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Styles: All That Glitters

4 minute read
TIME

At the turn of the century, European taste makers found themselves caught up in the snaky tendrils of a self-conscious style called art nouveau. Not only candlesticks and furniture, but whole buildings were designed to flow with floral grace. From the Paris Métro stations of Hector Guimard to the décor of Maxim’s, symmetry was out, organic flow was in, and nothing from the insect or aquatic world was too exotic. La Belle Époque lasted little more than a couple of decades (1880-1905), but in that brief span produced a series of small masterpieces, none more dazzling than its high-style jewelry (see color).

In a sense, Belle Époque jewelers were reacting against the Second Empire’s exclusive concentration on massive, brilliantly cut diamonds, which followed the opening up of the African diamond fields. Seeking color and form rather than carats, jewelers reintroduced the beauty of semiprecious stones, particularly the shimmering opal, and outdid one another with bizarre settings. In place of the perfect jewel, the flawed gem was exploited, the odd-shaped pearl stressed for its singularity and enamels and glass were often preferred to gold. It took courage to wear these creations; it took, in fact, a new kind of woman. The intrepid Sarah Bernhardt, with her loose-flowing hair and cameo beauty, filled the bill.

Diamonds for Tears. The toast of tout Paris, Sarah accepted a diamond brooch from Alfonso XII of Spain, a necklace from Emperor Franz Josef, a fan from King Umberto of Italy, wore them all with élan. One admirer even ordered her a bicycle from Tiffany’s studded with diamonds and rubies. Victor Hugo, after Sarah’s performance in his play Hernani, wrote: “I wept. That tear … is yours.” He enclosed a tear-shaped diamond.

Hugo could not know that, for all their sentiment, Sarah found diamonds a mite conventional. Her taste tended to more sensuous things—she could not resist the sinuous ruby-eyed snake bracelet and ring designed by Art Nouveau Painter Alphonse Mucha and crafted by Jewelsmith Georges Fouquet for her première in Cleopatra, went in hock (she was frequently broke, though her earnings topped $9,000,000) for about $2,000 to have it. To make sure she paid, Fouquet turned up at the theater box office regularly each week to collect his share of the receipts.

Loans for Ladies. Greatest of all the Belle Époque jewelers, and Bernhardt’s longtime favorite, was René Lalique, who, like today’s haut couturiers, designed jewels to suit the individual’s personality. While working for Chez de Stape, then Paris’ leading fashion jeweler, Lalique began experimenting with enamels, transforming glass with oxides in his own kitchen. In mounting stones, he turned from semiprecious tortoise shell to ordinary horn because he found the color of tortoise too irregular. The innovation was an immediate success; overnight, horn became a luxury in Paris.

Soon Lalique was mixing precious, semiprecious and common materials: opal with horn, pearl with enamel, ivory with glass, and Parisians were scrambling to buy them. Among his discoverers was oil-rich Calouste Gulbenkian, who first saw Lalique’s work in the 1895 Salon du Champ de Mars. Not generally interested in jewelry, Gulbenkian was fascinated by Lalique’s bold fantasy and wide range of materials, became an enthusiastic collector. He was also one of the canniest; he had no hesitation about letting his jewels be worn by rare ladies, like Sarah Bernhardt, who could do them justice, but he insisted they be returned to the glass display case he kept in his Paris apartment. As a result, his collection of 146 Lalique masterpieces (opposite) remained intact, and this week will go on display at Lisbon’s Pombal Palace—a tribute to an unusual collection of one of art’s most adventuresome styles.

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