Before He Speak, His Ring Bespoke
Bite my wallet (not a euphemism)!
As aforementioned, I was in England for Christmas this year, meeting my baby nephew for the first time.
I got a lot of terrific gifts from my family, but I think my favorite - and certainly the most memorable - is this ring my sister had made for me, bearing a picture of her son.
I wore the ring proudly as I gallivanted around London in the weeks following. When strangers asked what brought me to England, I would explain, and then, delightedly, remember that I had a picture of Louie on hand (literally). I would show them proudly, and they were, most of the time, very weirded out.
Which begs the question: is this ring weird? I think… yes. But after someone commented that it was “very Victorian,” I realized that that was the disconnect - it’s not that my sister had a completely novel idea to immortalize a loved one’s image in jewelry, but rather that it’s currently not in fashion to wear your loved ones around town.
To which I say: it should be! And perhaps… it will be soon?
Let me speculate for a moment. The wealthy elite are always looking for ways to prove their fortune to the masses, and thereby separate themselves from them. Up until recently, clothing has been time-consuming to make and therefore expensive, so having more than one or two nice outfits connoted wealth.
With the rise of fast fashion, it now easier than ever to dress like you’re wealthy, even if you don’t have wealth. So how can the wealthy differentiate themselves?
My theory (and hope) is that specific and bespoke style will make a comeback - that in an age of AI and Shein, the wealthy with taste (this is where the speculation falls apart, as most have no taste) will start commissioning artists and craftsmen to create things that other people do not have.
The coolest thing Zuck has every done was commission this statue of his wife:
Unfortunately this is the only cool thing he has done in years, and one statue is not enough to redeem oneself from being a fascist. But it was a rare moment in which a billionaire used their money to do something whimsical in a romantic way, instead of whimsical in a Lex Luthor way.
For some time now, I have dreamt of commissioning a portrait artist to paint me and my husband upon our betrothal. I think that would be so fucking chic. And before I get replies saying “you should just commission a painting of yourself! girlboss!!” we all know that a commissioned painting of oneself has a very different vibe to it. Don’t gaslight me!
My mom and I just saw a phenomenal Kerry James Marshall exhibit in London, and I was especially impressed by this painting of Harriet Tubman and her husband John:
I think that - currently - we are severely lacking romance. Not today’s fancy feather bed thread count romance, but real, good old fashioned, grab the nearest tree and hold on for dear life romance. And while I strongly suspect that Emerald Fennel’s Wuthering Heights will be abysmal, I do think she is tapping into a strong latent desire right now, to be loved deeply and desperately and disgustingly. Nosferatu tapped into this as well - in an era where everyone is trying to prove that they care the least, there is something vastly appealing about someone that is fully fucking obsessed with you. Even if that someone is a dessicated corpse with a pornstache.
Obviously, there is a point at which obsession is unhealthy (I am not advocating for stalking), but I think some obsession in a romantic relationship is necessary. Frankly, I don’t want a husband unless he is obsessed with me. And is it so much to ask that he prove it with accessories?
For example, I cannot stop thinking about this wallet I saw on twitter:
I’ve been sending this to people, and I love how divisive it is. Some people are like, “ew, that’s insane” and others agree with the person who tweeted out the screengrab: “all I ask.”
I fall into the latter camp, partially because this feels very designer to me (Loewe? Schiaparelli?) while also being punk rock. And I love the creator’s phrase “imperfect so as to not offend god.” Everything that’s made these days is too perfect! Let’s see the stitches, the eraser marks, the human error that means that someone learned a craft simply because they loved you!
Romance is becoming sanitized. It is being white-washed and squared away and strangled by therapy speak. People in love used to say things like “I would die for you,” and now they are standing at altars saying “I promise to love you so long as it is healthy for both of us.”
And our adornments are reflecting that. Nowadays, you’d find it worrisome if a friend lost a loved one and insisted on wearing only black for a full year after. But why? Is it so wrong to show that you feel loss? Is a year too long to openly grieve someone deeply important to you?
I recently discovered Victorian hair art, often created from the hair of a deceased loved one to commemorate their loss. And yes, if someone I knew cut off the hair of a loved one’s corpse so they could weave with it, I would be like “damn is she okay?”
Like, that is crazy. But is it crazier than having an urn with your west highland terrier’s ashes in it sitting in the closet (because you don’t really want to put it out, but you can’t convince yourself to throw it out)? I know a lottttt of people with dog ashes on the mantel.
