Finally come cut and finish, which are largely responsible for the fire, brilliancy and scintillation of a diamond. Here the graders are mainly checking for symmetry.
Training to become a grader takes approximately six months, including theory, hands-on experience and examinations. Looking around the lab, I’m surprised to see that the 160 or so graders are not only young, but also predominantly female.
This is by no means the case at the diamond bourse, or exchange, which I visit the same morning. It’s located a little way down the street from the AWDC. Antwerp is by no means insulated from the vagaries of the global economy, and at the time of my visit delocalization and the downturn had combined to rob the city of its glitter. The level of demand for diamonds had taken an abrupt dip. On this weekday morning, the exchange had a Sunday afternoon calm.
A wide, high-ceilinged room with bench-like tables and massive north-facing windows that let in plenty of Flemish light, the bourse resembles an old-fashioned coffee house in a Central European city. But instead of sipping espressos and tucking into pastries, the sombre black-clad figures hunched around the tables are poking with their index fingers at scatters of gemstones. Diamond trading is a profession handed down from father to son; some of these men may be the descendants of the original Jewish settlers who arrived in the early 1900s. Others may be representatives of the influential Mehta family, which has diamond businesses all over the world. Occasionally one of them holds a diamond up to the light and squints at it through a loupe. I can now see that those block-like black briefcases are stuffed with folds of paper, each of which contains a spill of diamonds.
It occurs to me that one of these little stones might easily roll off the table and onto the floor. What happens if you lose a diamond? A notice board on the wall of the bourse answers my question: several dealers are advertising lost and found diamonds. Indeed, it would be hard to steal a diamond from here. Each gem has a certificate and a unique identity. Even if you got one out of the building, you’d have to sell it. But as every dealer in Antwerp is a member of what amounts to an exclusive cabal, outsiders bearing stones are treated with suspicion. And anybody found engaging in underhand deals is immediately blackballed from every bourse on the planet. Photos of blacklisted dealers are also displayed prominently on the notice board.
Antwerp, then, considers itself a watchword for honesty as well as quality. But a few years ago, its name was tainted by two words that threatened to undermine the reputation of the entire industry: conflict diamonds.
My own scant knowledge of conflict diamonds comes from the odd newspaper article and the 2006 movie Blood Diamond, starring Leonardo DiCaprio. No doubt, I remark to Philip Claes, the controversy was highly exaggerated.
‘Actually, no,’ he says. ‘The film is reasonably accurate. The issue first surfaced in around 1997, when we became aware through the NGOs that there was a problem in a number of African countries, notably Angola and the Democratic Republic of Congo, where rebel fighters were trading diamonds for weapons.’
Antwerp was heavily criticized by the United Nations for its role in the conflict diamond trade. The Fowler Report – named after Robert Fowler, Canada’s ambassador to the United Nations – suggested in March 2000 that diamonds acquired from UNITA (the Angolan independence movement) in exchange for arms had ended up in the city.
‘We were shocked,’ says Claes, ‘because we had – and we still have – the best-regulated system in the world. We in Antwerp took the first step in what later became an industry-wide process, by developing a certification process that required the monitoring of diamonds to ensure they were not used to fuel conflicts. Diamonds from Africa could not be traded in Antwerp unless they were certified conflict-free.’
As the controversy grew, the diamond industry realized it needed to act in order to reassure consumers and save its reputation. ‘We did not want to find ourselves in the same position as the fur trade’, Claes admits. ‘A diamond is supposed to be something pure: a symbol of love. We did not want it to come to stand for corruption and bloodshed.’
