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Jewellery can mean many things to many people. Take engagement rings — much more than the value of their constituent parts, they become imbued with emotional weight too. This one stands out, however, because its significance stretches far beyond a couple.

It would come to symbolise the choice between love and duty, a decision that would change the course of history for an entire country. I've long been fascinated by antique jewels for their power to bring history to life.

The many chapters of an individual gem can shed light on not only those who owned it, but also those who sourced it and fashioned it into a wearable work of art. In the case of this ring, it all started in the 1930s when Jacques Cartier sent a trusted salesman to Baghdad to buy gems.

On his arrival, the salesman was informed that the gem sale had to be conducted secretly — he was forbidden to telegraph any details back to London except that he needed more money. Trusting his employee, Jacques had it wired over without delay. For such a large price, he supposed, Cartier would be acquiring an enormous number of precious gems.

But when his salesman returned, he only had a small pouch. Out of it, he produced an emerald the size of a bird's egg. As a gemstone expert, Jacques marvelled at the chance to hold an emerald so magnificent it had belonged to the Great Mughal. Yet as a businessman, he was dismayed.

Before the Russian Revolution, Cartier would have had no problem finding buyers for such a gem. But the 1930s was a different era. The only option was to cut the emerald in two. Though it pained Jacques to do so, he had to think of the business. One polished half was sold to an American millionaire.

The other (19.77 cts) was chosen by the King as the centrepiece for a platinum engagement ring for Wallis Simpson. Traditionally, emeralds are not used for engagement rings — compared to diamonds, the stone is soft and can scratch easily.

But Edward VIII wasn't interested in tradition. Half a century later, this ring was sold at Sotheby's (in its 1950s gold and diamond setting) for $1.9m. How much of the value lies in the stories it tells?

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Really fun to see my article in British Vogue — 'The Story Behind The Royal Family's Enduring Love Affair With Cartier' — complete with wonderfully evocative images of the royal family wearing Cartier jewels through the decades, including this one of the Queen and the Duchess of Cambridge in the fabulous Hyderabad diamond necklace.

My thanks to Rachel Garrahan, Jewellery and Watch Director at British Vogue, for asking me to write this piece on the back of the online royal jewels lectures I've been giving with Caroline de Guitaut.

Further reading: 'The Story Behind The Royal Family's Enduring Love Affair With Cartier' — British Vogue (February 2021) · 'Cartier and Royalty' — Royal Collection Trust · 'Cartier: Style and History' — Grand Palais exhibition catalogue (2013) · Noble Jewels from the Collection of Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Windsor — Sotheby's Geneva (1987)

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There’s been a lot of excitement about vintage Cartier watches lately. Of course, vintage is not always a v. precise term: in Cartier’s case, it spans over 100 years (the first wristwatches for men were produced right at the start of the 20th century). Which is why I was so intrigued to see this particularly early example come up @fellowsauctions this week: a tonneau sold in London in Oct 1914, when my great-grandfather, Jacques Cartier, ran the 175 New Bond Street branch.

The #tonneau (translates as ‘barrel’) was one of Cartier’s earliest ever models, first created in 1906. That’s a year before Cartier signed a contract with watchmaker #EdmondJaeger (promising him annual orders equivalent to $1m today) and over a decade before the creation of the iconic Tank. Interestingly this watch doesn’t have a sapphire winder but, even at this very early stage, it shares the same numbering quirk on the dial that continues to this day, where the roman numeral ‘IV’ is replaced with the ‘IIII’; an important detail for the symmetry-loving Cartiers as it ensured a better balance with the ‘VIII’.

This watch would have been made under Louis Cartier in Paris and shipped across the Channel for sale in the London showroom (#CartierLondon didn’t have its own workshop until the 1920s). It was then gifted to a Scottish Captain going off to fight at the Western Front with his Highland regiment in May 1915 (the inscription - 2nd image - reads “A.D. Thomson, 51st High Div., 1/5/15”). Meanwhile, Jacques Cartier, fighting in the French cavalry, had just weeks earlier been gassed in the trenches on the Western Front. Which makes this watch all the more poignant for me: a link between him and the Scottish Captain joined in the common fight against their enemies.

Fortunately, both Jacques and the captain would survive the war…as would this #cartierwatch . I love how old and worn it looks today; not just a miniature working (yes it still works) work of art but also such an evocative piece of history that tells a story of those who made it, sold it and wore it.

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Thanks to @vogueindia @priyankaskhanna for asking me to contribute to their Valentine’s issue with a story behind a piece of jewellery I wear that signifies love. I chose my #triplering which I know from previous posts has a special significance with many of you all over the world. Here’s my story:

The first Cartier piece I ever owned was a Trinity Ring that I was given by my parents when I turned 18. I loved it, so wearable and chic. It’s made of three interlaced bands of yellow gold, white gold and pink gold which my grandfather (#JeanJacquesCartier) told me symbolised loyalty, friendship and love.

Legends about the origin of this ring abound as I write in my book on The Cartiers - some say it was made by my great-great-uncle #LouisCartier for his friend, the artist and writer #JeanCocteau in the 1920s, and that it was inspired by Cocteau’s opium-fuelled dream about the rings around Saturn. Whether or not this story is apocryphal, the role Cocteau played in boosting its popularity is indisputable (he was the literary bad boy of Paris at the time!). But even today, around 100 years after it first appeared in the Cartiers’ branches in London, Paris and New York as an affordable alternative to its high end jewellery for both men and women, it remains iconic.

