-
Your shopping cart is empty!
MENU
Your shopping cart is empty!
It’s a question that comes up now and then, usually over the third cup of tea of the day. There was no grand plan, no slick presentation. The truth is, this whole endeavour wasn’t born in a boardroom. It started with a feeling. A shared frustration, really. A feeling that something important was getting lost. We’d look at the jewellery in the world, so much of it gleaming and perfect and utterly anonymous, and feel a bit hollow. It was beautiful, yes, but it was quiet. It had nothing to say. The real beginning, the story we tell ourselves in the workshop, is about a dented silver locket. It belonged to one of our founder’s grandmothers. It wasn’t worth much in monetary terms. It was old, the clasp was a bit funny, and it had seen better days. But on the back, scratched in by a slightly unsteady hand, was a set of coordinates. A secret map. It turned out to be the spot where her grandfather first told her he loved her. And in that moment of revelation, that battered piece of silver became priceless. It held a story. It was a tangible piece of a life. That locket became a sort of talisman for us. A reminder of what jewellery could be, and should be. It’s not about perfection; it’s about personality. It’s not about carats; it’s about connection. We looked at that locket and then at the mass-produced items in shop windows and thought, we can do better. We can make things that hold stories. We can create tiny, wearable maps to people's most cherished memories. That’s the whole point. That’s why we get our hands dirty every day. We’re in the business of making future heirlooms, the kind of pieces that get passed down in dusty old boxes, full of dents and love.
Our workshop is our home. It’s not a sterile laboratory or a silent, soulless factory floor. Tucked away in a corner of the UK with more character than polish, it’s a space that lives and breathes along with us. The floorboards have a personality of their own, offering a friendly creak to announce your arrival. We’ve never quite managed to sort out the draft from the big window, but we’ve learned to love it. It’s all part of the charm. The first thing you’d notice upon stepping inside is the sound. It’s a constant, layered symphony of creation. There’s the rhythmic, reassuring tap-tap-tap of a jeweller’s hammer, coaxing a flat sheet of silver into a gentle curve. In the corner, the high-pitched, focused whine of the pendant drill signals that some fine, detailed work is underway. Then there’s the soft, almost meditative ‘shush’ of emery paper smoothing an edge, a sound of pure patience. And providing the bass note to the whole composition is the low, steady hum of the polishing motor, a sound of promise, of the final reveal. But it’s not all mechanical. The human sounds are just as important. The hiss of the kettle is a constant punctuation mark in our day. The radio is always on, usually tuned to a station that plays songs we all pretend to hate but secretly love, sparking endless, good-natured arguments. And above it all, you’ll hear laughter. We’re a firm believer that you can’t make things with heart in a miserable place. The air here has its own unique fragrance, a blend you won’t find bottled anywhere. It’s a mix of the sharp, clean scent of hot metal, the slightly sweet, waxy aroma of carving blocks, and the earthy, greasy smell of polishing compound that seems to get everywhere. It’s the perfume of craft. The workbenches themselves are maps of our days, scarred with the marks of past projects, burns from errant soldering flames, and stains of every colour. They are cluttered with well-loved tools, some of which look ancient but work better than anything new. Each of us has our favourites, our go-to pliers or the hammer that just feels right in the hand. Pinned to the walls are not charts and targets, but bits of life. A thank-you card from a couple who used one of our pieces in their wedding. A sketch from a child for a bracelet for their mum. A photo of a dog whose paw print we engraved onto a pendant. This place is not a factory. It’s a living, breathing space that soaks up our energy, our focus, and our collective passion. We like to think a little bit of that chaotic, happy, tea-fuelled atmosphere gets packed into every box we send out.
A workshop is nothing without the people who bring it to life. We’re not a big, faceless corporation. We’re a small, tight-knit crew, a band of artisans who work together like a well-oiled machine. We’re a team in the truest sense of the word. There’s the ‘Metal Whisperer’ among us, the one who seems to understand the very nature of silver and gold. Watching them work is a lesson in patience and respect for the material. They can take a stiff, unyielding piece of metal and, with just the right amount of heat and gentle persuasion, turn it into something fluid and graceful. Their workbench is an arsenal of hammers of every conceivable shape and size, each one used to create a different texture, a different feel. They lay the foundation for every piece, ensuring it’s not just beautiful, but strong and built to last. Then we have our ‘Stone Sage’. This is the person with an almost supernatural connection to gemstones. Their corner of the workshop is a glittering dragon’s hoard of tiny, colourful treasures. They handle each stone with a reverence that’s captivating to watch. For them, every gem has a personality, a preference for how it wants to be seen. They’ll spend an age positioning a stone in its setting, turning it, tilting it, until it catches the light in a way that makes them audibly gasp. They specialise in the painstaking art of setting, a process that involves no glue, only skill, pressure, and a deep understanding of engineering. They talk about ‘tucking the stones in’, making them snug and secure, ready for a lifetime of shining. We also have our ‘Detail Devotee’. If a piece involves a complex pattern, a delicate piercing, or an intricate wire detail, it has passed through their incredibly skilled hands. They work with a jeweller’s saw with blades as fine as a strand of hair, cutting out shapes that seem impossibly complex. They are the masters of the finishing touches that you might not even notice at first, but that elevate a piece from something pretty to something truly special. They operate on the principle that the back of a pendant is just as important as the front, a belief in total, uncompromising quality. Finally, there’s our ‘Scribe of Secrets’. This is the artist who adds the most personal element of all: the engraving. They are storytellers who use a sharp steel graver instead of a pen. They can carve a flowing, elegant script or a clean, modern font with equal precision. They always say that the moment before the first cut is the most important. It requires absolute presence and focus. They are, after all, carving a permanent record of a memory, a promise, or a private joke. Every single letter is treated with the gravity it deserves. We’re a mix of skills and personalities, but we are united by a single, shared passion. We’re constantly bouncing ideas off one another, lending a hand when a deadline is tight, and celebrating together when a particularly challenging piece is finally finished to perfection. When you get a piece from us, you’re getting a little bit of all of us.
