put money on Gabrielle Chanel approving of Chanel’s continued appeal to the modern woman and the jewellery’s purposeful design. Jewellery that might not even exist were it not for a certain Parisian polo player and his beloved steeds.

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When you think of heart-shaped jewellery, what comes to mind? Is it the Heart of the Ocean, the fictional 56-carat blue diamond necklace that dangles elegantly from Kate Winslet’s neck in Titanic and inspired by the real-life Hope Diamond, or the 23 pear-shaped rubies surrounded by heart-shaped diamonds in 18-karat white gold worn by Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman? Perhaps it is the immense Taj Mahal diamond set in a Cartier necklace that Richard Burton presented Elizabeth Taylor with in 1972 (its most recent outing was around the neck of Margot Robbie on the Wuthering Heights press tour).

However, heart-shaped jewellery has been around a lot longer than Hollywood. In fact, the earliest known examples date to the late medieval period — in the form of rings and brooches, typically inscribed with short love poems. In the 16th century, the wealthy gifted heart-shaped tokens encrusted with precious gems as displays of affection or commitment. In 2019, a gold pendant featuring a Tudor rose entwined with a pomegranate and the initials of Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon was unearthed in a field in Warwickshire. It read tousiors, old French for ‘always’, and is a poignant symbol of their union (even if it did outlast the marriage).

In the 17th century, the imaginative symbolism of heart-shaped jewellery reached new heights, particularly in Scotland where the Luckenbooth, a twisted brooch also known as a ‘witches heart’, was carried as an amulet against evil spirits. They were also sported by new mothers to ensure a good flow of breast milk or pinned to babies’ clothing in order to protect them from harm. In the 18th century, the symbolism of these brooches evolved to mean that the wearer had been ‘bewitched by love’. They were often set with garnets. This era is the inspiration behind jewellery designer Cece Fein-Hughes’s Love’s Pendulum — a hand-enamelled pendant rich with symbols of luck and love. An engraved horseshoe — the traditional symbol of good fortune — frames the miniature painting. Chamomile, primrose, elderberries and rosemary, the ingredients for love potions, flank two skeletons locked in an embrace, because love never dies.

Heart-shaped jewellery was at its zenith in the 19th century, led by Queen Victoria who wore a bracelet of heart-shaped charms. Each heart represented one of her children and contained a lock of their hair. If that wasn’t enough, the monarch also wore a pendant that concealed some of Prince Albert’s hair (cut when he was a child). ‘In the Victorian era, jewellery wasn’t just decorative, but deeply personal,’ says Ilias Kapsalis, the general manager of Bentley & Skinner, who explains that the pieces were often worn on the chest so as to be ‘quite literally close to the heart.’ A lesser-known story is that Queen Victoria was presented with a gold bracelet set with an amethyst, carved into the shape of a double heart, by her mother, the Duchess of Kent, on November 23, 1839 — the day her engagement to Prince Albert was announced to the Privy Council.

The heart isn’t just for lovers and can represent familial love and friendship. Mary Queen of Scots is said to have sent Elizabeth I a heart-shaped diamond ring as a gesture of friendliness and goodwill. They can also be a symbol of self-love — a commitment to who you are or your own passionate nature. ‘Hearts never lose their relevance because they are timeless and can be interpreted in so many different ways’ says jewellery designer Kiki McDonough. ‘They appeal to lots of people, across generations and styles.’

Kiki’s first-ever design was of a pair of rock crystal heart earrings with a gold bow, now a part of the Victoria & Albert Museum’s collection. ‘I have always loved hearts because of their soft feminine shape,’ she says. ‘People are drawn to jewellery with meaning and story’, says Ilias, and heart motifs ‘remain enduringly popular because they combine romance, history and craftsmanship in one very intimate object’.

Put your money where your heart is

In Josh Safdie’s 2019 neo-noir thriller, Uncut Gems, Adam Sandler plays a jeweller in New York’s Diamond District named Howard Ratner. His declining fortunes seem to turn suddenly after he receives an Ethiopian black opal matrix from an associate. The stone doesn’t look much — Esquire once called it ‘a tarry, shimmering button’ — yet, as he gazes into it, eyes wide and grin wider still, he realises, as do we, that this is an object of truly sensational value.

Black opals, which are more delicate than diamonds, form when water and silicone dioxide evaporate from the cracks of sandstone. The darker the body tone, the more desirable the opal. They are notoriously hard to find, which explains why Howard is reluctant to lend it to basketball champion Kevin Garnett, who conveniently finds himself in the store right as the opal gets delivered.

The sportsman believes it to be his lucky charm, Heaven-sent. After much smooth-talking, Sandler's character hands it over to him on the condition that it’s for one night only. Kevin has a game on and he’s feeling himself; inspired by his blind self-belief, Howard places a bet on his team winning. The gamble pays off. Howard rubs his hands together. He’s made a killing and the opal will be his again tomorrow.

Or so he thinks. Kevin and his entourage, naturally, have other plans, kickstarting a chain of events that ends in chaos and tragedy. Yet the story of how the London Museum (formerly Museum of London) came into the possession of the Cheapside Hoard is stranger and more dramatic, still.

The Hoard is the most significant collection of Tudor and Stuart jewels ever found, a veritable anthology of treasures acquired via different trade routes. Its story, to this day, remains one of London’s most beguiling. A treasure chest containing the jewels was discovered on June 18, 1912, at a time when a growing urban population was transforming the cityscape. Old homes were being razed to clear the way for mansion flats and, in order to build up, developers had to build down, laying more solid foundations deep into the ground.

Workers were expected to excavate several tons of London clay per day, which often meant having to dig right down to Roman level. As each layer of history was diligently removed, new artefacts would reveal themselves to labourers: a portal to an era in which various goods had been buried or left behind. No era fascinated the Edwardians more than the Elizabethan age — so you can imagine the delight of the two workmen who came across the Cheapside Hoard as they dug out the new foundations for Wakefield House that summer.

Wakefield House was built as a headquarters of the industrial tycoon Charles Cheers Wakefield and rose where the Worshipful Company of Goldsmiths once did. This was the professional association of jewellers who had previously occupied the area and whose legacy is still felt today in the name of nearby arteries (think Goldsmith Street). It is here that I meet Victoria Shepherd, a historian and the author of Stony Jack and the Lost Jewels of Cheapside (Oneworld, £20). Ahead of the extant jewels’ much anticipated unveiling at the newly rehomed London Museum later this year, she’s come up with a new theory about when, and why, these might have been buried here.

The ‘Stony Jack’ in her title refers to George Fabian Lawrence, an antiquarian dealer and legendary figure of the age. The labourers who uncovered the Cheapside Hoard could easily have made off with the bounty, Victoria claims; instead, they took it to Stony Jack, who operated out of a pawn shop in Wandsworth. The story is positively Uncut Gems-esque: ‘They dropped concrete footballs, lumps of clay, onto Stony Jack’s desk’, says one account — from whence poured countless jewels made of diamonds, rubies and sapphires. In total, the Cheapside Hoard consisted of nearly 500 pieces, including rings, brooches, necklaces, a salt cellar and a watch encased in a Colombian emerald the size of a small apple.

Over the years, Stony Jack had forged strong relationships with London’s builders, who trusted both his expertise and character when it came to evaluating the worth of their finds. He was known to pay people cash down, no questions asked, and typically sold the valuable works on to museums. His primary options for the Cheapside Hoard were the London Museum and the Guildhall; he favoured the first, in its infancy at the time, having been established in 1911. Soon enough, the museum named Stony Jack its Inspector of Excavations.

The uncovering and eventual traffic of the Hoard in 1912 inspired all sorts of conspiracy theories. Why, indeed, had it been buried in the first place? Why had no one come to retrieve it before then? It has long been believed that the Interregnum was to blame: the political and religious upheaval of the 17th century meant it was perfectly conceivable that a goldsmith might have had to flee town and leave his wealth behind. Victoria’s tale of the Cheapside Hoard, published last June, builds on this theory.

When studying an archival lease document for William Taylor, who took the premises on the site near Goldsmiths Row in 1654, she noticed a passing reference to one Francis Simpson, identified as the property’s previous leaseholder and a jeweller who supplied fashionable pieces to the Court, as well as more modest ones to the mercantile class. He had refused to renew his lease in 1641, on the basis that the structural improvements he’d made to the building as leaseholder were enough to offset the costs. The Goldsmiths’ Company did not accept this explanation and Simpson ended up having to pay rent, on top of fines he had accrued when trying to cut corners.

Then came the Civil War: Simpson, who was a staunch Royalist, fled London for Oxford, where he became Charles I’s royal jeweller. Throughout this time, he refused to pay rent on the shop in Cheapside because that would have meant lining the coffers of a now Republican parliament.

After the Sequestration Committee was set up, the bailiffs came to his premises to requisition the property. His staff of artisans, who had been manning the shop in his absence, promptly hid the jewels ‘somewhere out of the way, at the back of the building, butting up to the boundary with the neighbouring property in a sturdy, brick-lined cellar,’ Victoria writes.

When Oxford surrendered to the Parliamentarians, Simpson was sent to prison. Yet he came back to London after the Restoration had taken place, ready to reclaim his shop and its hidden treasures and wrestle it off whoever occupied the premises at present. Ultimately, however, Simpson was hampered by debt and the Goldsmiths’ Company did not permit him to take out a lease on its watch again.

He returned to his role as royal jeweller and was in town when the Great Fire of 1666 engulfed the City. Cheapside went up in flames and, according to Victoria, Simpson would have believed the Hoard was lost forever. He didn’t realise, however, exactly how well, deeply and safely it had been hidden. No one would, in fact, until 246 years later.

Simpson, believes Victoria, was thus the mystery architect of the Cheapside Hoard, carefully acquiring and remodelling the collection over several decades, according to the fashion of the age. Why he didn’t take the jewels with him to Oxford might raise a few eyebrows, but Ms Shepherd has a theory for this, too. ‘He was, at the time, making diamond-heavy decorations to the highest possible specification for the Royal Court and the pieces and loose stones in the Hoard were, with a few exceptions, not sufficiently grandiose for his work in progress.’

The hero of her book, however, is Stony Jack, of whom she produces one of the most complete portraits to date. He was ‘a clairvoyant’, she argues: someone who could slip seamlessly between the past and the present, peer into a gemstone and understand its provenance in the manner of a mystic (or, indeed, of Kevin Garnett).

We know today that the collection drew from Burma, Colombia and the Persian Gulf, the fruit of budding trade routes to the New World and the Far East. Remarkably, ‘the less ostentatious jewels are some of the most interesting,’ as Victoria notes, ‘because many of them depict myths and symbols loaded with superstition’.

The London Museum was the primary beneficiary of Stony Jack’s antiques trade and holds the single largest slice of the Cheapside Hoard since it was discovered. Some of it was still on display when the museum closed its previous site in 2022, but much of it was on loan or stored underground in the vaults. This year, the full collection will go on show for the first time after the museum reopens on Smithfield, increasing its surface area from roughly 4¼ to 6¾ acres. Victoria, for one, is thrilled: if Edwardian England was in thrall to the tale of the Hoard, it’s one of those London legends to which time has been unkind — until now. Seeing it in all its glory after uncovering the true story, it seems as if this tale might have a far happier ending than that of Uncut Gems.

The London Museum, Smithfield, reopens in late 2026. Visit their website for more information.

This feature originally appeared in the February 4, 2026, issue of Country Life. Click here for more information on how to subscribe

Valentine’s Day is nearly upon us, which means there are a lot of people out there shopping for a ring and figuring out how they’re going to pop the question. If this is you, stop for a moment because the solution — at least to the first thing — might be closer to home than you think. Going bespoke is currently the ultimate indulgence in luxury and, as such, jewellers are increasingly receiving requests for one-off designs made with stones, and even gold, from family heirlooms.

The reasons why this is such a good idea are two-fold.

Firstly, using what already exists is the most environmentally-friendly option. While responsibly-mined gold and diamonds do exist, little is better than taking a stone that’s already come out of the ground and re-using it. Secondly, gemstones and jewels hold sentimental value, reminding us of loved ones and larger family connections. Instead of letting these pieces languish at the bottom of a jewellery box, we should be wearing them (and their familial memories) with pride — albeit in a new incarnation.

Of course, today’s engagement rings are a far cry from what was fashionable 60, 30 or even 10 years ago, so couples are using the opportunity to go bespoke to stamp their own contemporary mark on the designs.

Take, for example, the traditional solitaire diamond ring — a single stone secured with prongs that jewellers such as De Beers and Tiffany & Co have championed for decades. It is (or maybe was) the archetypal engagement ring, the ring of our mothers and grandmothers (which perhaps explains the shift away from it). Eliza Walter, the founder of jewellery brand Lylie, recently made the perfect example of a re-imagined solitaire (remodelling from £3,500). Her client presented her with a three-carat diamond ring set in white-and-yellow gold that had once belonged to her grandmother; Eliza re-set it in a chunky wave of yellow gold and used the diamonds on the band of the original piece in a new wedding ring.

These types of sculptural engagement rings are having a ‘moment’, as brides become braver and challenge the longstanding fashion for delicate bands that are often utilised in order to make the diamond look bigger. Now, the band is as much a part of the design as the stones.

When a client approached Cassandra Goad about re-setting a round, brilliant diamond that he’d inherited from his family she worked closely with him to understand his future wife’s style (remodelling from about £2,500). ‘After many conversations, it became clear that she loved chunky yellow gold rings,’ says Cassandra. ‘I reimagined the piece, incorporating the heirloom diamond into a bold wrap-around yellow gold design, with the stone set in a rub-over setting.’

Multi-stone rings are also on the rise, but they’re different from the traditional three-stone ones of yesteryear. Cigar-band rings (the name given to rings with a band that is wide all the way round) are in vogue and offer ample space for multiple, smaller gemstones.

Cassandra worked on a design with a client who wanted to use her mother’s engagement ring as the starting point. The original ring wasn’t her style, but as her mother had sadly died it held enormous sentimental value. The Sloane Street jeweller set all the stones in a wide band and even used the gold from the original ring in the new iteration.

When a groom came to her with three family diamonds, Annoushka Ducas, the founder of Annoushka, set them in a thick, rose gold band alongside two baguette-cut sapphires (remodelling from £10,000). ‘Reimagining a family stone is a beautiful way to carry forward the story of a treasured piece. It honours the past while creating a meaningful heirloom for the future,’ she says. Kind and careful consideration is given to the heirloom gemstones’ shape, clarity and unique characteristics, she goes on to explain. ‘We ensure the new setting celebrates its natural perfections (or wonderful imperfections), while reflecting the style and story of its new owner. It’s a meeting of past and future in one design.’

Serena Ansell recently finished work on a five stone, classic-style ring for a couple who presented her with diamonds from both sides of their respective families (remodelling from about £5,000). ‘I knew the bride-to-be wasn’t shy of chunky jewellery and loved classical pieces. And as I love art history I relished designing this ring that takes inspiration from Ancient Greek and Roman artistry.’

One of the dismantled rings belonged to the client’s grandmother. ‘She was married for over 60 years so to include the diamonds in my ring feels very special,’ said the client to Serena, via email.

Considered design and unique touches are a calling-card of jeweller Hattie Rickards (remodelling from £5,000). Her design process can involve weeks of back and forth in order to better understand her client’s lifestyle and taste. A couple — Bianca and Johnnie — brought Hattie an heirloom, old-cut diamond from Bianca’s mother. ‘Bianca is a homebody often found in jeans and a t-shirt at home in Dalston or barefoot on the beach in Portugal,’ says Hattie. ‘They loved my signature design, but we refined it to create a ring that perfectly suited the shape and scale of Bianca’s hands, and to create a silhouette that would suit her style.’

‘Even though it is undeniably “me”, the fact that Johnnie and I went to Hattie together means that when I look at it I see something that is “ours”, and also I see my mum, thanks to her beautiful stone. For me, that's what truly makes it a modern heirloom,’ says Bianca.

Working on another commission, Hattie set a loose, family diamond in a bold, square setting, which lent the round, brilliant cut stone ‘a distinct and confident modernity’. She added baguette-cut diamonds and an unusual stripe of channel-set, custom-cut green sapphires and even hid the groom’s birthstone on the inside of the shank.

