THE stone that, in 1769, Franz Michael Diespach set among cascades of brilliant-cut diamonds for Frederick Augustus III of Saxony was the largest, most beautiful green diamond in the world: the 41-carat Dresden Green. The elector wore the glittering brooch in his hat.
Brooches have glamour. They are visible and conspicuous, as became clear in the recent response to the spider-shaped brooch worn by a black-clad Baroness Hale the day she delivered the Supreme Court’s verdict on parliamentary prorogation. Within 48 hours of Lady Hale’s verdict, a fashion-data website reported more than 400 online articles and social-media posts about it. Inevitably, the fashion fraternity hailed the return of the brooch.
Well, up to a point, Lord Copper—as Mr Salter invariably responds to his formidable employer in Evelyn Waugh’s Scoop when his agreement is anything but wholehearted. For a handful of prominent women—The Queen, Queen Margrethe of Denmark and former US Secretary of State Madeleine Albright—the brooch never disappeared. For many other women, brooches play little or no part in their wardrobe. Once a staple, they are associated with a more formal style of dress and, undeniably, with former generations, a grandmotherly accessory. In the second decade of the 21st century, the number of ruling princes sporting jewelled hat badges has reached an all-time low.
Reactions to Lady Hale’s sparkly spider— more Hogwarts than court ball—suggest that the time has come to think again. ‘When things are thought fubsy and old-fashioned is the very moment when fashions change,’ explains doyen of jewellery experts Geoffrey Munn. ‘Once out, the brooch now has the opportunity to be very much in.’
Denne historien er fra January 08, 2020-utgaven av Country Life UK.
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Denne historien er fra January 08, 2020-utgaven av Country Life UK.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
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Save our family farms
IT Tremains to be seen whether the Government will listen to the more than 20,000 farming people who thronged Whitehall in central London on November 19 to protest against changes to inheritance tax that could destroy countless family farms, but the impact of the good-hearted, sombre crowds was immediate and positive.
A very good dog
THE Spanish Pointer (1766–68) by Stubbs, a landmark painting in that it is the artist’s first depiction of a dog, has only been exhibited once in the 250 years since it was painted.
The great astral sneeze
Aurora Borealis, linked to celestial reindeer, firefoxes and assassinations, is one of Nature's most mesmerising, if fickle displays and has made headlines this year. Harry Pearson finds out why
'What a good boy am I'
We think of them as the stuff of childhood, but nursery rhymes such as Little Jack Horner tell tales of decidedly adult carryings-on, discovers Ian Morton
Forever a chorister
The music-and way of living-of the cabaret performer Kit Hesketh-Harvey was rooted in his upbringing as a cathedral chorister, as his sister, Sarah Sands, discovered after his death
Best of British
In this collection of short (5,000-6,000-word) pen portraits, writes the author, 'I wanted to present a number of \"Great British Commanders\" as individuals; not because I am a devotee of the \"great man, or woman, school of history\", but simply because the task is interesting.' It is, and so are Michael Clarke's choices.
Old habits die hard
Once an antique dealer, always an antique dealer, even well into retirement age, as a crop of interesting sales past and future proves
It takes the biscuit
Biscuit tins, with their whimsical shapes and delightful motifs, spark nostalgic memories of grandmother's sweet tea, but they are a remarkably recent invention. Matthew Dennison pays tribute to the ingenious Victorians who devised them
It's always darkest before the dawn
After witnessing a particularly lacklustre and insipid dawn on a leaden November day, John Lewis-Stempel takes solace in the fleeting appearance of a rare black fox and a kestrel in hot pursuit of a pipistrelle bat
Tarrying in the mulberry shade
On a visit to the Gainsborough Museum in Sudbury, Suffolk, in August, I lost my husband for half an hour and began to get nervous. Fortunately, an attendant had spotted him vanishing under the cloak of the old mulberry tree in the garden.