In May 2000, encouraged by the United Nations, the representatives of the leading diamond producing states met in Kimberley, South Africa, to discuss ways of stopping the trade in conflict diamonds. This led to the adoption in 2002 of the Kimberley Process Certification Scheme, based on the system pioneered in Antwerp. Known as The Kimberley Process, the system is open to any country willing to implement its requirements. As of September 2007, this covered 74 countries responsible for 99.8 per cent of global diamond production (www.kimberleyprocess.com). Among the requirements, diamonds from legitimate mines must be monitored at every stage along the pipeline and transported in tamper-proof containers, along with a Kimberley Process certificate. Today, only Kimberley Process members are allowed to trade rough diamonds, thus locking out non-compliant countries. Certificates are closely studied in Antwerp to ensure that they are genuine, that the relevant authority has signed them and that the diamond in the accompanying package matches the description. In this way it is estimated that the number of conflict diamonds on the open market has been reduced to 0.2 per cent.
‘The system is effective,’ says Claes. ‘Does that mean it’s no longer possible to smuggle conflict diamonds? No, of course not: no system can be 100 per cent watertight. And by the way, other commodities have been abused in Africa: especially an ore known as coltan [columbite-tantalite], which is one of the elements used in cell phones. Nobody ever mentioned “blood mobiles”. Such is the glamour of diamonds.’
Polishing the Antwerp brand is not just about battling controversy and market fluctuations. The AWDC also gets involved in more traditional marketing techniques. For instance, it runs conferences at which industry leaders gather to discuss the issues of the day. It also organizes a biennial diamond jewellery design competition that attracts hundreds of entries from across the globe. It has stands called ‘diamond pavilions’ at trade shows. It prints a quarterly trade magazine called Antwerp Facets. And it organizes backstage tours and lectures, while regular exhibitions of exotic jewellery keep it in the mainstream media. In short, over more than 35 years the Antwerp World Diamond Centre has painstakingly positioned itself as Europe’s leading diamond authority – and the city as the focal point of the industry.
So what happens to the diamonds when they leave Antwerp?
DIAMONDS BY DESIGN
Place Vendôme is a distillation of the notions that bring thousands of tourists a year to Paris: architectural beauty, history, elegance and sophistication. Dominated by the Ritz hotel, the extravagantly vast square is lined with jewellery boutiques. It owes its symmetry to the architect Jules Hardouin-Mansart, who designed its grand facades at the beginning of the 18th century to mask the homes of powerful banking families. At its centre is the Vendôme Column: erected in 1810 by Napoleon, torn down by the Communards – inspired by a later regretful Gustave Courbet – during the insurrection of 1871, and replaced again three years later at the artist’s expense. Today the bronze column’s greenish reflection wavers in the tinted windows of passing black limousines; middle-aged women in Hermès scarves traverse its shadow while walking their tiny dogs.
The jewellers arrived in the 19th century, led by Frédéric Boucheron in 1893. Formerly based near the Palais Royal, Boucheron had noted the construction of Garnier’s new opera house near the Place Vendôme and shrewdly surmised that the quarter was about to become deeply fashionable. He opened his boutique in 1893. Cartier and Chaumet followed. Place Vendôme has been a magnet for luxury brands ever since: its octagonal shape inspired the design of Chanel’s first wristwatch.
The jewellery designer Lorenz Bäumer’s salons offer a stunning view of the square. Bäumer himself finds the place constantly inspiring: he collects photographs from different points in its history. ‘It is a theatre where Parisian life is played out,’ he says. ‘It has become the showcase for Parisian luxury.’
Bäumer is an ideal subject for this book because his approa
ch represents many of the facets of genuine luxury. Still in his early 40s, he has built up a respected if somewhat insider brand. In addition, he was for some time Chanel’s unofficial jewellery designer. At the time of our meeting, he has just been commissioned to design a line of jewellery for Louis Vuitton. But in a sector that has become domin-ated by a handful of global brands, Bäumer is still something of a rough diamond: an independent free spirit. Although he is based on Place Vendôme, he does not have a shop window. His salons – three comfortable meeting rooms, in which only a few items of jewellery are displayed – are accessible via elevator, by appointment only. He does not advertise. His clients find him by word of mouth, and he keeps them by offering a discreet personal service. They occasionally stop by to sip tea and nibble macaroons while he offers them a glimpse of his latest creations. He is a combination of haute couturier, engineer, artisan and entrepreneur.