While gemstones are the obvious (and easy) precious material to ‘recycle’, some independent jewellers are also able to re-use gold. Lylie is one of them. ‘We understand the sentimental value of the original gold itself, so we offer a re-casting service using heirloom metal,’ says Eliza. The jeweller also runs a ‘Gold Exchange’ scheme whereby heirloom gold can be offset against part of the remodelling costs and responsibly recycled — perfect if, for example, the original ring is yellow gold and the client wants to use white or platinum in its place. It’s another sustainable way of keeping already-mined material in circulation while reducing the cost of the new commission. From pre-loved to loved once more, re-using gemstones and gold pays in so many ways, turning ‘something old’ into ‘something new’ again.

For Cece Fein-Hughes, what began in a bedroom in her parent’s house ended up on the fingers of Margot Robbie, Jacob Elordi and Taylor Swift. ‘We've never experienced anything like it,’ she recalls, of the bespoke order that came in last year for the pop superstar. Swift was introduced to Cece’s jewellery by the supermodel Gigi Hadid, who gifted the singer, and Kendall Jenner, bespoke pieces of jewellery. Swift’s tabby cat, Benjamin Button, was the centerpiece of a signet ring, surrounded by pearls, two brilliant cut diamonds, a flaming heart and a spear-pierced one with the number 87 inside — a reference to her fiance Travis Kelce's jersey number for the Kansas City Chiefs. For Robbie and Elordi, Cece Jewellery was chosen to commemorate the time they spent together filming Emerald Fennell’s new raunchy adaptation of Wuthering Heights. Robbie had matching signet rings made that feature a pair of skeletons embracing, with the words 'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same’ from the Emily Brontë novel. 'It was such a special request to create these matching rings [...] The skeletons are positioned exactly as they appear on the iconic film poster, entwined with roses and thorns, representing passion, beauty, and heartbreak,' Cece says.

The key to Cece Jewellery’s success may be that the business is a close-knit family affair. ‘My parents run their own construction company, and it’s really helpful to have guidance. My mum’s a designer, so she designs with me, and my dad leads the charge on the business,’ Cece says. In fact, case in point, as I am interviewing Cece in her west London office — ‘I’m a serious west Londoner. I can’t leave,’ she says — her mum pops in, as if on cue. She does this, Cece says, pretty much once a day.

Bubbly, warm and full of passion for her designs, time spent with Cece passes quickly, and with much laughter involved. Growing up, she didn’t imagine that she’d be a designer, but she was very much ‘a jewellery kid’. ‘I was like a little magpie. I'd get anything that was sparkling,’ she says. Her father was a deep sea diver — ‘he has all these old school tattoos, which is very much a theme that runs my designs’ — while her mother stayed at home. Cece has around eight small tattoos herself (she can’t remember exactly how many), of which one is a snake. Despite a genuine fear of the reptile, she is ‘obsessed with them’ and they feature a lot in her jewellery, though she’d ‘never be in a room with’ one. This kind of contradiction features a lot in her work — her seemingly girlish pieces tend to have a rather Gothic twist. For as many floral Cece Jewellery designs there are, they are an equally prevalent number that feature something more macabre. Many of her heart designs are bleeding, or pierced by an arrow. Plenty feature skeletons, perhaps reflecting Cece's own tattoo of a skull and crossbones: ‘It’s a good reminder that we’re all going to die,’ she says, with a light-hearted giggle.

She describes her upbringing as ‘hippie and wild’. ‘There were no rules. I actually asked my parents to have rules. I was like: ‘Dad, can you tell us to take our shoes off?’ Because my school friends did that.’ She grew up in Devon with an older brother and a younger sister. ‘It was all very whimsical and witchy. My mum and my granny went to Full Moon meetings. It was this very earthy upbringing. They were also creative and always encouraged me to draw and paint and walk on the moors and look at spider webs and stuff, so that sort of fueled my passion for creativity.’

Her business, despite ‘moving to London and bringing in a bit of the bling’ aims to capture the whimsy of her upbringing. Originally, she studied History of Art at university then completed internships at Christie’s and Sotheby's, before realising that she hated working at a desk. ‘I was itching to do something with my hands, so I did a short jewellery making course in Hatton Garden, completely randomly, and I discovered gold — and how magical it was.’

‘I didn't ever think I'd have a business,’ Cece says, candidly. ‘I didn't think I'd ever have a job. I was happy just to make a few little rings here and there. My deep passion is in design. When I design for a new collection, that's when I'm happiest.’

It is the enamel on her rings that makes them unique. Cece had studied the jewellery craft for a while before she came across enamel. ‘It was sort of — and I hate this term — a “eureka” moment, because it pulls in my love of history of art, which is paintings, but also my love of storytelling, and this kind of fairytale element you can wear.’

She has a particular love of the signet ring: ‘It’s brilliant because it's so British. It definitely has connotations of Eton, but I kind of love flipping that on its head a bit — wearing it on a different finger, stacking it up, painting crazy things on the signet ring. We've done paintings that are so un-proper, for lack of a better word.’ She describes her designs as ‘playful, fun and silly,’ complete with images that ‘makes you look twice’. Cece recently painted a bespoke ring where the customer had dreamt that they were a lion and had defeated an alligator in a battle to the death. ‘They said they needed it painted on a ring because it means something,’ she recalls.

‘Was this customer a man?’ I ask.

‘Yes,’ Cece says.

All this discussion of rings leads me to my most burning question for the married jewellery designer — the answer to which has, up until this point, been obscured by an inconsiderately clutched cup of tea. What kind of wedding ring does a ring designer wear? The answer is: more than one. She has three separate pieces on her ring finger. Dan, her husband, gifted her the first — her engagement ring — she made herself the second (‘because I really wanted more diamonds’) and the third is a simple wedding band. ‘I wanted something quite simple for us to exchange on the day, because I think there's something symbolic to that.’ Her husband wasn’t stressed when it came to choosing her engagement ring because he had been thoroughly briefed by Cece in the 10 years prior, she says. He also wanted to choose entirely by himself. She met him in the universal place where many great romances begin: on a dance floor while on a university night out.

The pair are a power duo: Dan also runs his own business in tech. ‘It's a really confusing world, and it's the complete opposite world that I work in,’ Cece says. He is not a natural jewellery wearer, but the designer won him around with a bespoke signet ring, featuring an illustration of a crane on one leg to symbolise balance. She was, he says, her ‘most difficult customer’. They share a ‘bossy and princess-y’ tabby cat called Lucky.

While there is plenty of joy at Cece Jewellery HQ, the increase in the price of gold recently has hit her business hard. ‘It’s really stressful. My finance team is not having a good time,’ she says. ‘We are going to increase our prices soon. We have to. It's crazy how much gold has gone up even in the last couple of months. It's really, really upsetting because it just suddenly cuts out a whole market of people for fine jewellery, but there's also nothing we can do because we are selling rings — we have to make a profit.’ So, would she ever switch to a different material? She bristles as that thought.

‘No. I can’t. I have to have the best of the best, because it would be doing enamel a disservice to use any lower carat gold or synthetic diamonds. It's such an ancient, beautiful craft that takes so many years of learning how to do it, and so few people in the world know how to do it. It's like treasured art, so we need to make sure it's on the best canvas.’

Your aesthetic hero

There’s this one scene in Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet, and it’s where Claire Danes [Juliet] is looking through the fish tank, and the song ‘I’m Kissing You’ [by Des'ree] is playing. That’s my aesthetic hero. I think there's something so innocent and ethereal and magical about that scene and what she's wearing, but there's also an undertone of tragedy, which I love. I've been playing that scene over and over again for the last couple of months. I used that scene as my inspiration for our next collection.

A book you found inspiring

I wanted to say something really smart, but I’m actually going to say the truth. I was addicted to Romantasy for a whole year. I have almost a graveyard of Romantasy books in my house, and it’s got to be Fourth Wing [by Rebecca Yarros]. It’s not educational, but it is such delicious escapism, and I’m all about escapism and storytelling. I actually couldn’t talk to my husband for a whole weekend [because I was reading it].

The music you work to

I listen to really depressing music. I have to feel heartbroken and sad. And at the moment, it's classical, but kind of sad-classical. It ebbs and flows, I just have to transport myself back to Devon, and that's the way I do it. You have to light the candles, you need a nice, peaceful space.

An exhibition that has really impressed you

So I've obviously been to the Marie Antoinette one that's been huge, and the Cartier one [both recently at the V&A Museum], and I can’t decide between the two… I'd probably have to say Cartier, just because seeing the journey of Cartier from start to finish, and ending with the tiaras — it was just the most incredible old glamour, and it felt so inspiring.

What you’d take to a desert island

Obviously my husband and my cat, but mainly my mum, because I’m such a baby, and I think I’m getting more of a baby as I get older, really. I need my mum. I think I call her about five times a day and I see her every day, as long as she comes into the office (she lives around the corner). But yeah, I need my mum, always.

The last podcast you listened to

I’m actually not a podcast girl so, none. I don’t really commute so I don’t really have time to listen to podcasts — it’s a 10-minute walk.

The thing that gets you up in the morning

Lucky, my cat, and just a coffee in bed, I can’t do anything else until I’ve had that. I have black coffee, but the cup has to be three quarters full, and I take it with sugar.

The items you collect

I do have a collection of crystals, which is definitely a nod to my granny. I have one my brother gave me for something to do with health, because once I was really ill, and I feel like that's the sweetest thing ever, because he's a big rock-and-roll dude with a bald head and loads of tattoos. It was so sweet. I've also got one that me and Dan got in Sri Lanka. I've got crystals from all over the world. It’s a meaningful little shrine of crystals.

The last thing of note that you bought for yourself

I am making a plate wall at my house at the moment. I’ve bought these Astier De Villatte plates, which are extremely expensive and which you would never use as they’re so smashable — but they have paintings on them. One has a crow, another has a rose. It’s quite eccentric and it’s for my new kitchen. I’m really excited to put it all up, I just don’t know how.

A hotel you could go back and back to

Grand Hotel Son Net in Mallorca. We went last year and it’s one of those hotels where you don’t leave until you go to your returning flight, and because we both run our own businesses, sometimes we need a holiday where you literally don't do anything. It was actually heaven.

Your favourite painting

I feel like with this one, I thought about it, and it has to be this. I’m not trying to bring in all my jewellery collections, but it's just what I think about. It's The Garden of Earthly Delights by Hieronymus Bosch, because our last collection was inspired by that painting. Obviously it's a big triptych, and we created triptych pendants. I just love paintings where the closer you look, the more you discover. The allegory of, like: ‘Oh, that looks beautiful,’ and then you look closer, and it's like a skull or something dying.

The most memorable meal you've eaten

Le Vin Perdu, in Ashburton, Devon. We went over Christmas, and we were all amazed at how delicious it was. It's such a cute little glittery, candle-lit restaurant. We actually did our wedding drinks the night before there, and it was a set menu, and literally, every single plate was left empty. And it was great and we were all really happy. It was delicious Italian.

Who would play you in a film of your life

This is really hard. I actually can’t answer — you guys can. [The rest of us in the room agree she looks quite a lot like Dua Lipa, who has acted twice, a.) not very well, in the comedy film Argylle which is about a spy and a cat, and b.) slightly better in the film Barbie.]

The best present you’ve ever received

It’s a really obvious one, but when Dan proposed I literally screamed. I was so happy. It was a shocking surprise because I thought maybe it wasn’t going to happen. It was very much that time when everyone's maybe getting engaged, maybe not, and everyone’s a bit panicky and stressed.

A possession you'd never sell

A pendant that I made for my aunties, uncles and me. It's where we scattered my granny's ashes in Devon, we have this very special tor on Dartmoor — it's basically a hill with a pile of rocks on top — and it was almost like our family's pilgrimage. We'd go up it multiple times a year, and that's where we scattered her ashes and then laid down little pink blossoms. So I painted in enamel the little rock, a little pink blossom, and then it's got her initials on the back, which is very sweet. Because we don't have a tombstone, it's very untraditional. We didn't even have a funeral. So it's nice to have something that we have from that moment.

Find out more about Cece Jewellery on their website.

Jewellery designers are always on the look out for inspiration to inform their designs. A horse bit perhaps, or a rare hothouse flower? Or, maybe, a fan-shaped sea shell from far-away shores. Last year, Jessica McCormack was drawn to mythical sea creatures, including Scotland’s folklore sea spirits; Brazilian jewellery designer Fernando Jorge thought about late discothèque nights while he was designing his Vertex collection of baguette diamond-set pieces. The thing that unites them? Colourful gems that span the rainbow, from rubies and fancy pink diamonds, to opals (a favourite of Victoire de Castellane of Dior Joaillerie and Horlogerie).

Dries Ciel on chrome tourmaline

Based in Antwerp, independent designer Dries Ciel is preparing for his first showing at specialist fair TEFAF in Maastricht 2026. Dries — a former dancer — designs pieces that are geometric and angular, yet still molded to the human form. Each material he casts or sets is traceable.

‘My favourite gemstone to work with today is chrome tourmaline,’ he says. The gem is the focal point of his yellow gold Sphinx ring. Further details are provided courtesy of white diamonds and green enamel. ‘Chrome tourmaline is an exceptionally rare variety of tourmaline, prized for its vivid emerald-like green colour caused by chromium and vanadium,’ he explains. ‘It is found almost exclusively in small, depleted deposits in Tanzania, making supply extremely limited.’ His ring features a sizable six-carat specimen. ‘Gem-quality stones, especially those above two carats, are scarce due to size, inclusions and cutting challenges. Its natural, typically untreated state and irregular availability make chrome tourmaline a true collector’s gemstone.’

Honor Wainwright of Boodles on pink diamonds

‘Pink diamonds are incredibly beautiful… and extraordinarily rare,’ says Honour. ‘Fewer than 0.01% of all diamonds are pink, and what I find so special about them is that no one really knows why they are pink — they are quite literally a gift from Nature.’

The Petal ring, set with a 2.25-carat fancy pink, cushion-cut diamond was made, last year, by Boodles, the jeweller that Honour’s family has helmed for more than six generations.

‘I also think it’s amazing that they were formed more than 1.6 billion years ago, which is why natural diamonds feel so special. Boodles is known globally for being the home of pink diamonds and they have become synonymous with who we are, reflecting not only our brand colour but also what we aspire to be: fun, unique and exceptional.’

Boodles chose to set the Petal ring’s pink diamond in platinum and single mine origin rose gold. ‘The main stone [there are additional diamonds] is encircled by exceptionally rare, brilliant-cut pink diamonds from the now-closed Argyle Mine in Australia,’ says Honour.

Jeremy Morris of David Morris on paraiba tourmaline

‘This 9.58-carat pear cut paraiba-set ring is my favourite colourful piece,’ says Jeremy Morris, the CEO and creative director of British brand David Morris.

‘It’s bold, but very easy to wear — light and comfortable. Stones this size usually have deep bellies and can be quite chunky, but this one sits beautifully on the finger, with lovely proportions.’

The paraiba ring is testament to the expertise of the David Morris artisans who deliberately exposed the back of the centre namesake stone so as not to cloud its colour and clarity. ‘[It has a] hue that instantly reminds me of the bottom of a swimming pool in Mykonos… It’s a ring that’s as much about technical brilliance as it is about sheer beauty,’ says Jeremy.

Jean Ghika of Bonhams on a Colombian emerald

‘A beautiful and rare step-cut emerald weighing 10.37 carats of Colombian origin, with no indications of clarity enhancement,’ says Jean Ghika, the global jewellery director of auction house Bonhams, recalling her favourite colourful gem to sell at auction in 2025. ‘Emeralds displaying no clarity enhancement are exceptionally rare, and examples exceeding 10 carats place such stones in an entirely different category. The remarkable colour of this emerald, combined with its untreated state and impressive size, elevated it to one of the most sought-after gems for collectors and connoisseurs alike.’

Annoushka Ducas on andalusite

‘Andalusite is a gemstone I find endlessly fascinating,’ says Annoushka Ducas. ‘Its warm amber hues and natural greens shift beautifully in the light, revealing a subtle, ever-changing interplay of colour. No two stones are ever the same.’

For her Flight collection of fine jewellery, Annoushka used andalusites sourced from her personal hoard of gems. ‘They are deeply personal pieces, created using gemstones from my own collection, and designed to celebrate individuality and craftsmanship.’

Sandra Cronan on yellow diamonds

Sandra Cronan is a specialist in antique and vintage jewellery. Her standout piece of 2025 was an Art Deco brooch featuring a central marquise-cut yellow diamond surrounded by baguette diamonds, a further 10 marquise-cut yellow diamonds and more brilliant-cut diamonds — to trap and reflect light.