Ever wonder how a piece actually comes into being? It’s quite the adventure, a process that begins not in our workshop, but with you. It starts with your story. Every time an order comes through, there’s a genuine buzz of excitement. We gather round and read the personalisation requests. A new baby’s name. The coordinates of a proposal. A silly nickname that makes us smile. A line from a poem that clearly means the world to someone. This isn’t just data to us. It’s the heart of the piece. It’s the ‘why’. It’s an honour to be trusted with these small, precious parts of people’s lives. This is what fuels us. Once we have the story, the design process begins. We don’t just randomly place the text. We consider the shape of the piece, the flow of the letters, the overall balance of the design. A little sketch is made, a blueprint for the creation to come. It’s a moment of translation, turning an emotion into a physical plan. Next, we select the materials. And we are complete fanatics about our materials. We don’t just get our metal from anywhere. We have built relationships with our suppliers. We know their practices. We are incredibly proud to work exclusively with recycled precious metals. There’s something deeply satisfying about knowing that the silver in a brand new necklace might have had a past life as a Victorian spoon or a 1920s cigarette case. It adds another layer to the story. When a new delivery of gleaming, recycled silver sheet arrives, it’s like a box of blank canvases, full of nothing but potential. Now the real work starts. The metal is cut to shape, not by a machine press, but by hand with a fine-toothed saw. The sound of the blade working its way through the silver is one of the signature sounds of the workshop. This hand-cutting means that no two pieces are ever truly identical. They have their own subtle character. The edges are then meticulously filed and sanded, a process that takes far longer than most people would imagine. It’s this dedication to finishing that makes all the difference. Every edge must be perfectly smooth, a delight to touch. If different parts need to be joined, it’s time for the alchemy of soldering. This is where we use a flame to join metal, a process that requires absolute focus. The world shrinks down to the tip of the flame and the seam of the join. A perfect solder flow is a moment of quiet, fist-pumping victory. After a quick bath in a pickling solution to clean off the heat marks, the piece moves on. If a stone is being added, it’s now time for it to be set. Our stone-setter will have already chosen the perfect gem, and now they carefully prepare its seat, carving a tiny ledge for it to rest on. Then, with a series of precise, gentle pushes, the metal bezel is eased over the stone, locking it securely in place. It’s a marvel of small-scale engineering. Then comes the engraving, the moment the piece is truly personalised. Our engraver takes the almost-finished object and carves the story into its surface, a final, transformative act. And then, the grand finale: the polishing. This is the most dramatic transformation. A piece that looks scratched and dull from the creation process is taken to the polishing motor. Using a series of different wheels and compounds, from abrasive to buttery-soft, the true lustre of the metal is revealed. The deep, liquid shine emerges, and the piece suddenly comes to life. It’s the ‘wow’ moment. We all gather round to inspect it, to admire it, to give it a final quality check. After a last clean in an ultrasonic bath, it’s finally ready. It has completed its journey from a story, through fire and skilled hands, to a gleaming, tangible memory, ready to continue its adventure with you.
The word ‘handmade’ is used a lot these days. For us, it’s not a marketing term. It’s our entire philosophy. It’s the core of what we do. It means that your piece wasn’t one of ten thousand identical items spat out by a machine. It means that real people, with names and favourite biscuits and stories of their own, held your piece of jewellery in their hands. They spent time with it. They poured their skill, their focus, and a genuine piece of their affection into it. Handmade means that if you look closely, really closely, you won’t find the cold, sterile perfection of a machine. You’ll find life. You might see the faintest trace of a file mark, polished to a brilliant shine. You might feel a subtle, organic quality to a curve that could only be achieved by hand and eye. The letters of an engraving will have a microscopic uniqueness that a laser can never replicate. These are not imperfections. They are the opposite. They are the quiet, honest signatures of the human hands that made them. They are the fingerprints of passion. They are the proof that your piece is not just another object in the world. It is a one-of-a-kind creation, made with care, just for you. A machine can produce a perfect object. But only human hands can create something with a soul.