The son of a German diplomat and a French beauty who worked in ‘many different creative fields, from couture to interiors’, Bäumer was born in Washington, DC. In fact he could have been born almost any-where, as his father’s career took the family meandering around the globe. Having attended a series of French schools, he arrived in Paris to take his baccalaureate exam. After that, he studied engineering at the école des Arts et Manufactures. This was by no means out of synch with his vocation. ‘I specialized in innovation, design and production,’ he explains. ‘It’s based on the life cycle of a product, from the seed of the idea to the sale. So in fact I’m doing exactly what I was trained to do.’
Bäumer has always loved making things. As a child, the young Lorenz would conjure his own toys out of odds and ends. He was forever painting and doodling. He had a knack for creating sparkly trinkets. ‘I made jewellery with champagne corks and pieces of aluminium foil scavenged from the kitchen. I could feel a magic force in these pieces.’
Later, after graduating, he began creating costume jewellery under the brand name LORENZ. ‘It was a great way of starting because I could express myself creatively without spending a fortune on materials. I always say that a jewellery designer needs three things: talent, time and capital. But even without the latter, costume jewellery enabled me to indulge in what was for me the ultimate in creativity. It was fairly easy to get hold of cut crystal, gilded metal and coloured stones.’
He taught himself, sculpting delicate wax models and liaising with casters and gilders to transform them into exotic pieces; he still recalls with affection the large animal brooches studded with multicoloured stones. In 1992 – four years after starting his business – Bäumer stepped onto the higher plane of fine jewellery at the request of a client. The piece was a deceptively simple swirl of gold around a diamond. Once he had entered this new world, he was determined to stay. ‘Fine jewellery is unique. There’s an emotional and sentimental resonance that few other products possess. A potential client might come here having bought a few items of clothing from the latest collection at Chanel. But they might hesitate before spending exactly the same amount on a piece of jewellery, because they want to think about it, ask their husband and so forth. It should be an easy decision, because an item of jewellery will last much longer than a dress. Yet there’s such an emotional investment in jewellery that purchasing it feels important and significant. And here, in my view, you’re touching on one of the real components of luxury – which is the experience.’
That’s also why Bäumer sets such store by personal service. ‘When you come to my salon, you are talking to the person who designed your jewellery, one to one. Not only that, but you can commission him to make something exclusively for you. And the end result will be with you for the rest of your life. That is something truly valuable. It’s what distinguishes jewellery from other sectors of the luxury industry. For me, fine jewellery combines creativity, value and attention to detail in a way that eclipses even the most complex piece of haute couture.’
It also explains why fashion brands such as Chanel, Dior and Vuitton have entered the jewellery business over the last couple of decades. ‘When fake branded T-shirts from Asia threaten to undermine their image, having a jewellery collection is an ideal way of reinforcing their premium positioning.’
Ironically, Bäumer’s clients expect his designs to be both fashionable and timeless. ‘They will wear the pieces now, with the fashions of today. Yet at the same time, a piece of jewellery is something passed on from generation to generation, so it can’t follow current trends too closely. It’s a problem unique to the sector and a balancing act that every jewellery designer must perform.’
Bäumer often thinks of himself as a performer. For instance, he says that he plays the role of ‘the conductor of an orchestra’ with the eight people in his atelier and various external workers. He invites me on a little tour of the ‘backstage’ behind his salons. And here are the young employees in their open plan office, studying beautifully detailed jewellery designs – as neat and precise as architectural plans – or revolving 3D models of them on computer screens. Bäumer designs his jewellery on paper, by hand – but it is adjusted and perfected on screen.
‘Everything begins with the drawing,’ says Bäumer. ‘I work spontaneously. I find that if I analyse an idea too much I lose the thread. I use a small pad of paper, a pencil, and 15 or so felt-tipped pens in various colours. I draw the piece from several angles, because I need to explain the design to the team and to the client.’