The brooch, cast from platinum, was finished in the USA around 1925. It’s exceptional pieces such as these that Sandra displays in her treasure chest cabinets at London’s Dover Street Market. ‘It stands out because yellow diamonds are so rare, and the fancy yellow-orange colour of these particular ones is very vivid! To find 10 similar yellow diamonds must have been very hard.'

‘Elizabeth is almost a series of fleeting images,’ says Kate Hawley. ‘She’s ephemeral, dreamlike.’ Kate is an Emmy-nominated costume designer who has dressed characters of stage (Royal New Zealand Ballet, the New Zealand Opera, among others) and screen, and she’s describing her recent collaboration with director Guillermo del Toro. Their work, Frankenstein, has been one of Netflix’s standout successes this year. And Elizabeth, the elusive character Kate is setting out, is Lady Elizabeth Harlander, as played by British actor Mia Goth.

‘She sees the beauty of Nature and its imperfections,’ Kate explains of Elizabeth, the fiancée of William Frankenstein who catches the eye of his brother, Baron Victor Frankenstein. The movie is told through two narratives: Victor’s and Jacob Elordi’s Creature. Kate’s costuming plays a key role in both. ‘In Victor’s story, we see her reflected through his eyes, a madonna, an angel, and a mother. In the Creature’s story, we see her reflected through the Creature’s eyes. We see this most clearly in the wedding scene. Guillermo wanted it to be the Creature’s wedding, and for Elizabeth to look like his bride. The wedding dress mirrors the Creature’s bandages and the skeletal architecture of the rib cage. It’s constructed in layers like an anatomy wax model.’

Fine jewellery — specifically precious Tiffany & Co. creations — played a key role in Kate’s designs for Frankenstein. It is only the fourth film that the jewellery house worked with. The others are similarly sweeping epics: The Great Gatsby (2013), Death on the Nile (2022) and Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961). ‘We don't normally do this,’ says Christopher Young, vice president and creative director of the American maison’s patrimony department. Kate and Christopher were introduced by Steven Newman, head of the Netflix Photo Studio. ‘Our involvement with Frankenstein made sense for many reasons, but the core purpose was due to the high elevation of Kate's designs,’ Christopher says. ‘Once I realised Kate’s enormous vision, I gave her full access to our archives. We never offer that.’

Once through the doors of the archive department, Kate honed in on creations by Louis Comfort Tiffany (1848-1933) — a polymath man who had, before designing jewellery, furnished interiors, manufactured vibrant lamps and blown glass. He was the son of the company’s founder, Charles Tiffany, and he presented his first collection of jewellery in 1904. Comfort Tiffany was also a collaborator: he worked with the family company’s enamel artist, Julia Munson, in order to bring his fantastical vision into three-dimensional being and scouted one of his chief designers, Meta Overbeck, straight from art school. They worked, together, out of a studio in New Jersey — a space filled with inspirational materials, plants and natural objects that soon gave shape, colour and detail to rare gems.

Among them, and now on view in Frankenstein: a tourmaline ring, designed by Overbeck. The lustrous green gem — liquid to the eye — set in gold, was cast to resemble a wild vine. ‘It looks like she has a giant beetle on her hand,’ says Kate. ‘Frankenstein is a world where beauty and the grotesque sit together.’

Elsewhere in the film, there is a necklace strung from red lava stone beads that dates to 1870. Hanging from it now is a crucifix pendant, a new creation, made to sketches by Overbeck and a Tiffany & Co. cross from another era, and the 1900 Wade Family necklace, a collier in diamond, gold and platinum that has a ‘a lace quality’. ‘The workmanship is just extraordinary,’ says Kate. ‘I underestimated the transformative effect something like the Wade necklace has on the set and the wearer. When we put it on Mia, and it fit perfectly, it was really a Cinderella moment.’

It was important that these museum-quality pieces worked with the truly ravishing costumes. ‘Thematically, organically and within the colour palette they all supported the storytelling and echoed so perfectly the language of the world that Guillermo was creating,’ says Kate. ‘Having Tiffany & Co. as a collaborator was an honor that was deeply moving for my entire crew. It was a recognition of our craft and added a new artistic dimension. Tiffany’s jewellery became its own creative contribution, similar to hair design, makeup, wardrobe, sets and props, and was integral to completing the design space. It was not just an accessory but an essential element specifically to Elizabeth’s character, enhancing the colour palette and overall interpretation of her world.’

‘Frankenstein’ is now available to watch on Netflix

The recent Louvre theft aside, what's astonishing is that many of the world's royal jewels have survived the vagaries of history. At an exhibition at Paris's Hôtel de la Marine, more than 140 of the best are on display.

Three years in the making, ‘Dynastic Jewels’ is the third and final collaboration between the Al Thani Collection and the Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A), and looks at the power, prestige and passion of dynastic jewels. It combines stunning pieces from their two collections with others from public and private collections, and archives from high jewellery houses. ‘It's a once-in-a-generation chance to see so many of these incredibly important pieces of historical jewellery displayed together,’ says exhibition curator Emma Edwards.

The location of the show is noteworthy, as it was once the royal furniture repository, where Louis XVI exhibited the crown jewels to the public one day a month. This was also the site of another famous robbery, in 1792, during the chaos of the French Revolution — though most of those jewels were recovered.

The exhibition opens with celebrated stones from history, including the 57.31-carat Star of Golconda, from India's legendary diamond mines. While south Asia was rich in diamonds, rubies, sapphires and emeralds, and attributed divine or talismanic properties to them, pre-Renaissance Europeans had limited access to gemstones, particularly diamonds. That changed in 1498, when the Portuguese explorer Vasco da Gama opened a maritime route to India.

Trade in precious stones grew quickly after that, transforming European court fashion, where the custom was to sew them directly onto clothing. Louis XIV thus covered himself from head to toe with Indian diamonds, reinforcing his position as the divinely appointed Sun King.

In Russia, Catherine the Great used jewellery to help secure her authority following the coup d'état that gave her the throne. She immediately commissioned an imperial crown studded with diamonds, and created a room in the Winter Palace to display the royal collection. ‘She really knew how to manipulate the use of diamonds and jewellery so that she shone,’ says Emma. ‘We have some dress ornaments that were used to cover her splendid court attire so that she blazed around her courtiers and everyone knew who she was.’

Napoleon Bonaparte also used jewellery to legitimise his authority as emperor. One of the stars of this show is the sword from his coronation. ‘The sword was designed to house the Regent diamond [now replaced], a statement of the continuity that he wanted to instill in his reign — that he was the successor to the royal kings of France,’ says Emma. His coronation crown was a copy of Charlemagne's, while Josephine wore a diamond tiara that referenced the laurel wreaths of the Roman Empire.

Ancient Rome influenced women's clothing styles under the Bonapartes, as fabrics grew lighter and more delicate, representing innocence and purity. As a result, jewels moved to the body, such as the pearl necklace on display that Josephine is believed to have handed down to her stepdaughter, Princess Augusta Amélie de Bavière.

Pearls were extremely valuable, and could be more expensive than diamonds, until the invention of cultured pearls in the early 1900s. Empress Eugénie, consort to Napoléon III, owned a remarkable pearl-and-diamond tiara that was meant to be in this show, but disappeared in the Louvre theft. But Eugénie had plenty more in her jewellery box, and Mellerio, France's oldest jewellery house, has loaned the exhibition the magnificent peacock feather brooch that it made for her in 1868 with diamonds, emeralds, rubies and sapphires.

Another highlight is the simple sapphire and diamond coronet that Prince Albert designed for Queen Victoria in 1840, their wedding year. She wore it in her first official portrait, and copies of the painting were given as gifts around the Empire. The beloved piece is shown next to her emerald-and-diamond tiara, also designed by her regent and realised by Joseph Kitching. As both were passed down to other family members, Emma says, ‘you can speculate that they might have been worn together at fabulous house parties, but they haven't been seen together for a very long time’.

From the late 1800s to the early 20th century, tiaras were the de rigueur headpiece for high society and royal events, and a room at the Hôtel de la Marine is devoted to 11 of them. One, a large, crown-like confection with a matching stomacher was crafted by Garrard for the Duchess of Portland. ‘She was this very tall, elegant Edwardian lady,’ Emma says. ‘The stomacher was made out of jewels that the family owned, and the tiara was made to go with it. The two of them together, within a ballroom setting, would have really made a statement about who you were and your social standing.’

There are the remnants of a tiara given by the future George IV to the twice-widowed (and Catholic!) Maria Fitzherbert, whom he wed in secret. The alliance was invalidated and George agreed to marry Caroline de Brunswick in exchange for his father paying off his colossal debts.

And then there's the Manchester tiara, made by Cartier in 1903 for the Duchess of Manchester, one of the dollar princesses, or nouveau riche who came from the USA to bolster up the dwindling fortunes of the British aristocracy.

Indeed, the centre of power was now moving from Europe to the New World. Monarchies from France to Austria-Hungary to Russia collapsed, and the new regimes wanted to keep jewels out of the hands of any pretenders to the throne. When France's Second Empire fell, Eugénie wrapped up some of her jewels in newspaper and took them to England, where she gradually sold them to support her life in exile. Back in France, the republican government auctioned off 77,000 Crown jewels in 1887, which proved to be a financial disaster. The biggest buyer was the New York jeweller Tiffany & Co.

This was the Gilded Age, and royal jewels were now worn by the new powerbrokers with names like Vanderbilt and Astor and Rockefeller. One exquisite piece in this exhibition is a corsage brooch created by Mellerio dits Meller in 1864 for Princess Mathilde Bonaparte, a cousin of Napoleon III. Emma calls it ‘a study in naturalism’, a fully bloomed rose set with 2,309 diamonds. The princess, known for her beauty, wore it when hosting salons for Paris's literary and artistic elite. After her death in 1904, it was sold to Mrs Cornelius Vanderbilt III, who showed it off at high-society parties in New York.

The 20th century also saw the return of India's influence on jewellery, as maharajahs' fortunes swelled during the British Raj. They brought trunks filled with jewels to Paris, to have them reset in a modern style by jewellers of the Place Vendôme — Mauboussin, Boucheron, Van Cleef & Arpels, Chaumet (whose founder, Marie-Etienne Nitot, had been Napoleon I's jeweller) and especially Cartier.

Jacques Cartier travelled frequently to India, where his biggest clients were not women, but men. He made a necklace with multiple chains of diamonds for the Maharajah of Patiala, and a turban ornament featuring a rare brown tiger eye diamond for Maharajah Ranjitsinhji de Nawanagar. In turn, India's exoticism influenced Western taste, as the heiress Daisy Fellowes commissioned Cartier to make a ‘Hindu Necklace’ in its colourful Tutti Frutti style.

In 1933, a woman, Jeanne Toussaint, became director of high jewellery at Cartier. Her nickname was La Panthère, and she leaned into the house's panther motif, creating sculptural versions for Wallis Simpson, such as a diamond and sapphire panther seated proudly on a large sapphire cabochon. The Duchess of Windsor wore the brooch on her shoulder — a power statement if there ever was one.

Dynastic Jewels is open until April 6, 2026, at the Hôtel de la Marine. Click here for more information.

Synthetic diamonds look indistinguishable — even to a trained eye — and cost substantially less than a mined diamond, and have been in existence for longer than you might imagine. The first laboratory-made ones were produced in the 1950s, but improvements in manufacturing efficiency have meant that their arrival on the market as a viable alternative still feels like a very recent development.

If you have come across them at all, it is probably in the forms of an engagement ring, where prices can undercut a traditional, mined diamond by a factor of up to 90%, depending on the carat and clarity (the general rule is: the bigger the stone, the bigger the potential saving). It is, unsurprisingly, emotive territory. Whether you are giving or receiving, the declaration of love and commitment indicated by an engagement ring isn’t one you want tinged with questions over value for money. However, the appeal of a synthetic stone has always been that you get a lot more diamond for your money — and we all know how alluring that can be.

In recent times, the price of synthetic diamonds has tumbled, and traditional industry players who did at least dip a toe in the water when things first took off — such as De Beers — have since exited the lab-grown world. And the gaping chasm between synthetic and mined could not be any wider. More and more, legacy producers and prestigious dealers are declaring that they will only use ‘real’ stones (though in every measurable sense, a synthetic diamond is chemically identical to a mined one).

When it comes to the customer, things are a little less clear. An independent American survey, carried out in May 2025, found that 74% of people were amenable to the idea of a lab-grown diamond engagement ring, a figure that rises to 83% for non-bridal jewellery.

There are, to my knowledge, no comparable statistics for watch customers. Switzerland’s big horology players have been much slower than their jewellery counterparts to embrace (and then reject) lab-grown diamonds and, in 2021, Swiss journalist and TV presenter Marc-Andre Deschoux told the New York Times about the ‘lingering taboo’ surrounding using them.

It took until 2022 for TAG Heuer to premiere a Carrera concept watch encrusted with lab-grown stones — and it made headlines and turned heads. Thankfully, successive pieces have helped to normalise things and, as a result, the brand has been able to commission stones in shapes and sizes that would have been near-impossible to find on the natural market. Think: a watch’s crown formed entirely out of pink diamond.

Other brands have turned to lab-grown stones for more conventional purposes, including Oris and Raymond Weil, who have used them in their Aquis Date and Freelancer lines respectively. You might think the move a purely commercial one, given that, as a result, each brand can bring a steel watch with diamond bezel to market for around £3,000, but it’s comparable with similar mined diamond-set watches from brands such as Longines, Tudor and Frederique Constant.

For some brands, the prize is a long-term strategy to attract and hold younger consumers’ attention. Breitling, for example, has committed to only using lab-grown diamonds moving forward, citing sustainability and transparency concerns — particularly with regard to incoming European legislation that will enforce stricter reporting on supply chains. Others point to a confluence of factors that in combination, make the decision a no-brainer. Andrea Furlan, the co-founder of indie brand (independent companies that are not affiliated with major corporations) Furlan Marri, says that his company chose to use lab-grown diamonds on the recently-released Disco Volante model for both financial and logistical reasons.

‘From a financial point of view, it made sense in order to offer a more accessible price. Then, for logistical and customs reasons, it is easier to handle; real diamonds require specific customs documentation. It also makes sense to use laboratory-grown diamonds because we can be sure about the quality, the sourcing, and the consistency in size for larger production runs. And after all, they are made of real carbon, just like natural ones.’

And then there are those looking to shore up the value proposition of lab-grown stones. Swiss supplier Ammil is trying to restore some prestige to lab-grown stones by attempting to certify them as ‘Swiss Made’ — the same badge of quality that adorns many of the watches that will eventually wear the jewels. Ammil currently grows the stone in a facility in central Switzerland, powered by sustainable energy, before shipping them off to India to be cut and polished — a crucial stage of manufacturing that it also hopes to one day relocate to the European country.

Others have had the novel idea of associating the stones — whose chief downfall is that their production is inherently unlimited — with artificially-scarce concepts, specifically, crypto-currency. VRAI, a jewellery brand owned by Diamond Foundry, a Californian producer of lab-grown diamonds, has started selling synthetic stones that are priced comparably to natural diamonds; the gap in price is made up in Bitcoin, which the firm links to each diamond with a certificate. Essentially, the diamond ceases to become the item of value, instead functioning as a glittering token for the crypto asset.

Time will tell whether either tactic is successful at imbuing artificial gemstones with the kind of luxury quotient associated with hard-to-find, naturally-occurring diamonds, but, in the meantime, we can expect their use in the watch world to increase.

In the pantheon of stories offering respite from our dark times, the jewellery heist at the Musée du Louvre has to be number one. October’s Napoleonic loot, worth more than €88 million (about £77 million), would have been an outrage were it not for the sheer absurdity of its acquisition: a daylight robbery on a Sunday morning using a German furniture elevator that ushered the criminals to safety faster than the guards could scream sacré bleu.

Museums worldwide are on high alert as auctioneers capitalise on a new-found love of 19th-century regalia. At London’s Prince Charles Cinema, the programme has been peppered with old heist films such as 1995’s Heat. A handful of observers have thought it necessary to discuss the incident in retributory terms: the thieves stole only what had already been stolen, claims went, evincing a popular yet misguided belief that all artefacts in European museums have previously been plundered.

