March 2025
There’s a Cartier exhibition at the V and A. I’ve been repeatedly. When I return home from it I wonder why I don’t have more diamonds. Those I have are so well hidden from potential robbers as to be virtually, although not actually, lost.
Where I wonder is my tiara? The tiara I’ve never had but should have had. It is clear after visiting the tiara room that there is a tiara to suit everyone.
GorJus upset my expectations on our first visit. When faced with large diamond brooches in the shape of bows, she wanted to know why there weren’t two? why weren’t they earrings? After that I too have a sensation of light disappointment every time I see these spectacular pieces.
We rewatched Gentlemen Prefer Blondes with more sympathy for Marilyn than usual.
A few days ago wandering down Bond Street I passed the Harry Winston jewellery shop. I hadn’t realised there was such a person. Who did I think the Harry Winston was that Lorelei had wanted to talk to her while singing about diamonds being a girls best friend?
Harry Winston the American jeweller who had set the standard for the ultimate in fine diamond jewellery since 1932. that’s who. Apologies for my ignorance Harry.
Post script:
By my last visit I was finding it all a bit much. If you take time to stop looking at the sparkle, artistry and craftsmanship, questions of ethics, workers rights, the morality of extreme extravagance and the diamond trade creep in.
I’d still like a tiara or diamond bracelet or both.
fat tart 