It was fuelled by dreams of other places. It started with a book my father gave me as a child. It was called “La petite fille des mers du Sud” (The Little Girl from the South Seas) and it took me on a journey from my bedroom, listening and understanding, imagining other possibilities. Many years later, it was a jade object found in the Taklamakan desert, given to me by the man I loved, and which I still wear as a pendant like a talisman. Then a trip to the Fayoum, where I contemplated thousands of fragments of pottery emerging from the sands. A Roman intaglio, bought at Drouot, around which I designed a Renaissance-inspired ring. And a number of ornaments that I wore, gris-gris, heavy ethnic jewellery, transformed objects. All evoking a moment or eternity, a being or a civilisation.

But it took many twists and turns in life for me to get the idea of making a living out of it, and to dare to embark on the adventure.

I started by going back to school to expand my knowledge of art history. Then I took a course at the Ecole Boulle, where I had to admit that technique wasn’t my strong point and that it would be better to leave it to an artisan jeweller. On the other hand, finding rare and sometimes exceptional pieces is a real pleasure. Imagining what they would become, designing them, transcending them, too.

Today, I make thirty to forty pieces of jewellery every year. Pieces from old European collections, which I find in auction rooms and whose authenticity is proven. Each piece of jewellery is made by hand, using traditional techniques, with the imperative of preserving the integrity of the piece and enhancing its beauty.