Narrow as this outlook may be, it has opened my eyes to a different kind of appropriation currently occurring in the world of rings. No fewer than 10 friends have become engaged to one another in the past six months; of the five rings used in their proposals, three feature an oval sapphire encased in a diamond halo. All once belonged to their grandmothers, suggesting that the great generational wealth transfer foretold by the financial press has already begun in the form of given heirlooms.

‘The halo-enshrined sapphire has its roots in the Art Deco movement,’ explains jeweller Guillaume Stapylton-Smith, at a time when ringmakers began using platinum to frame a hoop’s principle stone. The style was especially sought after in the 1950s, when people whose grandchildren are now becoming affianced would likely have written vows of their own. As such, it would have been considered a traditional choice by 1981, when Lady Diana Spencer chose one just like it for her engagement to then Prince Charles. The ring is now worn by The Princess of Wales.

According to Forbes, the average salary for Britons aged 30 to 39 stands at £39,988. A natural, one-carat diamond can easily top £10,000. For those looking to take the next step, grandma’s ring offers precious security, just as it ensures continuity with the past. Yet it is also a sign of changing cultural mores. If millennial brides tend to favour more esoteric styles, such as the toi et moi — a ring that pairs two small, differently shaped stones together on one hoop — Gen Z tastes are more obviously classic, redolent of their penchant for younger and more traditional engagements. Forget Graff or Cartier: it’s time for tea with Granny.

I was lucky enough to preview the Scottish Freshwater Pearl Masterpiece Collection from Hamilton & Inches before its launch on November 5 — and it is a beauty.

The exquisite 10-piece collection is special because it’s been made out of two very scarce materials: finite Scottish gold and the last available of the country’s freshwater pearls. In 1998, wild pearl fishing in Scotland was made illegal making the ones collected among the rarest in the world, already long prized for their natural brilliance. (Many say that the region’s riches — including its pearls — led Julius Caesar to invade Britain.)

Hamilton & Inches are the only fine jeweller licensed to work with and sell Scotland’s rare freshwater pearls — and one of just two in the world granted access to precious Scottish gold. (There is currently only a single operating gold mine, located in Tyndrum, a small village at the southern edge of Rannoch Moor.)

The freshwater pearls are formed inside mussels found in select Highland rivers including the legendary River Dee. In ancient and medieval times, the Celts and Picts (a group of people, named by the Romans, who lived in what is now northern and eastern Scotland between the first millennium AD and the 10th century AD) valued the organic gemstones for their supposed spiritual qualities. In historical portraits, Mary, Queen of Scots, is regularly portrayed adorned in them.

And their scarcity is profound — today, only one in every 5,000 mussels may hold a pearl, forged, through the centuries, in the depths of ancient lochs.

They were once more numerous.

Until Queen Victoria came along and felled trees in order to create romantic vistas, a leafy canopy shaded the rivers where mussels thrived. When this shelter started to vanish, rivers warmed and oxygen levels dropped.

Hamilton & Inches have reworked existing pearls, stored away, until now, in private collections, into delicate drop earrings, a mesmerising brooch and gasp-worthy strand of a necklace, from £9,500.

Completely natural, the nacre of each pearl is incredible, further enhanced by brilliant old-cut diamonds. A worthy tribute to Nature and heritage craft.

Honeysuckle, favoured bloom of Arts-and-Crafts designers, rarely features in gem-set jewellery, with the exception of tiaras. The ravishing brooch shortly to go on show at Wartski in London is, therefore, notes the firm’s co-managing director Katherine Purcell, a notable rarity, the only realistic — albeit diamond-encrusted — representation of the flower that she has seen. ‘I think it’s because the elements are so delicate,’ she explains, pointing to the flexible pistils piercing the flowerhead. ‘Imagine trying to set a tiny diamond onto the end of each of those platinum wires; they’re so fragile. It dates from about 1900 and is unsigned; I don’t think it’s ever been worn.’

The brooch is one of more than 250 spanning 3,000 years that the jewellery historian has assembled to celebrate Wartski’s 160th anniversary. The theme of the exhibition is timely, as brooches have made a dazzling comeback in recent years. ‘I would say that half the men present on Young Collectors’ Night at the Winter Show in New York were wearing something decorative on their lapel,’ she notes, adding that, as the only piece of jewellery not designed for a particular body part and that doesn’t touch the skin, brooches can be worn unexpectedly — on the sleeve or back, for example, or in clusters — as a way of expressing personality.

Ilias Kapsalis, manager of Bentley & Skinner, has noticed a big rise in demand, particularly for decorative Victorian and Edwardian designs. ‘A lot of the buyers are men and they can be quite brave. For a velvet jacket, gold with cabochons, perhaps garnets or sapphires, looks great; for black tie, small diamond pins are very elegant; I wear mine next to the button hole on my lapel.’

Wartski’s show is full of fascinating juxtapositions that highlight the many functions and fashions of this most versatile jewel. The original role of the brooch — to secure a garment (the French word, broche, denotes a pin or skewer) — can be traced back to the Bronze Age, when D-shaped fasteners similar to safety pins were formed from a single wire. These developed into the elaborate gold fibulae associated with toga wearers of antiquity. More conventionally disc-shaped were the often richly decorated medieval morses that clasped heavy copes and ceremonial vestments.

Nature has been a predominant theme for goldsmiths, enamellers and lapidaries through the ages. The discovery in Ireland in 1850 of the 8th-century Tara brooch rekindled interest in Celtic jewellery, notably the penannular devices that evolved into plaid and shawl clasps. Decorated with animals, dragons and interlaced patterns, using exceptionally fine filigree and other metalworking techniques, the Tara brooch shows how sophisticated those ring-and-pins became in the hands of the Celtic-Norse craftsmen. It was displayed at the Great Exhibition of 1851 by its then owner, the Dublin jeweller Waterhouse & Co, which made versions of it set with pearls, amethysts and diamonds to sell to customers, among them Queen Victoria and the V&A Museum.

When Stefan Hemmerle created his bejewelled tarantula in 1995, he harmonised the horse-conch carapace with orange-gold sapphires from Tanzania and replicated the arachnid’s hairy legs in textured gold punctuated with white, yellow and brown diamonds. In characteristically inventive fashion, the firm was continuing a zoomorphic tradition that has enlivened brooches since Iron Age craftsmen worked their enamelled copper alloy into stylised birds and beasts.

Nature was never more charged than in the designs of René Lalique, whose flowing birds, insects and flowers revolutionised jewellery with Art Nouveau forms. Superbly worked using opalescent glass and pearls, translucent enamels, horn and semi-precious stones, his pieces often assumed a mystical, Symbolist element, some verging on the disquieting. One gold and enamelled brooch frames a profiled female head with snarling serpents, another features a quartet of blue-enamelled glass fish contesting an oval sapphire in gaping maws. Favoured insects included hornets, stag beetles and spiders.

When the then president of the Supreme Court, Brenda, Baroness Hale of Richmond, stated that the 2019 prorogation of Parliament was unlawful, the £12 trinket from Cards Galore pinned to her black dress became almost more famous than the event: ‘What could Brenda Hale be telling us with her AMAZING giant spider brooch?’ tweeted one Anna Girling — but Lady Hale denies any political allusion. Unlike Madeleine Albright, former US Secretary of State and author of Read My Pins: Stories From a Diplomat’s Jewel Box, the retired judge insists that her attachment to wearing brooches in court was simply an attempt to soften outfits that might otherwise appear forbidding. She describes the spider as ‘a very good artistic theme’ and says there is no particular reason why she has so many arachnoid brooches, adding that her collection of ‘costume jewellery’ includes frogs, bugs and beetles, a dragonfly, fox and cat.

Nonetheless, brooches — conspicuous, often ostentatious — have a long history of coded communication. Nobody had a greater collection than the late Queen, whose every outfit sparkled with a carefully chosen statement of diplomatic, commemorative or sentimental import. As love tokens, brooches operate on many levels, from the jewel depicting a naked couple touching hands worn by Elizabeth I in a portrait of 1583 commissioned by Christopher Hatton, her rumoured lover, to the ubiquitous heart-shaped Luckenbooths that were traditionally exchanged on betrothal in Scotland. Gems were often used as ciphers, the first letter of each stone spelling out such words as love and dearest, just as flowers had their own sentimental language.

In the 18th century, extravagant bouquets of coloured gemstones and enamels were the fashionable adornment to bodices, tied with ribboned bows and often with flowers and insects en tremblant. Large floral compositions were articulated to follow the neckline, with trailing pieces that could be dismantled and worn separately. In about 1850, detachable pampilles, such as the tassled pendant and accompanying pins dangling from the rose spray of a demi-parure by the Audouards, became the height of fashion. The vibrant, sculptural treatment of the Audouard rose reflects the growing fascination with plants that led to more botanically accurate creations. The life-size diamond and enamel lilac spray, made in Paris in 1862 by jeweller Mellerio, is a masterpiece of naturalistic detail, its moonstone-dewed flowers depicted at different stages of bloom, several leaves tipped with autumnal rust.

If the French were the unrivalled masters of gem-setting and enamelwork, British art jewellers created outstanding pieces inspired by medieval and Renaissance models. They combined fine goldsmithing and enamelwork with semi-precious stones in soft, harmonious palettes. A quatrefoil brooch, made by Hardman to Augustus Pugin’s design as part of the latter’s marriage parure, was highly influential for its ecclesiastical interpretation of the Gothic style when it was exhibited at the 1851 Great Exhibition. More heraldic is the crowned marriage brooch of 1871–73 designed by William Burges for his patron and fellow medievalist, the 3rd Marquess of Bute.

Admiration of medieval and Renaissance arts, combined with a commitment to handcraftsmanship, led Arts-and-Crafts designer C. R. Ashbee to envisage a less formal style of jewellery, suited to the Artistic Dress worn by certain circles. He used enamels, metalwork, pearls and affordable stones to create more loosely naturalistic pieces, valued for their inherent artistry rather than costly gems. Ashbee’s favourite peacock motif featured in a number of his brooch designs in about 1900.

The geometry and flimsier fabrics of 1920s fashion inspired new styles of transformable jewellery, notably the double-clip brooch — the height of Art Deco chic. The two identical halves could be worn on facing lapels or opposing sides of a neckline, a look recently revived by brooch enthusiast Queen Camilla, who sported the Greville Ivy Leaf clips inherited from her mother-in-law. The late Queen often wore her Boucheron clips — an 18th-birthday present from her father — as a cascade of aquamarines and diamonds pinned one above the other on her left shoulder.

The Cartier exhibition currently at the V&A highlights the Royal Family’s relationship with ‘the jeweller of kings’. Astounding commissions by the Duke and Duchess of Windsor popularised the emblematic Cartier panther; the Duchess’s 1949 Panther brooch, featuring the sapphire and diamond-studded cat atop a 152-carat sapphire cabochon, was dubbed ‘the atomic bomb of jewellery’.

Leading avant-garde artists designed jewellery for their friends, among them Salvador Dalí and Jean Cocteau, who adopted the disembodied-eye motif for several brooches. Cocteau’s 1937 design was made for the Surrealist collaborator couturier Elsa Schiaparelli, initially of rope and household paint, later reproduced with lacquer paint, blue glass pupil and pearl drop tear by the goldsmith François Hugo, who made jewellery for Pablo Picasso, Alberto Giacometti and Max Ernst.

From feathers, teeth, hair, shells and fossilised wood (jet), to cut-steel, wire and glass, organic and other non-precious materials have long been used, countering conventional perceptions. Grace Girvan’s silver, stone and enamelled piece of 2012 echoes a 1960 pebble-in-silver brooch by Surrealist Jean Arp, her natural forms, tones and textures redolent of sea-scoured objects found on the shore. Maison 203 combines raw materials with modern technology, its faceted fish brooches 3D-printed onto PLA filament, a biodegradable plastic derived from corn starch. Light and shiny, they are manually sandblasted and then hand painted in a choice of colours.

The Wartski exhibition pairs Sylvia Pankhurst’s stark 1909 arrowhead on a chain-flanked portcullis, worn by Suffragettes who had been imprisoned at Holloway, with Betty Boothroyd’s crowned portcullis in gold and diamonds, a suitably sparkling version of the House of Commons emblem for the first Lady Speaker. ‘It’s my ambition that nobody leaves Wartski thinking brooches are boring,’ says Purcell. Her display celebrates the pin in all its diversity and invention. Status symbol, badge of honour, fastener or frivolity, the brooch has shed its image of frumpy carbuncle and is fashionable again — and fun.

‘From Function to Fantasy; The Brooch’ is at Wartski, 60, St James’s Street, London SW1, October 1–12. Entry is free of charge; the catalogue is £10; proceeds benefit The King’s Trust. ‘Cartier’ is at the V&A Museum, London SW7, until November 16

This article originally appeared in the September 18 issue of Country Life. For more information on how to subscribe, click here

‘People will stare. Make it worth their while.’

So said Harry Winston, the famed jeweller. Nancy Astor took the advice seriously. The viscountess, born in 1879, and the first woman to sit as an MP, was the proud owner of a turquoise and diamond tiara and the exceptionally rare Cartier piece went up for auction with Bonhams on June 5 as part of their London Jewels sale. It sold for £889,400, significantly exceeding its estimated value of £250,000-£350,000. No-one said style didn’t come at a price.

Featuring on Country Life’s Frontispiece in 1913, she was born Nancy Witcher Langhorne and moved from her place of birth in Danville, Virginia, to England in 1905. Waldorf Astor, the viscount, was her second husband. They wed in 1906 and lived at Cliveden in Buckinghamshire.

After a career as a hostess and member of the social elite, she entered Parliament in 1919, winning her husband’s former seat, Plymouth Sutton, when he succeeded his peerage and entered the House of Lords. As a member of the Unionist Party, she advocated for educational reform and women’s rights, among other issues. However, although diamonds may be a girl’s best friend, unfortunate controversial views are not — and these ended Astor’s political career in 1945.

In 1931, she wore the tiara to the premiere of Charlie Chaplin’s City Lights at the Dominion Theatre in London. Her sister, Phyllis Langhorne Brand, borrowed it for a court presentation at Buckingham Palace in the early 1930s. Inspired by this, her husband, the Hon. Robert Henry Brand, commissioned Cartier to produce a similar tiara in 1935. This is on display until November 2025 at the V&A museum’s Cartier exhibition, which has an entire room dedicated to tiaras. That’s a whole lot of shiny.

Set throughout with brilliant, old single and rose-cut diamonds, Lady Astor’s tiara comprised a lot of bling, especially for an MP. Jean Ghika, Bonhams head of jewellery, called it 'the star of the sale’.

‘Cartier has long been recognised as the name behind some of the world’s most important jewels and the Astor turquoise and diamond tiara dates to a period when Cartier London were at the height of their creative prowess,' she said. ‘Cartier were later commissioned to produce a similar tiara for Nancy’s sister. However, the design of Nancy Astor’s tiara is truly unique. The distinctive plumes, leaves and scrolls carved in turquoise were drawn from Egyptian, Indian and Persian motifs, which were extensively explored by Cartier throughout the early 20^th century. The firm’s Eastern inspired jewels became hugely fashionable as a result.’

By the Edwardian era, the considerable rise of Cartier and Van Cleef & Arpels saw tiaras fashioned for royalty, aristocrats and those in the social elite who were lucky enough to afford them. This continued into the 1930s, but started to go out of fashion after the Second World War, warn then by only the starriest of stars and the bluest blooded of royals.

However, if tiaras aren’t your thing, worry not. Along with Astor's tiara, there was another significant piece of fashion history sold recently, a piece which was once worn by a woman with a life that was equally interwoven with glamour and scandal. Vintage Van Cleef & Arpels pieces, once owned by Ann Fleming, went under the hammer in Dreweatts's Fine Jewellery sale on June 12. The sapphire and diamond brooch and earring set sold for £32,000 and belonged to Ian Fleming's only wife. Not so Ann — she had more of a Bond-type approach to romance (Fleming was her third husband).

The jewels were not gifted to Ann by Fleming, they were a present from her first husband, Lord O’Neill of Shanes Castle, in 1938, during a now-infamous trip to Paris. At the time, à la Bond, she was also having an affair with Esmond Harmsworth, later Viscount Rothermere, who would become her second husband. The story goes that when she learned that her husband, Lord O’Neill, had planned a weekend in Paris with his lover Maureen, Marchioness of Dufferin and Ava — the Guinness heiress — Ann insisted on going too. But, to make things fair, she brought Harmsworth along for the ride, and that’s where she received the Van Cleef & Arpels pieces.

