‘The atomic bomb of jewellery’: Why the brooch is back in fashion

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