The First Time I Felt Like My Work Actually Meant Something

I spent years in fine jewellery. Gemstone setting, mostly — agate, mother of pearl, the kind of materials that reward patience. I loved working with them. What I didn't love was the way it worked.

In that world, you follow the design brief. A lead designer hands you a drawing and you execute it — precisely, without much say. And most of the time, that's fine. But there were moments where I'd be working on a piece and think, this could be better. A different setting angle, a different way of letting the material breathe. Small things, but things I genuinely believed in. The answer was almost always no. Not because my idea was wrong, just because that wasn't how it worked. You're there to execute, not to design.

When a friend sent me a link to PickandCase, I wasn't looking for anything. But I spent a while on the site and something about it stopped me.

Every piece is made for one specific person. Not a customer segment, not a demographic — one person, who placed one order, and is waiting for the thing that will be made only for them. That idea felt deeply familiar to me. In fine jewellery at its best, that's exactly what you're doing — you're making something that will belong to one person, that carries their story. It's just that somewhere along the way, the industry had drifted from that. PickandCase hadn't.

I reached out to Oakley. We talked. And at some point he asked me what materials I was most comfortable with.

I said agate and mother of pearl.

He said: bring them.

That was it, really. Not a long negotiation, not a lengthy process. He just made room for what I already knew how to do — and trusted that it belonged here. The mother of pearl picks came out of that conversation. So did the Keepsake pendants, where I set abalone into something meant to be worn. These weren't pieces I was handed a drawing for. They're pieces I made because someone believed they had a place.

There are more series coming — all made by my hands, all working with materials I know well. I'm still figuring out what else this place can hold.

But I know why I'm here.