Ian Fleming was apparently captivated by her wit and defiance. She became a key figure in his life, and is widely believed to have inspired him to write the Bond books, although their marriage was turbulent and they also both had many affairs. The Van Cleef jewel suite, far outsold it's estimate of between £15,000 and £20,000, and captures the drama and excitement of her high-society numerous-husbanded lifestyle. Charlotte Peel, the head of jewellery at Dreweatts, said it offered 'a rare and personal connection to one of the most famous spies of all time'. And it would look good with Astor’s tiara, if, by chance, the same person bidded on both.

In ancient India, it was thought that diamonds were created when bolts of lightning struck rocks. There was a saying: ‘He who wears a diamond will see danger turn away.’ For the Egyptians, diamonds represented the sun — the symbol of power, courage and truth. The Greek philosopher Plato claimed that diamonds were living beings that embodied celestial spirits. According to the Romans, Cupid, the god of love, shot tiny, diamond-tipped arrows at people to make them fall for each other.

I love all gemstones, but I love diamonds more. I love them because they are the oldest of the gems and have travelled the furthest. I love them because they are the hardest mineral in the world: the word diamond comes from the Greek adamas, which means invincible. I love them because every single diamond, no matter how small, has a story to tell. I love them because diamond history and human history are inextricably entwined — diamonds have been sought and found, bought and sold, owned and treasured by queens and commoners, princes and pirates for thousands of years. I love them because they are rare. I love them because they are a gift given to us by Nature. I love them because certain diamonds — diamonds I have connected with in an almost spiritual way — have made me feel protected. I love them because they can be as clear as water, as brightly coloured as a parrot or as black as coal. I love them because each one is unique — a miniature work of art. Most of all, I love them because they are beautiful. Nothing can match the extra-ordinary brilliance, the fire, of a diamond.

I started buying and selling diamonds in a very modest way some 40 years ago — I had just got my first job in Fleet Street and used to wander up and down Hatton Garden in my lunch break, bothering the real dealers — but, even now, my hands still tremble with excitement when I open a brifka (the little paper envelopes used in the trade) to inspect a stone. One of the happiest days in my life was when I was elected to the London Diamond Bourse, where millions of pounds’ worth of diamonds sometimes change hands in a single day, because it allows me to indulge my obsession. Even the description of a piece of diamond jewellery — for example, ‘a tiara consisting of a graduated row of over 100ct of old European-cut, old mine-cut, old-cut pear-shaped and rose-cut diamonds, which detach to form a rivière necklace surmounted by scroll and cluster motifs’ — can set my heart racing.

Diamonds are not only the hardest of the precious gems, they are also the oldest, having been formed between 90 million and three billion years ago. Like all gemstones, they were created in the Earth’s mantle, but in a much, much deeper part of it, where the pressure is about 50,000 times greater than on the surface and the temperature can be as high as 1,300˚C. Currents in the mantle push the diamonds upwards, but it takes volcanic eruptions through kimberlite pipes for them to reach the Earth’s crust. Of the 7,000 kimberlite pipes so far discovered on this planet, only about 60 are rich enough in natural diamonds to be worth mining. Natural diamonds are a finite resource and, since 2005, the volume being mined has fallen by more than one-third. Sooner rather than later, the supply is going to run out.

For thousands of years, the only major source of diamonds was India. The diamonds in any piece of jewellery made before the first part of the 18th century will almost certainly be Indian and probably from the world-famous Golconda mine. In 1725, however, diamonds were discovered in Brazil and, in 1867, they were found in South Africa. Slowly, the supply of diamonds increased. They were still incredibly rare and expensive, but no longer the preserve of royalty or the aristocracy. Many Victorian rings mixed diamonds with coloured gemstones and this was as much about cost as it was about taste.

You may sometimes hear a diamond described as ‘old mine cut’. This term is often misapplied. It means that the diamond has a smaller table, high crown and larger facets — the purpose being to make it sparkle under candlelight.

The first diamonds discovered by our ancestors (the oldest-known diamond ring in the world dates from about 300BC) wouldn’t have been cut or polished — partly because the technology didn’t exist and partly because, in many ancient societies, it was believed that if a stone were broken, its spirit would be released and thus lost. Another ancient belief, still held in many cultures today, was that the back of a gemstone needed to be touching the skin for the owner to benefit fully from its energy and powers.

It wasn’t until the middle of the 14th century that diamonds were fashioned with a symmetrical arrangement of polished facets, designed to show the brilliance (sparkle) and fire (rainbow colours) of the stone. Early cuts include the table cut (a square shape) and the rose cut (made up of many triangular facets). As technology improved and more cutting tools became available, more types of cut with more intricate designs and a larger number of facets became possible. For 300 years, beginning in the 16th century, London was the most important cutting centre in the world.

Over the centuries, different methods and terminology have been employed to value diamonds. In the 16th century, for example, merchants used terms such as ‘tincture’ and ‘tint’ to describe a diamond’s colour and expressions such as ‘made well’ and ‘made poorly’ to describe its cut. Diamonds were often compared to water — the more translucent or the more like water, the higher the quality — the best being described as ‘diamonds of the first water’. Shakespeare alludes to this in Pericles, which was published in 1609:

The one term that has stood the test of time is ‘carat’ (or ct), which originates from Ceratonia siliqua, commonly known as the carob tree. In ancient times, before scales and units of mass were invented, diamond traders compared the weight of a diamond to the seeds of the carob tree.

Diamond rings have been given and exchanged before and after marriage for thousands of years. For example, a poem written in 1475 to celebrate the union of Costanzo Sforza and Camilla d’Aragona, who belonged to two of the most influential families in Italy, includes the words: ‘Two wills, two hearts, two passions are bonded in marriage by a diamond.’ However, it wasn’t until after the Second World War that diamonds truly became synonymous with eternal love. Against a background of economic upheaval, when people were saving rather than spending, De Beers, the largest diamond producer in the world, commissioned a New York advertising agency to come up with a campaign to boost sales. The resulting slogan, ‘A Diamond is Forever’, conveyed the idea that a diamond, like true love, is everlasting, unbreakable and invaluable.

A truer word was never spoken.

On January 5, 1955, Prince Rainier of Monaco and Grace Kelly announced to the world that they were engaged, sending newspaper editors across the globe into a spin and turbo-charging everyone’s fascination with the seemingly fairytale romance.

Kelly — who was 26 when she got engaged — received not one, but two diamond rings. The first one was a Cartier-designed eternity band, encrusted with rubies and diamonds in a stylish nod to Monaco’s national colours. The second was also by Cartier, and gifted to her by her fiancé whilst she was on the set of her last film, High Society.

Production started just a few weeks after the Prince had gotten down on one knee. When the actress was asked to wear a faux diamond ring on set she suggested that she could wear her own instead, but the costume designer deemed the eternity band out of step for the wealthy socialite character that she was supposed to be portraying. And so, Prince Rainier came to the rescue with a 10.48-carat, emerald-cut diamond design.

The couple were married a short-while later — serene despite the media maelstrom that continued to whip round them (20,000 well-wishers greeted Kelly when she arrived in Monaco by boat for the wedding, a significant portion of the country’s population at the time which numbered about 23,000). At some point before the two marriage ceremonies, one civil and the other religious, Prince Rainier commissioned Van Cleef & Arpels to make a pair of earrings featuring pearls ‘to match Grace’s delicate beauty.’ The French jewellery house duly got to work, surrounding the requested pearls with a feather-like sweep of baguette and marquise diamonds, all set in platinum. The set remained in Kelly’s collection until her untimely death in 1982, and, to this day, are still stored at the Palais Rainier in Monaco.

After the nuptial weekend, Van Cleef, who now had the distinct honour of being named a ‘Patented supplier of the Principality of Monaco’, created a second version of the design with one subtle, but significant detail. Kelly’s earrings were made using cultured pearls; the new design used more valuable natural ones. It is this version which will go under the hammer in Woolley and Wallis’ Fine Jewellery sale on April 15-16 with an estimate of £60,000-£70,000.

Above the chimneypiece in the White Drawing Room at Buckingham Palace, Queen Alexandra’s official portrait by François Flameng sparkles with an array of impressive jewels. Painted in 1908, the youthful-looking Queen Consort (who was actually 57 years old by the time her husband, Edward VII, was crowned) appears almost fairy-like, surrounded by a halo of diaphanous gauze and wearing the glittering symbols of her newfound status — Queen Victoria’s small diamond crown, the star and blue riband of the Order of the Garter and, notably, a grand collier résille, made for her by Cartier in 1904. Having it portrayed alongside the formal jewels of British chivalry in this way shows exactly how highly the Queen regarded the Parisian jeweller’s striking creation.

For well over a century, Cartier has been regarded ‘the jeweller of kings and the king of jewellers’, a term famously coined by the sybaritic Edward VII, who was so fond of the maison’s finery that he encouraged Pierre and Louis Cartier (the enterprising grandsons of the firm’s founder, Louis-François) to establish a branch in London in time for his coronation in 1902. When Cartier duly opened its first British boutique on New Burlington Street (it would eventually be run by the youngest Cartier brother, Jacques), the family’s efforts were rewarded with a commission for 27 sparkling tiaras for the coronation and an appointment as official jeweller to the Crown — the first and only foreign jeweller to be so honoured. Other royal households soon followed suit and, between 1904 and 1939, Cartier supplied extraordinary jewels to 15 different monarchs, including Alfonso XIII of Spain, Carlos I of Portugal and Paramindr Maha Chulalongkorn of Siam, who once purchased an entire tray of bracelets set with precious gemstones from Cartier in Paris worth US $450,000 (roughly $15.2 million today).

The enormous industrial, economic and cultural changes that took place at the dawn of the 20th century proved hugely formative for Cartier: its fortunes skyrocketed as the preferred jeweller of the smart set. ‘Compared with the hermetic feeling of the Victorian period, the Edwardian era saw a huge increase in conspicuous consumption, international travel and an ever more theatrical and opulent social life — not only at Court, but in new recreational spaces, including luxury hotels such as The Ritz, which provided ample opportunities to show off dazzling jewels,’ says author and social historian Martin Williams. ‘Furthermore, there was a great passion for the French decorative arts, which Cartier absolutely made its own with intricate garland-style jewellery, inspired by the French architecture of the 18th century. Wearing Cartier effectively became a symbol of your status and excellent taste, as indivisible from the Edwardian or Belle Époque notions of luxury as Worth in the field of couture fashion or Fabergé for artistic objets.’

Cartier’s popularity among the wealthy elite also grew thanks to the company’s inventive craftsmanship, which pioneered the use of novel materials, such as platinum. At a time when elaborate tiaras, epaulettes and corsages were de rigueur at Court, the silvery-white metal lent Cartier’s jewels a strength and delicate airiness that allowed diamonds to shine without adding weight. It’s hardly surprising, then, that Queen Alexandra turned to Cartier for her ethereal, web-like collier, with its detachable emerald and ruby drops, or that her husband commissioned Cartier to produce a romantically curlicued tiara of platinum and gold for his other great love, his long-term mistress Alice Keppel.

Other notable Cartier clients included the cultural patron Constance Gladys, Countess de Grey and the Marchioness of Ripon — who did much to open up High Society to new experiences, such as dining at restaurants, where jewels could be more openly admired — and the ultra-wealthy Consuelo Yznaga, Duchess of Manchester, one of the American ‘Dollar Princesses’ who cut a stylish dash through Britain’s previously fusty nobility and increased its appetite for glamour.

So carefully and discreetly nurtured were the maison’s relationships with the era’s highest profile women that it was to Cartier, naturally, that many of them turned (including the Duchess of Bedford, the Duchess of Marlborough and superstar actress Ellen Terry) when, in 1918, they needed a space to display jewels intended for an auction in aid of children’s charities — the company proudly put their pieces on display at its new premises at 175, Bond Street (still its London flagship today). Long before the arrival of television or cinema, observes Pierre Rainero, Cartier’s director of image, heritage and style, these women were the celebrity influencers of their day: ‘The growing independence and power of these women in Society helped Cartier a lot. It came to be seen as a jeweller at the very forefront, with its craftsmanship, the quality of its pieces and with its daring deci- sions in terms of design.’

With the advent of the Jazz Age, Cartier’s enthusiasm for the avant-garde only increased, attracting a new slew of well-heeled clientele, including affluent Americans. Proto-Art Deco jewels, featuring futuristic, architecturally inspired shapes and innovative materials, such as blackened steel, began appearing in the house’s repertoire as early as 1911 and its first intriguing Mystery Clock, which had no visible mechanism and seemed to ‘float’ in the middle of a rock-crystal base, had its debut in 1912 — the brainchild of an ingenious young horologist, Maurice Couët, hired by Louis Cartier. Only two years later, an unusual ladies’ wristwatch bearing a ‘leopard print’ pattern of diamonds and onyx ushered in a new house motif that would develop into one of the most recognisable jewellery designs of all time — the Cartier panther.

By the 1930s, kaleidoscopic gemstone jewels had replaced white-diamond pieces on the necks, earlobes and wrists of the most celebrated socialites. Pioneered by Jacques Cartier, who frequently travelled to India on gem-buying trips, the jaw-dropping emerald, ruby and sapphire ‘tutti frutti’ pieces were collected by the Singer sewing-machine heiress, Daisy Fellowes, once deemed ‘the most fashionable woman in the world’ by the poet Jean Cocteau. The Woolworth heiress Barbara Hutton, who enjoyed co-ordinating the colour of her car to the jewels she wore each day, was given an exquisite jadeite Cartier necklace by her father, Franklyn Laws Hutton, to celebrate her 1933 marriage to Prince Alexis Mdivani (in 2014, it would set a record as the most expensive jade jewel ever sold at auction).

Later still, the American-born Duchess of Windsor, Wallis Simpson, made international headlines wherever she went, often adorned in one of more than 80 Cartier creations she owned, including a vivid amethyst and turquoise bib necklace of 1947 or a panther brooch with a 152.3 carat-sapphire from 1949, which she liked to wear on her shoulder.

Now, a new exhibition at London’s V&A Museum will shine a spotlight on Cartier’s illustrious design heritage and its journey to becoming a jewellery tour de force. Titled simply ‘Cartier’, the retrospective will include the largest display of the maison’s work in the UK for almost 30 years, with more than 350 objects, including hitherto unseen drawings from the Cartier archives and spectacular pieces lent by the Royal Collection. Highlights include the Manchester Tiara, crafted for Consuelo Yznaga using more than 1,400 of her own diamonds; the Hutton-Mdivani jadeite necklace; a selection of emblematic panther jewellery; and an opal tiara, com- missioned by the Marchioness of Hartington — née Kathleen ‘Kick’ Kennedy — in 1937 and shown in public for the first time. ‘There is so much richness to the Cartier story,’ says co-curator Rachel Garrahan. ‘I hope visitors will feel they leave with a deeper under- standing of the extraordinary combination of qualities that made Cartier so pioneering in terms of design and technique — and in creating an image of itself that lives on today.’ Indeed, by making itself synonymous with quality, originality and a coterie of remark- able women, Cartier has transcended from being ‘jeweller of kings’ to being jeweller of Queens, style mavens and luxury lovers around the world. Long may it reign.

‘Cartier’ at The Sainsbury Gallery, V&A Museum, runs from April 12–November 16.

With civil war ravaging the streets of St Petersburg in 1918, a 12-year-old girl raced against all odds to flee the city. Having found an escape route, she sewed a beloved pendant — a aquamarine of more than 30 carats, set in diamond with a pretty bow detail — in the hem of her skirt and left her old life behind.

Several decades later, when she was well in her nineties, she bequeathed that one precious relic of her childhood to a dear friend. By the time that friend’s child, who had since inherited the pendant, consigned it to Dreweatts to sell at auction last year, little was known of its history and nothing of its maker. However, Charlotte Peel, head of jewellery at the auction house, had a suspicion: ‘The style was similar to other Fabergé pieces — that ribbon-bow surmount, the quality of the workmanship. Then, I saw the inventory number scratched in the side.’ The faint digits were consistent with those used by Fabergé.

