Published on by Olivier Maupas-Sehikyan · Creations
Some pieces of jewellery are made for a date. Others are born to say what words struggle to carry. This one belongs to the second kind: a bespoke rose gold diamond necklace, conceived by a loyal client for her daughter, on the occasion of the birth of her first child. I made it entirely by hand, in my workshop in Saint-Sébastien-sur-Loire, near Nantes. Here is how it came to life.
A grandmother, a small pouch of jewellery and an idea for a rose gold necklace
That day, a client I have known for several years walked into the workshop. She was radiant. Her daughter had just given birth to a baby boy, and she was becoming a grandmother for the first time. Before she had even sat down, she told me she wanted to mark the occasion, but not with just any gift.
Her idea was a beautiful one: to give her daughter a piece of jewellery that would speak of the passage from one state to another, that of a young woman becoming a mother. A piece for pride, for love handed down, for the continuity of a family.
She placed a small pouch on my workbench. Inside were a broken chain, two rings she no longer wore and a few small diamonds she had kept over the years. Everything was in 18-carat rose gold. "I would like it to be made with my gold," she simply said. I remember picking up the pouch with care, the way one lifts something heavier than its weight.
We talked at length about her daughter. She likes clean, contemporary, feminine lines. She wears little jewellery, but chooses well what she does wear. The necklace had to be discreet, something to be worn every day, yet able to assert its presence.
The diamond circle pendant: a symbol that imposed itself
The circle came into the conversation quite naturally. It has no beginning and no end: it speaks of eternity, union and the cycle of life. In a family where a new life joins the chain of generations, it felt right to me. I pictured it linking the grandmother to her daughter, and the daughter to her child, like a family loop worn against the skin.
I took out my notebook and drew several sketches. We chose a diamond circle pendant in rose gold, entirely grain-set, like a small crown of light hanging from a fine matching curb chain. She approved the design almost immediately.
The stones remained to be chosen. The diamonds came from the mother's own jewellery, and I sorted them one by one under a x10 loupe: clarity, colour, calibration. For a continuous circle, no stone must stand apart from the others. The eye should glide across the whole piece without ever settling on a flaw. The diamond, let us remember, is the hardest mineral known (10 on the Mohs scale). Its 57-facet brilliant cut returns light with great intensity, which suits a circle meant to sparkle quietly at the hollow of the neck.
As for 18-carat rose gold, it is an alloy of 75% pure gold, enriched with copper and a touch of silver. Its warm tone sits beautifully beside the white of the diamonds and suits the tenderness of the moment.
From family gold to an 18-carat rose gold necklace: the work in the workshop
Everything was made on site, in Saint-Sébastien-sur-Loire. I began with the melting. Each piece from the pouch was weighed and checked, then melted at around 1,064 °C. The metal was purified with borax, then cast into an ingot. I admit this moment moves me every time: several distinct pieces of jewellery, each with its own small story, become one and the same material, ready to serve the next generation.
The circle, the chain and the claws of light
The ingot was rolled into a sheet, then drawn down on the draw bench to obtain the sections I needed. From this sheet, I cut a flat ring of constant thickness with a piercing saw. I then worked it with a needle file, contour after contour, until it was perfectly round. On a motif this pure, the slightest irregularity would show immediately.
The seats for the diamonds were cut with a conical burr, all around the circle, at regular intervals. It is precision work to the millimetre: the stones must be distributed around the full circumference without the slightest offset.
The curb chain, for its part, began as a round wire patiently drawn down on the bench. Each link was shaped, curved, then soldered one by one. It is slow work, but it is what gives the chain its suppleness and strength.
The grain setting
Next came the moment I love most: the setting. Each diamond was placed in its seat, then grain-set with the graver and the beading tool. Several hours of concentration, without speaking, almost without breathing. Each grain must be perfectly formed, because it is what holds the stone.
I joined the pendant to the chain with a fine ring and fitted a rose gold lobster clasp at the back. To finish, the necklace was sanded, then polished with felt and cotton. The gold then revealed all its warmth, and the circle all its continuous brilliance.
Presenting the birth jewel: an emotion that spoke for them
This birth jewel was given to the new mother a few days after her son's arrival. I was not there, but my client described the scene to me. Her daughter opened the case, looked at the circle, then at her mother. Neither of them really found the words, and none were needed: their emotion said everything.
Since then, the young woman has worn around her neck the visible trace of a lineage that continues. Her mother's gold, her mother's stones, and at the centre, this endless circle that reminds her that the story goes on with her child.
If you too have a moment to mark, or old jewellery lying forgotten in a drawer that you would love to see reborn, come and talk to me at my workshop in Saint-Sébastien-sur-Loire, near Nantes. We will take the time to talk, over a coffee and a sketchbook, and we will see together what your story wants to become.
