They may have a sparkling reputation as a girl’s best friend, but what do the precious gems mean to the more mature woman? Kathryn Flett discovers whether diamonds are indeed forever
iven that diamonds are my ‘birthstone’, how I’ve arrived at middle age replete with kids and a mortgage yet entirely bereſt of tiaras is, frankly, baffl ing. Maybe an April 1st birthday meant that, instead of a ‘Downton’ life accessorised by chunks of twinkly carbon, I was always destined to be a cubic zirconia-from-Accessorize kinda
girl. Galling, really, because as a child I was blasé about bling: my mother bought and sold antique diamond jewellery for a living. Oh, who am I kidding? No woman is ever blasé about diamonds,
and while tiara-less I may be, I’ve owned a few twinkly things in my time. Tiny twinkly things, I grant you – but who’s complaining? My fi rst arrived when my late paternal grandmother leſt me her
engagement ring – a teeny-tiny sparkler surrounded by teeny- tinier chips and much loved for sentimental reasons, if rarely worn. The second appeared in the mid-1980s, when my then- fi ancé and I shopped for a (teeny-tiny) diamond ring in Hatton Garden. I still have it, though given we broke up before we ever married, wearing it now feels a bit wrong. A decade later I was engaged again (yay!) and given a Cartier diamond ring. However, when my husband ran off with someone else, that diamond (and its wedding-band sibling) were removed pretty damn fast. Months later, I went on safari to Botswana, carrying the rings,
and intending to somehow dispose of these small pieces of emotional baggage – and over a well-lubricated campfi re dinner our group hatched a plan. The following day we rode into the bush, hooked the rings to a tree stump and our group leader took aim with an elephant rifl e. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust… and chunks of carbon and gold were returned to the African ground from which they may very well have emerged in the fi rst place. It was immensely satisfying – I only wish I had fi red the shot myself. Thus far, then, my carbon-dating track record isn’t great, though
there’s still time to turn it around, most likely via my (imminent) EuroMillions win. And while this enormous windfall (coming soon – maybe even next week) is likely to test the boundaries of a few of my relationships, fi ngers crossed that buying one’s own diamonds ensures I’ll get to keep at least some ‘best friends’.
‘What’s my shiniest well-kept secret? Well, the south coast town where I live, ‘Random-on-Sea’, has more hours of sunshine per year than anywhere else in the country. Now that’s what I call shiny…’
GEM WARFARE Kanye West raps about them and Leonardo DiCaprio starred in a fi lm about them, but blood diamonds, so-called because their profi ts fund civil confl ict, are thoroughly uncool. Thankfully, it’s possible to choose diamonds with certifi cates that show stones are ethically sourced. For guilt-free gems, look to CRED, a UK-based pioneer in fair-trade jewellery. credjewellery.com
‘We rode into the bush, hooked the rings to a tree stump and took aim with an elephant rifl e. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust... immensely satisfying’
> Guardian columnist Kathryn Flett’s fi rst novel, Separate Lives (Quercus, £7.99), is published in July <