There was no time to discover more ahead of the November sale in which the pendant was due to appear, but when Dreweatts was ‘lucky enough’ to receive a private Fabergé collection to sell, the pendant was pulled from the original sale and added to the new one. This gave Peel time and means to contact not one, but two Fabergé experts, Stephen Dale and Geoffrey Munn, both of whom agreed with her attribution — but the best was yet to come: ‘Geoffrey very kindly got in touch with the people who hold the Imperial Cabinet Ledgers and tracked down the inventory number of the aquamarine pendant.’ It turns out that, in 1912, the imperial family had bought it (for 460 roubles) to give it as a gift. The father of the young girl that had fled with it was a doctor, so it might have been a present for services rendered.

Peel feels ‘incredibly lucky’ that the entry appeared in the ledgers, because much disappeared in the aftermath of the October Revolution, particularly during the Red Terror, when anyone belonging to the ‘possessing classes’ was at risk of being summarily executed. ‘Anyone who worked for Fabergé took as much as they could and hid it and kept it as quiet as possible, so we're still discovering new ledgers, new archives, new books of drawings, and every time one of those gets found, there will be a new flurry of discoveries. It’s a very exciting area of work.’

The aquamarine pendant went under the hammer on March 19 as part of Dreweatts’ The Mastery of Fabergé, Jewellery and Objects of Vertu sale and sold for £35,000. It had an estimate of £7,000-£10,000.

Every New Year brings with it new opportunities and potential for success, but as we head out of the starting gates for 2025, it’s worth remembering that another twelve months can go by in the blink of an eye. And making time to get away and properly reconnect with loved ones throughout the year is hugely important; these holidays are the chance to make memories you’ll treasure for decades to come.

When it comes to summer getaways, there is nowhere better on Earth than the Mediterranean, and nobody knows the region better than The Thinking Traveller. Over the years they have developed an outstanding reputation amongst the cognoscenti for their carefully curated collection of exceptional villas across Puglia, Sicily, Tuscany, Greece and Corsica.

At The Thinking Traveller every villa on their books is hand-selected for its unique story, magnificent location and excellent amenities – providing a home from home which guests can enjoy without having to lift a finger. Their properties come in all shapes and sizes, ranging from romantic beachfront retreats to Tuscan Agritorismos in the countryside or large private estates with multiple swimming pools, private chefs, tennis courts, private beaches and gardens peppered with olive and lemon groves.

For 2025, multigenerational holidays – where two, three or even four generations holiday together – are expected to continue grow in popularity and for these clients The Thinking Traveller offers a selection of substantial properties which are perfect for family and friends who want to holiday together but also require their own space when they need it.

When time is precious families don’t want to worry about organising trips and booking tables, and The Thinking Traveller has expert local teams on the ground in every location who act as a concierge service, taking care of everything from recommendations for the best beaches and local markets, to organising yacht charters and restaurant bookings.

Below we have rounded up some of the finest The Thinking Traveller villas in the Mediterranean for different kinds of multigenerational groups, from those with young children to families looking to host a milestone occasion in style; but if you can’t find exactly what you’re looking for, the experts in their villa matchmaking service will talk through your requirements to provide a shortlist, and then help you to handpick the perfect retreat for your family this summer.

The Best Mediterranean Villa for families with small children: Trulli Andrea in Puglia, Italy

Comprising two traditional Trulli buildings, Trulli Andrea is large enough to guarantee everyone their own space; with six bedrooms the property sleeps 12 comfortably. Outside, the expansive lawn is fantastic for lots of running around, and there are plenty of shaded areas plus two swimming pools – one for grown-ups and one for the children. Find out more about Trulli Andrea

The best Mediterranean villa for a special celebration or milestone birthday: Don Arcangelo all’Olmo, Sicily, Italy

Unquestionably one of the finest properties in Sicily, Don Arcangelo all’Olmo is an incredible place to host a milestone birthday or celebration. Inside, the interior design is beautiful, with elegant reception rooms and twelve generous bedrooms. Outside are mature gardens including olive and lemon groves, sea views, and a luxurious pool area complete with shady terrace. Guests enjoy evenings dining under the stars in the gazebo, receiving five-star service from the villa’s in-house team including their marvellous private cook. Find out more about Don Arcangelo all’Olmo.

The best Mediterranean villa for relaxing with older teenagers: Treis Villas in Paros, Greece

Set up as three neighbouring houses, each with its own pool and sea views, the communal spaces at Treis Villas provide plenty of places to eat, drink and relax together – but it’s also easy to escape to your own space when you need it. Just a short walk from the beach, the property comes with an on-site basketball court, table tennis and a barbecue. Find out more about Treis Villas.

The best Mediterranean villa with an in-house chef: Azalea in Skiathos, Greece

Set directly on a stunning beach, the in-house team at Azalea offers a family style service, and prepares a refreshing daily breakfast, a light lunch and dinner every night so you don’t need to lift a finger all holiday. Find out more about Azalea.

The best Mediterranean villa for activity lovers: Crossing Together, Sicily, Italy

Sicily is an all-year-round paradise for lovers of adventure and culture alike, whether you’re looking to explore ancient Etruscan sites, climb Mount Etna, or escape to the beach or the golf course, Crossing Together is the perfect seafront villa from which to explore the island’s east coast. With eight large bedrooms the villa features a refreshing natural water pool, expansive terraces and the option to set up an outdoor cinema after a long day exploring. Find out more about Crossing Together.

These villas are just a taste of what The Thinking Traveller has to offer – their hand-picked properties across the Mediterranean are all exceptional places in which to relax, unwind and enjoy some precious family time. Discover more at www.thethinkingtraveller.com and get in touch with their teams directly to find your perfect Mediterranean escape.

When you purchase through links on our site, we may earn an affiliate commission. Here’s how it works.

The history of men’s jewellery dates back to ancient times, with examples found in the adornments of Chinese emperors, Indian maharajas, Mayan kings, and Egyptian pharaohs. In ancient Egypt, the first signet rings were recorded to officiate letters and documents, with the Romans also adopting the accessory. Men’s jewellery expanded during the Renaissance and Baroque eras, and in the 20th century, Cartier created a platinum necklace with thousands of diamonds for Maharaja Bhupinder Singh of Patiala, the Maison’s largest ever single commission.

Fast forward to today and renowned jewellers Hancocks is seeing a significant increase in men buying jewellery for themselves, from traditional to more contemporary pieces. The company is famed for its signet rings, having made Edward VII’s signet ring when he was Prince of Wales.

Hancocks’ managing director, Guy Burton, has been taken aback at how signet rings have come back into fashion recently. ‘It’s gone up a lot recently. We make about 40 a month. About five years ago it was only 10 a year. There’s a lot of new blood coming into the market.’ Hancocks’ signet rings are die-struck and hand engraved, using the traditional technique of seal engraving, meaning that when the ring is pressed into softened wax to form the seal, the resulting impression reveals the correct image.

All of Hancocks’ signet rings are meticulously crafted in the UK and can be engraved with initials, family crests, or custom designs and each signet ring offers the wearer something personal and meaningful to don every day.

An alternative to the signet, Hancocks’ range of exquisite gypsy set rings offer a masculine way to enjoy the company’s exceptional curation of gemstones. The gypsy ring design harks back to the days of highwaymen, when the Victorian upper classes would avoid ostentatious ring designs and set their gemstones in thick bands of gold to conceal their true wealth.

Today, these rings are admired for their subtle sophistication, allowing a large stone to be set in a bold surround yet remain understated. Hancocks’ selection features exceptional old-cut diamonds and gemstones, which sparkle intensely under glimmering candlelight.

As well as its own designs, Hancocks holds a carefully curated selection of jewels from the finest jewellery houses and craftsmen in the world, incorporating more than 250 years of jewellery design. Vintage men’s jewellery, cufflinks, antique brooches and signed gold chains and bracelets by the likes of Cartier, Van Cleef & Arpels and Bulgari form a collection that the discerning gentleman could not pass by.

Hancocks’ Georgian townhouse on St. James’s Street is perfectly situated for those who enjoy the finer things in life, with antique dealers and auctioneers, the finest artisan crafts, from shirtmaking and millinery to cheese and wine, and London’s most renowned members clubs on the doorstep.

For further information, please telephone 020–7493 8904, or visit www.hancockslondon.com; www.hancockssignetrings.com

Hancocks Managing Director Guy Burton: ‘It’s inspiring to see more men embracing this aspect of their individuality’

Have you seen a rise in interest in jewellery for men?

Absolutely. We have observed a significant increase in interest among our male clients, who are expanding their jewellery choices beyond traditional items like cufflinks. Our gypsy set rings are particularly popular with men, as they offer a stylish way for men to appreciate the finest gemstones. Jewellery serves as a personal expression and it’s inspiring to see more men embracing this aspect of their individuality.

What pieces are you finding are most popular with male clients?

In addition to signet rings and our gem- set gypsy rings, distinctive vintage gold chains with unique link designs, and vintage signed zodiac pendants are particularly sought after, alongside brooches and lapel pins. In our experience, purchasing either our one-of-a-kind pieces, or those from our vintage and antique collections, gives individuals the confidence of owning something distinctive that nobody else in the room will be wearing.

What advice would you give to men who are new to wearing jewellery? Jewellery should be a source of joy and self-expression. My best advice is to choose pieces that resonate with your personal style and make you feel comfortable and confident. Additionally, when investing in fine jewellery, it’s important to buy from reputable sources. Having access to knowledgeable expertise can greatly enhance your experience and ensure you make informed choices.

Hancocks: Sparkle of genius

Historic jewellery firm Hancocks, now in its new St James’s home, specialises in old-cut diamonds pieces that gleam and turn

The glittering new home of Hancocks London, the jeweller that makes the Victoria Cross

The new home of Hancocks London celebrates the historic brand’s history of making exquisite jewellery and providing the bespoke service

I remember the first (and only) pair of diamond earrings I was given, in my twenties: tiny, antique dragonfly studs from Bentley & Skinner on London’s Piccadilly, purveyors of the finest antique jewellery. ‘You can only have these if you promise to wear them. Don’t leave them sad and lonely in your jewellery box,’ insisted my benefactor. I duly wore them on repeat, even on my wedding day as my ‘something old’.

For those fortunate enough to have a jam-packed jewellery box — or pieces snaffled away in strategic hiding places (‘no one will look in the rusty tea caddy at the back of the cupboard’) — I can hazard a guess that you might not wear your more sentimental pieces. Inherited jewellery carries the weight of emotional memories — sometimes lovely, but sometimes sad and complicated, which makes forgetting about them easier than begrudgingly pinning them to a coat lapel once a year.

If these jewels don’t fit with your life or simply aren’t your style, selling them to buy something new and shiny is an option — don’t let the money dissolve into the next heating bill or food shop. However, I would encourage owners to think outside the box and commission something special. Rather than replace, rework said sparkler into a piece you (or a beloved family member or fiancée) will cherish wearing and pass down the generations with stories to tell. If only jewellery could talk.

‘Taking a glimpse into the past, how a jewel was once worn and the special memories it possesses means my bespoke projects pay homage to the past, as well as looking forward to the different ways the jewel can be worn in the future,’ explains Cassandra Goad, a master of the jewellery rework who has a delightfully quirky and creative eye. ‘The most memorable bespoke transformations honour the sentimentality of a jewel, yet also bring to life a modern stylistic sensibility and creative vision.’

The jeweller is used to clients, old and young, bringing in pieces they never wear, desperate to put them to some use. A brooch can be transformed into a bracelet and earrings or an out-of-date engagement ring remade in a chunkier setting to be worn cocktail-ring style instead. ‘With a pinch of bravery and an abundance of creativity, we can reimagine antique jewellery for new life phases and style, rather than hiding it away in a jewellery box,’ she suggests.

During lockdown, my mother rifled around in the rusty tea caddy and produced some dusty diamonds, which once belonged to my great-great-aunt Amy (who was born in 1893 and died the year I was born — 1986, for those wondering). She had a pair of whopping, diamond flower earrings, but lost one in a Second World War air-raid shelter, so she turned the lone earring into a ring.

On her death, it was left to my grandmother, who wore it only on special occasions, worried about losing it and deeming it a little ostentatious (not a sentiment I have inherited). The style later became dated and it was remade into a line ring, which never quite worked with the original setting, then the diamonds came to me. A daunting treat. It’s taken nearly four years of deliberating, but I now have a mesmerising ring by which I am distracted when typing these words.

During the makeover, I was bound by my mother’s emotional plea: ‘You must re-use the original gold in the new ring, too, to keep it all together.’ I opened my little black book and fell upon Eliza Walter — or Lylie — who provides a special service reusing old gold. Send her your old chains, charms and unloved gold pieces, of varying carats and she will re-use them or pop them into her melting pot (layman’s terms) offering you credit towards a new, bespoke piece or something from her current collections.

Lylie’s rings have a delicious tactility that makes you want to wear them every day, until your finger feels alien when bare. ‘Bespoke reworking is such fun because you have a finite amount of material, stones or gold, and it’s so precious to someone,’ the designer says. ‘Often, our remodelling clients bring everything they own in with them — one arrived with a sports bag full of jewellery and we had to sort out what was precious and what was not. We might look at what they have in the jewellery box and work out where the spaces are, taking into account how they live their life and wear their jewellery.’ If you always wear chunky knitwear, you might want a longer, weightier chain that sits over the top, for example.

Many of Lylie’s remodelling clients are a little older: ladies whose hands might have changed in the years since an engagement and who want to bulk out their bling to create something that balances better on the finger. Ring jackets are common in this instance — or ‘party jackets’, as they have become known — that sit snuggly either side of an existing ring to create something new, but retain the integrity of the original piece.

Proposals with heirloom rings also feature, when couples bring an old ring in together, to rework it to suit the bride-to-be better. Men might not have the confidence to opt for more avant-garde rings on their own, but, with their fiancée, they have the courage to push the design. ‘Jewellery holds so much that is autobiographical. You have different pieces for different points in your life,’ says Lylie. ‘I think if you can start with old ingredients, the sentiment is already there, so it becomes doubly important.’

If someone inherits a piece, they might wear it for a while to help them with the grieving process and feel closer to the deceased. In time, they’re prepared to rethink how they wear it. ‘I am making some wedding rings at the moment. The wife was incredibly close to her granny, so it matters to her that the gold we use is from her grandmother’s jewellery,’ Lylie divulges. ‘It goes through a process called “can casting”, where a tiny casting pot is heated separately, just for that gold.’

For my inherited diamonds, we started by looking closely at the nine stones (round cuts — old-cut, modern round-brilliant cut and all slightly different sizes) and discussing how important it was to keep them together and re-use the gold. Lylie did some initial pencil sketches that we refined together. Then came the 3D print, a maquette of the ring-to-be that allows you to feel the scale of a piece, try it on and tweak. This is the beauty of using modern tech in designing jewellery: you can get a sense of the volume of it before it’s made in gold and more difficult to change.

I wanted something bold, sculptural and, above all, wearable, so we opted to add nine-carat gold, which can handle more battering. I was inspired by a Belperron ring from the 1940s, the era when great-great-aunt Amy lost her earring. When presented with the final design in its exquisite blue box, both my and my mother’s eyes filled with tears, such was the emotional link to the past brought poignantly back to life. After all, jewellery is worth far more than its weight in gold.

Hetty Lintell is the luxury editor of Country Life

No Mr Bond, I expect you to drive: The Rolls-Royce dripping in gold created to celebrate 60 years since Goldfinger

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Peacocks look amazing.

But they are horribly, just horribly loud when they start squawking. And, like any large fowl, they have a habit of — ahem — 'doing their business' all over your lawn, on your garden paths, and around the paving stones that frame your delightful pond.

Luckily, the peacocks that adorn this website, and pop up occasionally on the pages of our printed Country Life counterpart, have the same graceful lines as the real thing without causing any disturbance to your life. And that disturbance can indeed be great.

The small flaw in this plan is something that you've no doubt already spotted: you can't put a website, or a page from a magazine, on display in your garden. That's where sculptor Jane Gordon Clark comes in, with this life-size recreation of a peacock in 'cold-cast bronze resin'. (We've no idea what that means, but we're pretty sure that bronze resin can't poo on the grass, so you're safe.)

What prompted this fine piece of work by the artist? Well, it seems that Jane's experiences of these birds mirror our own fairly closely:

‘I was inspired by the peacocks in a friend’s garden, where they roam imperiously as if royalty, surveying their realm,’ says Jane.

‘My peacock can gracefully enhance a garden, but will not screech.’

The peacocks can be commissioned at £7,500 — see www.janegordonclark.co.uk for more details.