Next the sketches arrive in the atelier, where technically precise images are created. ‘We’re in the 21st century and, in my profession as in others, information technology has revolutionized the way of working. The computer is a phenomenal tool. I can design a virtual piece of jewellery, turn it in space, instantly change the stones, the colour of the gold and so on.’
Once a virtual piece of jewellery has been created, a model-maker must transform it into a physical prototype. The models are usually sculpted in wax. After that, a caster transforms the wax into metal, using the traditional ‘lost wax’ method, which is said to date back as far as the ancient Egyptians. The wax model is encased in liquid rubber, which sets and is then carefully removed from the original model. Molten wax is injected into the cavity. After it has hardened, the new wax model is removed from the rubber mould. This wax form is covered in plaster of Paris and fired. The heat melts the wax, which trickles away through a tiny hole – hence the word ‘lost’. Inside the hollow plaster mould, every detail of the design is perfectly replicated in negative. Molten silver (or gold) is poured in and allowed to cool. Finally, the plaster cocoon is broken open to reveal the newborn casting.
After that, the jeweller refines the piece: filing and polishing, even cutting with a laser. The stones are sourced from a handful of diamantaires dotted around Paris: many of them are located in the 9th arrondissement, a swift motorcycle courier’s ride away from Place Vendôme. Diamonds that may have been bought in Antwerp will be cut and polished to order by these artisans, who work in unglamorous ateliers with barred windows, diamond dust settling imperceptibly on benches and shelves. ‘A mere stone becomes a jewel in the hands of an expert cutter,’ stresses Bäumer. In his studio, I’m shown the silver casting of a ring and the tiny diamonds that will be set into it. Setting is another skill, performed by yet another artisan. The tiny strands of metal that will hold the stones in place must be invisible to the naked eye.
Once the stones are set, the piece is polished once again. Then, finally, an engraver adds Bäumer’s signature. ‘Just as I explained,’ he concludes, ‘it’s like an orchestra. If all the sections perform well, the final result makes everyone proud.’
Bäumer is deeply proud of his métier, which he clearly considers nobler than others within the luxury industry. ‘You don’t keep an item of clothing for years because it reminds you of your 20th wedding anniversary. And while some people might consider a car a romantic gift, I’m not sure it has the same impact as a piece of jewellery.’
He certainly agrees with one of the
basic tenets of luxury marketing, which is that the products must not be easily available. ‘Partly by necessity and partly by choice, I don’t have and will never have a chain of boutiques. When I want to sell my products in New York or Los Angeles, I discreetly let my regular clients know that I will be in town for two or three days, so they can make an appointment with me. “Pop-up stores” are quite popular in the retail industry – the idea of opening a store for a limited time period in order to create demand – but my approach is even more ephemeral.’
As we’ve seen, the high cost of entry makes creating a jewellery brand a long and delicate business, especially for independent designers. But some have an almost unconscious grasp of the insubstantial elements that will make potential clients hunger for their creations. Who could resist, for instance, the story of a Frenchwoman who fell in love with the precious stones of Jaipur?
A TALE OF TWO CITIES
There is no doubt that Marie Hélène de Taillac makes gorgeous jewellery. It’s there for everyone to see, in her wholly contemporary Saint Germain boutique. Although she occasionally uses diamonds, Taillac (the ‘de’ is dropped in correct French usage) has a predilection for coloured gemstones. But these supremely delicate drops of light become even more alluring when she tells the tale behind them. Which is, of course, why she tells it so well.
First, though, it’s necessary to underline Taillac’s importance to the jewellery sector. In 1996, when she launched her first collection, the world of high-end jewellery was distinctly stodgy. ‘First there were the staid, overly decorated and uncomfortable stores you needed to navigate to buy jewellery. Then, there was always the feeling that the jewellery itself made you look like an ancestral portrait and somehow, never seemed to work either with jeans or with contemporary designer clothes.’
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