Here’s a Victorian mourning bracelet. I cannot believe this was made without a machine; I assume it is woven like lacework around a tube of some kind, and then pulled off the tube… but somehow it retains its shape? That is WILD.
I love that the piece is an ode to a loved one, but the making is also an ode; everyone who would see you wear this would understand that you spent weeks painstakingly braiding hair to prove your grief. Phenomenal.
Check out this choker, too:
I love how much these pieces are a blend of animalistic grief and precision. There is something so carnal about wearing the DNA and image of a deceased loved one on your arm. Combine that with unbelievable craftsmanship, and you end up with something extremely soul-stirring.
I would be remiss if I didn’t take a brief moment to shout out a recent discovery of mine, Leila’s Hair Museum. Basically, a woman named Leila in Independence, Missouri started collecting Victorian hair art, and amassed so much of it that she opened a museum.
I’m not saying that Leila is on my vision board for the direction I hope my life takes. I’m just saying that were my life to take this path, I don’t think anyone would be particularly surprised.
Now. Let’s talk about rings, perhaps the symbol of romantic love. I get that people want an engagement ring that’s wearable, that is tasteful and elegant. I really do. But how is a simple ring with a beautifully-cut gemstone a promise of love to one specific person? Is that not the equivalent of having a painting of you and your husband commissioned where his face is Mike Wazowski’d?
Additionally, in the age of lab-grown diamonds and gorgeous cubic zirconias, what actually marks a ring as expensive? Inspired by my Louie ring, I’ve been daydreaming lately about a cameo engagement ring, in which my beloved would be carved into the surface of a gem:
I love how subtle this one is - that from afar, you wouldn’t even know it’s a cameo. The light has to hit it just right.
Or one could go a more mythological path - here’s a gorgeous vintage ring that looks like two men, but is actually four upon closer inspection:
Imagine that, but you and your husband (or, I suppose, you and your husband and your husband’s two boyfriends, if you’re in a polycule (which, it cannot be repeated enough, I believe to be against god’s wishes)).
For a different take on the cameo: a “lover’s eye” brooch:
Now, I understand that these might be too showy for some of you - you may not want every Tom, Dick, or Harry knowing what your husband looks like. To which I would say: how about this?
A beautifully-made ring, concealing no secrets. Right?
Think again!
I’m dead serious when I say: bring this shit back! How fucking dope is this!!! If I were Taylor Swift, this is the kind of stuff I would be swimming in. I would have a miniature portrait artist on retainer. You’d never have to come up with a thoughtful Christmas gift ever again.
Obviously, lockets are still around, which is great. That said, I think it’s hard to find modern lockets that look truly beautiful, and truly expensive - minimalism is cheaper, so They™ have convinced us it’s better. I reject that! Run this back:
And what, pray tell, should we put in these lockets? Thank god we have miniature portraitists on retainer. I’ll take three of these:
While we’re on lockets, I think this necklace would be a huge slay for matriarch of a huge family:
Now I’ve been very harsh on the modern world in this substack. So I do want to take a moment to admit that there have been some cool scientific innovations on the bespoke, nostalgic jewelry front. You can have a diamond made from the ashes of a loved one, which I think is more appealing to me scientifically than emotionally:
Less classy: there is a woman on tiktok who is making what she calls “jizzy jewelry,” which is exactly what you think it is - you mail her your excretions and she makes jewelry out of them. Here is the link to her site, for those of you who are interested.
(You thought this newsletter was free. But this is how you pay. I heard about it, so now you have to.)
To be honest, I cannot in good faith promise that I will follow through on any of these tirades. There is a really solid chance that you will see me one day with a simple diamond ring, no painting of me and my husband in the foyer, and wedding vows stating that I will exit the relationship as soon as it is no longer convenient for me.
But I do believe that we should all be more whimsical with showing our affection for our loved ones, and that now, more than ever, if we have disposable income, we should pay artists to make us cool, specific objets d’art. We need artists and they need to make rent!
Against all odds, I still want to have children someday, and when I die, I want them to be left with lots of very cool, well-made stuff that they feel guilty discarding. To love someone is to burden them with material goods. And pressboard ain’t gonna cut it.
This is my most Golem-coded substack to date (I hope, at least), and I very much enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoyed reading it - please forward this to any clueless straight guys you know thinking of buying their wives a Tiffany heart necklace for Valentine’s this year. Your wife doesn’t want that. She wants a brooch made of your baby teeth.
E’er pining and coveting,
Johnny