Credit: Getty Images/EyeEm

Peacocks: Everything you need to know about 'the limousine of the avian kingdom'

Graceful peafowl have never been shy about coming forward, although most of us admire the males’ flamboyant tail feathers —

Credit: Alamy Stock Photo

Country Life Today: The ASBO-worthy peacocks causing chaos in a sleepy English village

Today's round-up features a spat over roaming birds, looks at how our environment is shaping our shopping habits and a

In the realm of luxury jewellery, the engagement ring stands as a profound symbol of love, destined to be cherished forever. For those seeking a truly personal touch, commissioning a bespoke engagement ring offers an unparalleled opportunity to craft a piece rich with individual meaning and precious memories.

In her stylish and welcoming west London studio Julia Lloyd George’s passion for engagement rings is evident in her bespoke commissions, offering clients an intimate and personalised experience.

From the initial consultation to the presentation of the final masterpiece, Julia’s expertise guides each step, ensuring that every design is personal to the love story it represents. The handcrafted nature of her work and the distinctiveness of each stone mean that no two pieces are ever alike.

Renowned for her exceptional craftsmanship and understanding of coloured gemstones, Julia has dedicated her career to perfecting the art of bespoke jewellery. Her journey began at the esteemed Sir John Cass School of Art in London, followed by an apprenticeship with a distinguished Hatton Garden manufacturer.

At a time when women were scarce in the trade, Julia honed her skills in traditional craftsmanship at the highest level. Her early work designing for Garrard & Co led to the creation of collections for them under her own name, and in 1985 Julia established herself as an independent designer and manufacturer.

With designs distinguished by their simplicity and wearability, often featuring a striking interplay of coloured gemstones set in unpolished, hand-finished yellow gold, the tactile quality of this material, combined with Julia’s talent for sourcing rare and extraordinary stones, has earned her a hugely loyal following amongst admirers of contemporary fine jewellery.

The bespoke design process with Julia is a shared journey, forging a unique bond between client and jeweller.

For those seeking a singular engagement ring, Julia Lloyd George offers not just a piece of jewellery but a lifelong treasure crafted with personal care and exceptional artistry.

Find out more at julialloydgeorge.com

Credit: Julia Lloyd George

Julia Lloyd George: Fine jewellery for marking life's milestones

Julia Lloyd George makes exceptional contemporary fine jewellery which is perfect for marking special occasions, whether you're buying from her

Hancocks built its legacy has built over the past 175 years and established an international reputation as curators of the rarest and finest jewellery. It was in 1849 that Charles Frederick Hancock set up his eponymous jewellery business on the corner of Bond Street and Bruton Street in London. Dealing in the finest jewellery and gemstones, he quickly built a reputation for excellence.

Within a year of trading, he had been granted a Royal Warrant from Queen Victoria and by 1856 he’d been tasked with creating the newly introduced Victoria Cross Medal, the highest honour that can be awarded to members of the British and Commonwealth Armed Forces for gallantry in active service. To this day, Hancocks holds the unique distinction of being the only firm to have ever produced the Victoria Cross.

Although times have certainly changed since then, Hancocks remain one of the oldest British family-owned jewellers in London, now belonging to the Burton family, and recently moved the firm into its current location, a five-storey Georgian townhouse on St. James’s Street.

Managing director Guy Burton says of the move: ‘It feels both authentic and deeply meaningful that we go back to being what we were originally known as: one of the world’s foremost independent jewellery houses.’

Each floor of the Georgian townhouse has been meticulously curated to tell a distinctive story through the jewellery on display, with each gallery named after a previous Hancocks location. On the ground-floor Sackville Gallery, clients can view a wide selection of jewellery together with Hancocks’ extensive library of jewellery books, historical diaries and a curation of historic tiaras and notable pieces from the brand’s archive collection.

On the first floor’s Bruton Gallery, visitors are able to preview a remarkable collection of vintage, antique and signed pieces from the world’s best jewellery houses, with the second floor’s Burlington Gallery dedicated to Hancocks’ collection of old-cut diamonds and important gemstones all in one-of-a-kind handcrafted settings, designed by the company.

As one of the world’s leading jewellers specialising in old-cut diamonds, Hancocks’ belief is that the older style of cutting produced a vastly superior stone aesthetically and each one has a unique beauty and romantic charm that set this striking jewellery collection apart.

The diamonds in this curated collection were cut during the 19th and early 20th centuries. At this time, all stone-cutting was done by hand and eye, and it would take years for a cutter to become skilled and experienced enough to be able to ‘see’ into a rough crystal and know just how to facet it to realise the full beauty of the gem. Like Michelangelo releasing David from the marble, these cutters worked to remove the unwanted parts of the rough material to reveal the inherent beauty of diamonds in all their glory.

The stones Hancocks selects are the best of the best and diamonds as lovely as these can only be the result of the most exceptionally skilled diamond cutters. All of Hancocks’ antique cut diamonds are unique in their combinations of shape, cut and proportions. The company uses old mine cuts with their beautiful, rounded cushion shapes, old pear-shape brilliants and old European cuts, vintage carré and Asscher cuts — and it is also very fond of a French cut.

Generally speaking, old-cut diamonds tend to have a smaller table (the flat facet at the top of the stone), a higher crown and an open or polished culet. This often means they have a deeper profile than modern diamonds, but this extra depth enables them to display a huge amount of coloured fire and life. This is the case even in dimly lit environments, where the higher crown and the larger pavilion facets mean that the old-cut diamonds pick up on even very low levels of lighting; they were of course initially designed to look as magnificent by candlelight as they were in daylight.

Hancocks has built longstanding relationships with the USA and so is well-placed to make the process of purchasing as easy as possible for American clients. Hancocks is not only a business, but a heritage of excellence passed down through generations.

For further information and prices, please visit www.hancocks-london.com or telephone 020–7493 8904, WhatsApp: +44 7977 500504 Instagram @hancocks_london

From dealers and auctioneers, to artisan shirtmakers, milliners and purveyors of cheese and wine — not to mention London’s most renowned members clubs — St. James’s has always served those looking for the finer things in life. Into this rarefied world now enters Hancocks London, a name synonymous with exquisite craftsmanship and unparalleled luxury in the world of fine jewellery, which relocated its showroom from a shop within the Burlington Arcade to a renovated Georgian townhouse on St. James’s Street in June of this year.

With a rich legacy, including four Royal Warrants, Hancocks has long been a destination for a discerning clientele seeking the finest in bespoke jewellery and exceptional service. Now, the jeweller can share its unique history in its new premises and showcase its full collection for the first time in decades.

The decision to relocate was driven by a desire to return to the brand’s roots. Guy Burton, managing director of Hancocks London, owns and runs the business with his parents, and sister, Amy Burton, who curates the vintage selection and creates bespoke designs. ‘Throughout our history, Hancocks has served as a distinguished jeweller and manufacturer,’ Mr Burton explains.

‘In 1849, we were originally the House of Hancocks, known for manufacturing jewellery, important silverware and the like for clients including royalty, heads of state and the great and the good. In 1916, we became more of a shop and, post-war, continued selling vintage and signed jewellery, while still making our own designs. As we move forward, it feels authentic and deeply meaningful that we return to being what we were originally known as — one of the world’s foremost independent jewellery houses.’

The new location boasts five floors, quadrupling the space of its previous site and foregoes traditional retail counters. This allows Hancocks to offer a more bespoke and intimate customer experience. ‘Our new premises represent the modern Hancocks of today while acknowledging our historic roots. The townhouse is four times bigger than our previous space and we have been able to reimagine the customer journey and are now able to offer a bespoke and intimate experience befitting of our jewels,’ Mr Burton notes.

Each floor of the Georgian townhouse has been meticulously curated to tell a distinctive story through the jewellery on display, with each gallery named after a previous Hancocks location. On the ground floor is the Sackville Gallery, where clients can view a wide selection of jewellery; the walls are lined with Hancocks London’s extensive library of jewellery books, ledgers and historical diaries. This floor will also feature a curation of historic tiaras and notable pieces from Hancocks’s archive.

Later this year, the spotlight will be on a new area dedicated to the Victoria Cross medal, which Hancocks has been making since 1856. On the first floor’s Bruton Gallery, visitors will be able to preview a remarkable collection of vintage, antique and signed pieces from the world’s best jewellery houses. From timeless heirlooms to rare finds, each one tells a story of history, heritage, craftsmanship and artistry.

The second floor’s Burlington Gallery is dedicated to Hancocks London’s collection of old-cut diamonds and important gemstones. Here, clients can engage with experts in an elegant setting. For those celebrating engagements and special milestones, champagne is served in a secret bar area inspired by Lake Como’s Art Nouveau Grand Hotel Tremezzo.

Hancocks’s new home was originally built in the 18th century and has served as a private residence, a Victorian military tailor and a yacht broker. The building now pays homage to the jeweller’s storied history, with artwork and exhibits showcasing notable moments and achievements, including the mounting of the Hope Diamond and commissions for esteemed figures such as Napoleon III and Antony Eden. Hancocks has also enlisted the expertise of an independent historian to delve into its rich history and to facilitate the digitisation of its historical diary dating back to 1870.

‘With this move, we reaffirm our commitment to providing our clients with an unparalleled experience and a showcase of the finest jewellery craftsmanship in the world,’ says Mr Burton. ‘We are excited to be creating our own moment in Hancocks’s history and being able to showcase our full collection of the finest jewels we have curated for the first time in many years. We are really thrilled to unveil our new home on St James’s street. It’s a space that not only honours our rich heritage but also embodies the essence of modern luxury.’

For further information, please telephone 020–7493 8904, or visit www.hancocks-london.com

The noble horse has been a popular theme in jewellery design for centuries. In ancient times, equine emblems were used in jewellery to symbolise strength, speed and beauty, and many cultures believed the horse had spiritual or mystical powers. These days, you can capture the majesty and magic of horses with exquisite pieces to treasure forever from Cece Jewellery. From a family of artists, Cece Fein Hughes grew up amid Dartmoor’s natural beauty, including the moor’s famous ponies, and her rich imagination thrived.

Drawing on mythology and symbolism, each of Cece Jewellery’s designs create and reflect meaning for its wearer. The brand’s beautifully rich, recycled gold pieces are decorated with hand-painted enamel artworks, intricate engravings and precious gems. Inspired by ancient stories and fairy tales, they are each a miniature canvas individual to the wearer — an heirloom-worthy addition to any jewellery collection.

Pieces from the Traveller’s Tale collection are talismans of adventure and freedom. The Traveller’s Tale ring is handcrafted from frosted 18-carat gold and features an oval-shaped face accented with an enamel horse and hand-tied bouquets of wildflowers. The miniature scene is intricately engraved with a horseshoe at the centre, finished with a star-set diamond sky. A wearable work of art, it’s perfect for gifting or adding to your own jewellery line-up.

The horseshoe has long been a symbol of luck and protection, steeped in centuries of magic and story. The versatile Horseclips, also from the Traveller’s Tale collection, celebrate the romance, myth and legend of this equestrian tool. Wear Horseclips as a ring, earrings or with a belcher chain to form a bracelet or necklace, and add charms for a personal, modern take on a vintage style. Each Horseclip is studded with seven star-set diamonds, a nod to the Irish proverb according to which seven iron nails wards off evil spirits. Cece’s Horseclips face skyward, collecting luck and fortune as you travel through life.

For a more personal piece, Ms Fein Hughes specialises in bespoke commissions and will create a tale of your life and loves in fine jewellery, illustrating meaningful moments in a beloved piece to treasure. This intimate process begins with a personal consultation where Ms Fein Hughes will suggest a choice of designs. With hand-painted and engraved motifs, your personal story is transformed into jewellery.

In her charming fine jewellery, she draws on designs from Nature and imagination, moving from earthly to ethereal at will. For equine enthusiasts, Cece Jewellery captures the soul of the horse, in a marriage of dreams and stories that move the eye and heart.

Visit www.cecejewellery.com for further information; @cecejewelleryofficial

Handmade by skilled artisans of a bygone age and unique in style and design, each sparkling piece of antique jewellery has its own special story to tell. From its pretty Tudor-fronted shop in Royal Tunbridge Wells, Kent, family jeweller G. Collins & Sons has a deep appreciation for the art and skill of antique jewels and is passionate about providing the very best expertise to those who entrust it with their precious heirlooms.

Founded by London jeweller Harry Collins almost 40 years ago, G. Collins & Sons prides itself on the quality of the craftsmanship and the level of service it offers. Spanning three floors above the charming shop, its workrooms are home to 23 skilled artists.

With a combined 400 years of experience, many specialise in the restoration of antique pieces. Downstairs, the showroom houses its knowledgeable team, which is always ready to assist clients with buying or selling their most treasured jewels. To have this calibre of expertise under one roof is truly special.

G. Collins & Sons is a family jeweller to its very core, with Harry’s son, Josh Collins, who joined the company at 16, now managing director, citing the importance of keeping tradition alive as one of its hallmarks.

Josh Collins comments: ‘We are renowned for creating bespoke handmade jewellery here in our workshop in Royal Tunbridge Wells, but we also specialise in curating the finest period jewellery. Some of the jewellery made more than 100 years ago is, to this day, a true work of art and timeless in style.’

G. Collins & Sons has a passion for fine jewellery of all periods: Georgian, Edwardian, Belle Époque, Art Nouveau, Art Deco and later 20th century. Some of the great names in the history of jewellery making are frequently to be found in its collection. Quality and customer service is of utmost importance, with clients leaving the shop feeling part of the extended Collins family.

For further information, please telephone 01892 534018, visit www.gcollinsandsons.com or email sales@gcollinsandsons.com

Coming from a family of artists, Cece Fein-Hughes grew up on Dartmoor, surrounded by natural beauty that allowed her rich imagination to thrive. During a visit to the V&A with her mother, she was captivated by a Renaissance gold band, crafted in France, enamelled with pink-and-white flowers and engraved with declarations of love. The fusion of beauty and meaning took her breath away, so much so that she changed direction from art history and set her course towards goldsmithing and the world of fine jewellery.

Cece studied design at the British Academy of Jewellery, where she fell in love with the ancient art of enamelling; a technique that her work rediscovers in all its endless possibilities. Today, Cece’s original watercolour paintings are transformed into jewellery by a master enameller, using the historic art of champlevé enamel, which combines engraving and carving with painting.

Each exquisite piece starts its journey in Cece’s London workshop, forged from beautifully deep, recycled 18-carat yellow gold. It is then passed on to one of London’s most renowned enamellers, where every design is hand-engraved and hand-painted using fire and crushed glass to create each design. The piece is finally embellished with pearls and star-set diamonds to complete the miniature work of art, which is individual to the wearer; a precious heirloom to be treasured for generations.

As well as a ready-to-wear line, with new collections released twice a year, Cece also offers a bespoke service for clients who want to create their own one-of-a-kind piece of jewellery. An intimate process begins with a personal consultation. Listening to the customers dreams and stories, Cece will propose a choice of designs, sketching out her ideas to help visualise the piece.

Drawing on a client’s inspiration, Cece translates their story into a miniature painting on gold. With hand-painted and engraved motifs, their personal mythology is transformed into beautiful jewellery. Perfecting this collaborative process is the choice of finishing touches for the piece — from coloured precious stones to glittering diamonds, there is beauty and symbolism in the smallest of details.

In her charming fine jewellery, Cece draws on motifs from Nature and imagination, shifting between earthly and ethereal at will. Crafting a design language both tangible and otherworldly, Cece’s hand-enamelled jewellery moves the eye and heart.

Visit www.cecejewellery.com for further information, or follow @cecejewelleryofficial on Instagram.

For generations families have chosen to mark life’s significant moments by exchanging special pieces of jewellery. Milestone birthdays, graduations, weddings and anniversaries or the birth of a child are all opportunities to give something beautiful to a loved one to mark the occasion.

With a reputation for outstanding craftsmanship, Julia Lloyd George has decades of experience matching clients to their perfect piece of fine jewellery, whether it’s a bespoke creation or part of an existing collection. After training in Hatton Garden, and designing her own lines for Garrard & Co, Julia set up as an independent designer in 1985. Over the past 40 years she has become known for her ability to source the most exceptional stones from across the world, and she now boasts a hugely loyal following amongst admirers of contemporary fine jewellery.

