“Nowhere to Wear This” and other Goldsmiths’ Hall classics during the traditional annual Fair
The Goldsmiths’ Company – one of Britain’s oldest livery companies – holds its traditional exhibition at Goldsmiths’ Hall every late September, bringing together independent jewellers working across the UK to present their work.
This year the Goldsmiths’ Company marks its 700th anniversary. The fair itself turns 45. This edition offers the chance to see (and, crucially, to buy) the work of 138 British jewellers and jewellery designers – the first half from 22nd to 27th of September, the second from 28th September to 4th of October. The opportunity to buy directly from jewellers who are not represented by galleries, shops or marketplaces, whose only means of self-presentation are their own website and social media – that is one of the fair’s principal aims and social missions. Ticket sales and stand fees (yes, despite a rigorous selection process, exhibitors pay for their stands too) do not cover the cost of running the event — which makes it, in effect, a pure social initiative by the Goldsmiths’ Company.
Why should any of this interest you? On the one hand, there’s no reason. These are highly individual, at times bewildering pieces that cost more than what you’ll find at the big brands and the high street alike. Many are hard to picture in everyday life. “I’d have nowhere to wear this” is the most common reaction at half the stands.
On the other hand, the people exhibiting here are devotees in the truest sense. The barrier to entry in the jewellery industry for a niche designer-jeweller is extraordinarily high. And it’s not just the cost of materials. It’s the sheer number of hours spent learning to do what they do. Despite a quarter of a century of the jewellery world fighting for its place among the “fine arts,” fighting not to be valued solely by the price of its materials — one cannot ignore the fact that gold, silver and precious stones keep rising in price. And that’s before you factor in the cost of tools and the time (and money) spent acquiring the skills.
One of the most striking young British jewellers, Joy BC (Joy Bonfield-Colombara), tells the story of her apprenticeship with a Japanese jeweller that lasted nine months: he spoke no English, she spoke no Japanese. But for nine months, six days a week, she came to his workshop and stood beside him for eight hours a day, simply repeating what he did. Because she wanted to learn. And she certainly did not do it so that one day a client could tell her: “Well, there’s so much gold in your pieces, if I ever get tired of them, I’ll just melt them down.”
Which of the 70 designers each week to look at is an entirely personal matter. Recommending anyone – even those singled out by the distinguished jury of professionals – is a thankless task. For one thing, professionals look at and assess work on entirely different criteria from ordinary people outside the industry. For another, jewellery is always a private conversation between you and the object. There can be no judgement other than “I personally like this, this piece speaks to me, it touches something in me.” From a functional (and even an investment) standpoint, jewellery is the most useless object there is. A jewel is pure communication – with the world and with yourself. And if that’s the case, who else can possibly tell you what suits you and what doesn’t?
Photo courtesy of Goldsmiths’ Fair