Julia’s distinctive style is clean and simple and, despite its modern aesthetic, also wonderfully timeless. Using unpolished and hand-finished yellow gold alongside a mixture of cabochon and faceted stones, her work has a tactile quality which immediately sets it apart from the big brands. Her eye for colour is unrivalled, and her work with Paraiba tourmalines, in particular, is recognised industry-wide.

More recently Julia and her team have observed a growing demand for bespoke jewellery, as clients come to her studio to commission one-off pieces to commemorate special moments in their lives. The bespoke journey is a highly engaging process, and designing such a piece with Julia in her studio is always a uniquely personal experience. From the initial meeting to the first sketches and through to the presentation of the finished piece, each step is guided throughout by Julia’s decades of expertise in bringing clients’ ideas to life.

Julia’s signature styles are ideal for reworking family pieces and she is adept at transforming these into more wearable styles. Key to this process is being able to realise the potential within the existing jewellery: recently she was able to transform an unused diamond necklace into an engagement ring, a necklace and two stunning pairs of drop earrings.

The bespoke process can be daunting for some people, and Julia is an expert at making clients feel at ease. With her many years of experience Julia is adept at interpreting and creating what her clients truly want. Some come with a clear picture of the finished piece they wish for, while others only have a vague idea. Both offer an exciting starting point. The process can be as collaborative as the client wants, starting with sketches and moving on to designs which can be refined together. Sometimes these initial design stages can actually take longer than the manufacturing, especially if there is an unusual stone to be sourced, but it is always worth it when the client opens their box and sees their finished piece for the very first time.

Jewellery has a unique way of capturing a moment in time, and preserving it for the giver and the wearer as well as for future generations. The process of designing together, or indeed picking out the perfect piece of memorable jewellery, produces a bond which lasts which is why families find themselves returning to Julia when they require something special. Her studio space is warm and welcoming, and always open to clients and their families in search of their heirlooms of the future.

Find out more at www.julialloydgeorge.com or call + 44 (0)207 373 5093

The past of esteemed French jewellery house Chaumet is steeped in European royalty, but we need only look through the history books of British aristocracy to find some of the brand’s most exquisite pieces gracing heads, necks and elegant limbs everywhere from the London social scene to the grand country seats of Great Britain. 

For centuries, Paris was known as the epicentre of quality and creativity for high jewellery and, in 1770, Marie-Étienne Nitot cut his teeth under the watchful eye of Ange-Joseph Aubert — jeweller to Marie-Antoinette — before launching his own jewellery house, which later became Chaumet. 

Napoleon had quite the eye for jewellery and his fascination with it went beyond mere aesthetics. His passion was largely driven by political motives. He envisioned France as the unrivalled hub of luxury and fashion, claiming its position at the forefront of design and opulence. Nitot, by then a master jeweller, played a pivotal role in fulfilling the Emperor's grand vision. Not only did he create the magnificent coronation sword for Napoleon and the splendid papal tiara for Pope Pius VII, but he also gained the prestigious title of jeweller to the Imperial court. His status was set once he became the personal jeweller to Empress Joséphine herself — making him the most sought-after maker across Europe. His creations not only adorned the imperial couple, but also epitomised the magnificence and splendour of the French empire. 

After Napoleon’s fall, the designs took on a more romantic aesthetic, with Nature at the heart of the pieces, often depicted in the most realistic form. From 1885, Joseph Chaumet took the steering wheel, building the jewellery house into what it is known for today, with a glorious passion for the Belle Époque. Through his visionary creativity, the company became the name of choice for European aristocracy, as Chaumet became a master in exquisite and creative tiaras, to be spotted only on the finest coiffures.

The house’s relationship with Britain’s elite began at least in the 1820s and reached a milestone in 1848, when the first boutique opened on New Burlington Street, W1. There were a few prominent French clients living in London, who had fled France after the Revolution of the same year. Chaumet was reassured that there was a hunger for French design among the British upper classes and the brand’s crowning glory came when Queen Victoria was captivated by the jeweller’s pieces, buying two bracelets on the spot and placing more orders. The monarch promised ‘to buy a lot from him for Christmas’ and even ordered a tie pin designed from her own sketch (which remains in the archives at 12, Place Vendôme in Paris). Prince Albert also became a regular client, fully earning the jeweller the Royal seal of approval. 

In 1902, when a second branch opened in London on New Bond Street, an illustrious clientele converged on it, including Edward VII, other prominent members of the aristocracy and notable financiers, as well as an array of other public figures, including artists, dandies, athletes, and suffragettes. The stamp of honour came in the form of a Royal Warrant granted by Edward VII to Chaumet in 1908. Among the other many distinguished visitors were Clementine Churchill, the wife of the Prime Minister; Lady Howard de Walden, who commissioned tiaras adorned with reed and star motifs; and the Duchess of Portland, wife of the 6th Duke, a passionate advocate for humanitarian and animal-right causes. Notable literary figures such as Edith Wharton and Lady Juliet Townsend also graced the premises, as did the 2nd Duke of Westminster, whose acquisition of several tiaras and a shell pendant embellished with an extraordinary aquamarine was widely admired.

Later, the Duke of Windsor and his wife, Wallis Simpson, made a visit, choosing a breathtaking lipstick tube-watch as a testament to their discerning taste. Chaumet’s clientele also counted author Vita Sackville-West and Gertrude, Lady Cory, an accomplished pianist and embroiderer, who generously bequeathed an extensive collection of jewellery to the Victoria and Albert Museum in 1951.

Fast forward to today and the New Bond Street boutique still cherishes its extraordinary connection with British society. After months of painstaking renovation, it triumphantly reopened its doors in 2021, revealing a delightful space that seamlessly blends Victorian charm with the timeless chic of Paris. The boutique holds a treasure trove of delights, including the enchanting Joséphine collection, the sophisticated Liens series and the whimsical Bee My Love collection. The latter, a new range, provides endless possibilities for styling, whether worn alone or stacked, with the exquisite designs encouraging mixing and matching.

Find out more at the Chaumet store at 174, New Bond Street. London W1S 4RG or at chaumet.com

I have been thinking about the coronation of His Majesty King Charles III, about tradition and about continuity.

It would, of course, be the height of presumption to compare myself in any respect to His Majesty. However, I cannot resist pointing out that our families do have one thing in common: Bentley & Skinner. The company has served the Royal Family almost since its origins nearly a century and a half ago.

Its founder, Alfred Skinner, was one of the most sought-after jewellers of his time.In 1893, for example, he was commissioned by the Duke of Devonshire to create a magnificent tiara using 1,881 exceptionally fine diamonds. Indeed, this may have been what brought him to the attention of Queen Victoria for, in the late 1890s, Mr Skinner was summoned to Buckingham Palace to show jewellery to Her Majesty.

The firm’s first Royal Appointment was subsequently granted by King Edward VII and, except from King George VI, it has held Royal Warrants ever since.

Clearly, serving the Self family for three generations carries no such cachet, yet I can honestly say that Bentley & Skinner has always treated us as if we were royalty.

The first time I visited the company’s premises was as a teenager with my mother in the mid 1970s. I remember being mildly In partnership with Bentley & Skinner intimidated by the uniformed sergeant from the Corps of Commissioners at the door and completely overawed by the cabinets full of jewellery. A year or two later, we attended its exhibition of antique rings, the catalogue of which I still have. That exhibition opened my eyes to the jeweller’s art. A romantic youth, I yearned to own an ancient Roman or medieval ring.

Later, I worked in Fleet Street and used to spend my lunch hours wandering up and down nearby Hatton Garden bothering the dealers with questions and generally making a nuisance of myself. But it was that exhibition of antique rings that really sparked my love of precious gemstones and fine jewellery. Bentley & Skinner has, then, enjoyed our family’s patronage for at least 50 years. My late mother was a customer, I am a customer and now my children are also customers.

While researching articles and books, I have been lucky enough to explore behind the scenes at almost all the world’s major jewellery houses, from Paris to Jaipur and from Florence to New York. I am a member of the London Diamond Bourse and the Society of Jewellery Historians. In short, I have had ample opportunity to indulge my passion for jewellery. So, why do I give Bentley & Skinner all my personal business? There are many reasons, but the most important can be summarised in a single word: trust.

Since 1881, the goldsmiths, silversmiths, diamond setters, pearl-stringers and other craftsmen employed by Bentley & Skinner have produced exquisite piece after exquisite piece in their own dedicated workshops.

Meanwhile, in the firm’s showrooms its gemmologists, diamond graders, valuers and other experts have provided clients with advice, information and, of course, some of the most fabulous new and antique jewellery available anywhere. Importantly, the company’s environmental and sustainability policies ensure that it is committed to responsible jewellery and ethically sourced precious metals and gemstones.

The business has prospered because it has remained independent and because generation upon generation of clients — including royal clients — know that the company can be completely depended upon. Depended upon for knowledge, for choice, for value and for traditional, first-class service.

If there is one thing about Bentley & Skinner that, being an inveterate gossip, I find mildly frustrating it is the firm’s discretion. Search for a list of its famous clients over the past 143 years and you will get almost nowhere. Bentley & Skinner has a longstanding reputation for being able to provide tiaras and diadems, but apart from a discreet reference to supplying the television series Downton Abbey, it is impossible to discover precisely who to. I also often wonder who else, like me, wears one of their reassuringly heavy, die-stamped, gold signet rings, but have resigned myself to never knowing.

In 1907, the Corporation of the City of London commissioned a gold casket as a gift to Kaiser Wilhelm. In 2007, the firm was responsible for making Damien Hirst’s diamond-encrusted skull ‘For the love of God’. Otherwise, its distinguished but essentially private clientele remain shrouded in mystery.

Recently, I dropped into Bentley & Skinner’s showroom to collect a small gift I had commissioned and overheard a young man explaining that his bride’s mother’s and grandmother’s engagement rings had been supplied by the firm and that although he did not have a large budget, he wished to surprise his future wife by carrying on the tradition. What greater recommendation could any jeweller have?

Bentley & Skinner, 55 Piccadilly, London, W1. For further information, telephone 020–7629 0651 or visit www.bentley-skinner.co.uk

FREYWILLE was born out of a love of art and culture. Founded in 1951 by Viennese artist Michaela Frey, and run by Dr. Friedrich Wille after her death in 1980, the Austrian jewellery brand creates beautifully depictive enamel designs. Many of the modern, artistically-intricate jewellery creations that you see today are born from Simone Gruenberger-Wille’s designs.

Pendant Gloria, £3,328; Ring Luna Piccolissima, £3,075, 18kt gold and diamonds from www.freywille.com

All the pieces continue to be handcrafted in Vienna, where they have been since 1951, by highly skilled craftsmen. The process involves the demanding craftsmanship of fire enamelling which produces lifelong, colourful designs that you can wear and treasure forever.

The method of fire enamelling involves using a layer of melted, coloured glass (often in powdered form), that when exposed to high temperatures, fuses to the surface of the metal and produces a colourful, glass-effect in the desired pattern.

Bordered Bangle Donna, £1,130, 24kt gold plated from www.freywille.com 

Inspired by some of the world’s greatest artists such as Gustav Klimt, Claude Monet and Vincent Van Gogh, FREYWILLE was founded from a passion for art that has been translated into unique jewellery. It claims to be the only company worldwide to make fine jewellery inspired by fine decorative art.

The unique collections allow wearers to strengthen their personal style, whilst also paying homage to art and culture which has shaped the world we live in. It is this passion for art which is the driving force behind the brand.

Ring Victoria, £3,426; Desiree Earrings, £2,895, 18kt gold and diamonds from www.freywille.com

Their latest collection pays homage to Sandro Botticelli’s ‘The Birth of Venus’ (mid-1480s). The romantic collection includes necklaces, watches, earrings, rings and bracelets, all inspired by the Italian painting which depicts the goddess Venus arriving at the shore after her birth.

Luna Piccolissima Clip Earrings, £5,758, 18kt gold and diamonds from www.freywille.com

In the enamel designs, pink floral elements float near a gold-gilded scallop shell, and fluid, gold-hued swirls convey the idea of movement, reminiscent of the painting, as the wind god Zephyrus is surrounded by floating pink flowers, and Venus’s long auburn hair blows in the wind as a result.

Stand-out pieces from the collection include the Bordered Bangle Donna, made from 24kt gold-plated and fire enamel and the Luna Piccolissima Clip Earrings in 18kt solid gold with brilliant diamonds.

Earrings Aurora, £2,856; Ring Luna Piccolissima, £3,075, 18kt gold and diamonds from www.freywille.com

Discover more online via www.freywille.com or via Instagram @freywille_uk

If you’re looking for an extra special way to celebrate the upcoming Coronation of King Charles III — one that transcends street parties, afternoon tea and waving flags — then cast your eyes over Elizabeth Gage’s new Royal Collection.

Her latest offering of fine jewellery takes the form of bold rings, necklaces, pins and earrings, made in either 18ct or 22ct gold, with colourful stones and jewels that are representative of those found in Royal collections.

Tsavorite Garnet and Diamond Tapered Templar Ring, £18,720; The Helios Bracelet, £21, 720; Aquamarine Valois Earrings, £12,000, from www.elizabeth-gage.com

Ocean blue Sapphires, luscious green Tourmalines, bright Amethysts, romantic pink Rubellite and timeless Diamonds are just some of the treasured gems in her handcrafted jewellery, chosen not only for their value, but their depth of colour, shape and overall appeal.

This, combined with her use of delicate wire work and gold beading, repoussé and the ancient goldsmith technique of granulation make her one-of-a-kind designs instantly recognisable.

As a result, over her 60-year jewellery career, Elizabeth Gage has become synonymous with exquisite British craftsmanship.

Tourmaline and Rhodolite Garnet Templar Band Ring, £9,000, from www.elizabeth-gage.com 

Her unique style showcases unapologetically bold designs to empower women and reinforce their sense of individuality. The decorative talismans are made to be worn daily like a second skin — not just for special occasions — to serve as an extension and celebration of each woman’s own style.

Her collection of iconic Templar rings are each as unique as the next, striking in style and shape. In many, a wire twist edge frames either edge of the prominent ring, with a feature gem at its centre, around which are intricate designs, often representing foliage or leaves.

The Zodiac collection will no doubt appeal to those that are guided by the moon and the stars. A selection of the zodiac motifs, whether it be diamond-encrusted fish to represent Pisces, or a gold-encrusted Ram, to represent Aries, are featured on thick gold bands or on signet rings in white or red gold.

Amethyst Cabochon Ring, £8,100; Sapphire and Ruby Agincourt Band Ring, £14,400; Purple Jasper Necklace with Alexander the Great Pendant, £30,000; Gold and Black Enamel Earrings, £13,200, from www.elizaebeth-gage.com 

The unparalleled craftmanship and distinctive designs transcend time and can be passed down through generations as treasured heirlooms.

As a result, Elizabeth Gage is today recognised as one of the world’s most influential jewellery designers, having received an MBE for her unwavering commitment to jewellery as well as the Queen’s Award for Export and the De Beers Diamond Award for her Agincourt Ring. A selection of her pieces are also displayed in the Victoria and Albert Museum as part of their permanent jewellery collection.

Coronation Pin, from www.elizabeth-gage.com 

The new Royal Collection encapsulates the spirit of His Majesty’s Coronation, and includes statement rings, such as the Tourmaline and Rhodolite Garnet Templar Band Ring and bold necklaces, like the Purple Jasper Necklace with Alexander the Great Pendant.

Elizabeth has also designed a special piece for His Majesty’s Coronation in the form of an 18ct yellow gold, one-of-a-kind pin that will be revealed over the Coronation weekend.

The Coronation Pin takes the shape of a crown, featuring five diamond-set tips, to represent five symbols: royalty, power, immortality, glory and sovereignty.

The auspicious deep red spinel on the pin was chosen for its symbolic connotations with devotion and longevity, and also references the ‘Ruby Spinel’ in the Imperial State Crown.

Left to right: Rubellite Ottoman Ring, £31,200; Blue Cats Eye Tourmaline Heliotrope Ring, £22,000; Green Tourmaline Charlemagne Ring, £12,000, from www.elizabeth-gage.com

Discover more online via the website www.elizabeth-gage.com or in the London showroom, located at 5 West Halkin Street, London, SW1X 8JA.

Stockist

www.dior.com — 020–7172 0172 160-162 New Bond St, London W1S 2UE

Shoot directed by Hetty Lintell and photographed by Paul Zak. Video by Obstacle Films.