Sadly, I lost my own ring when swimming in the Mediterranean soon after my parents gave it to me. I was devastated - a special gift like that is tied in with so much emotion. Fortunately, years later, my husband (who had heard this sob story a fair few times) surprised me with another trinity ring as a perfect birthday gift. I love it - and amazingly it works just as well now with any outfit as it did 25 years ago! Such a timeless piece, and so evocative too, I hardly ever take it off.

#trinityring #lovejewelry #valentines #lovering #lovejewellery #valentinejewelry #cartierisforlovers

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Well, that was majestic! Thank you to all who joined Part I of 'The Cartiers and the British Royal Family' live session yesterday.

It was such fun to explore the stories behind some of the phenomenal jewels in the Royal Collection with Caroline de Guitaut — as those of you who tuned in will know — a wealth of knowledge on the subject. We kicked off the session in the late 19th century when, while struggling to keep his father's small family firm afloat during the Paris Commune, a young Alfred Cartier fled to London with jewels to sell to the royal court. We then journeyed all the way through to 2011 when the Duchess of Cambridge wore the Queen's Halo Tiara as she walked down the aisle.

In between, there were coronations (great for an aspiring jewellery business), presentations at court (also good), Edwardian Christmases at Sandringham (remembered as 'Dickens in a Cartier setting' by the future Duke of Windsor), pearl-seeking adventures, Indian celebrations, elegant royal weddings and cataclysmic world-shaking events from war to the Great Depression.

Caroline also explained the different types of jewels in the Royal Collection, distinguishing between the Crown Jewels (kept in the Tower of London and used for coronations), historic jewels, heirloom jewels — like the diamond diadem in this image, made for the coronation of George IV — and the personal jewels of Her Majesty the Queen, including the Cartier necklace in this Dorothy Wilding portrait of Queen Elizabeth II at the start of her reign.

For me, this was a special webinar: I grew up hearing magical stories about the Cartiers' royal creations from my grandfather, so it was wonderful to share the history with so many of you.

For those who couldn't make it, the good news is that the recording is available to view. And more good news: we had just too many stories and jewels to squeeze into one event, so watch this space for details of Part II.

When Jacques Cartier moved his family across the Atlantic to England in the 1920s, he found himself, for a jeweller, in the right place at the right time. "All of society seemed to be en fête," the Duke of Windsor would recall of the postwar years, as "most of the great houses in London opened their doors for a flourish of hospitality such as will never be seen again." There were extravagant dinners, "served on gold or silver plates by footmen in the family livery with knee breeches, white stockings, buckled shoes, and powdered hair," and dancing under the light of thousands of candles.

It wasn't unusual to receive four invitations a night and quite acceptable to move from one to the next. And when the private parties had finished, there were the West End nightclubs, "an almost continuous ball from midnight until dawn." Jewels of course were de rigueur, and nowhere more so than in the presence of royalty.

Unlike their French neighbours (who no longer had a monarchy), British high society revolved around the Crown, and the high point of a young lady's life was her presentation at court in front of the King and Queen — the moment that formally launched her into society.

Strict rules around the dress code for this event had been in place for decades: everything from the gloves to the length of one's train to the number of feathers in one's hair was prescribed, and the gems were traditionally white and simple for the young ladies (it was their mothers who could go all out in big stones).

Jacques Cartier, who had visited the Persian Gulf in search of the finest natural pearls in the world, was well placed to offer his expertise, and "Pearls for your Debutante Daughter" became one of the early catchy taglines of Cartier London. Pictured here is the effortlessly chic future Duchess of Argyll — named the debutante of the year in 1930 — in a look that still holds up today.

As far back as I can remember I've been fascinated by the links between the Cartiers and the British royal family.

It was this relationship, perhaps above all others, which enabled the Cartier brothers to fulfil their childhood dream of turning their grandfather's small Parisian store into the leading jewellery firm in the world.

It was after all Edward VII who famously called Cartier 'king of jewellers and jewellers of kings' — a phrase which must rank right up there among the most apt examples of a self-fulfilling prophecy. As soon as he said it, it became indisputably true and because of his early patronage, Cartier was awarded not simply the British royal warrant but further warrants from royal families across Europe.

All of which hopefully goes some way to explaining why I was so excited to be speaking with Caroline de Guitaut, Deputy Surveyor of the Queen's Works of Art at the Royal Collection Trust, about the Cartiers and the British royal family for my next webinar.

We uncovered the stories behind jewels acquired by generations of the royal family, such as the 1930s Halo Tiara pictured here — made under my great-grandfather Jacques Cartier for the future King George VI as a gift for his wife, the future Queen Mother (left), later lent to Princess Margaret for her sister's coronation (right) and to the Duchess of Cambridge for her wedding to Prince William (centre).

We also took attendees on a journey through time: from the dazzling seasons and headache-inducing tiaras of Edwardian court life, to the princely gem-rich celebrations in bejewelled India and the glamour of the 1930s debutantes, all the way through to the changing fashions of post-war Britain and more recent royal weddings.

Stories surrounding the origin of this ring are as numerous as its many names: the bague trois ors, the bague trois anneaux (the triple gold ring or triple-ringed ring); the rolling ring, the Russian wedding ring or the Trinity ring.

What's clear is that when Cartier launched the simple platinum (later white gold), yellow gold and rose gold interlocking rings in 1924, the pared-back jewel — not a gemstone in sight — was a brave departure from the more extravagant accessories of the time. Legend has it that the ring was inspired by a friend of Louis Cartier: the rebellious artist Jean Cocteau.

Perhaps under the influence of opium, Cocteau is said to have told Louis that he had envisaged the rings around Saturn in a dream and wondered if Cartier could transmute their likeness into a ring, because the idea of something so large and universal being represented by something so small and personal entranced him. Whether or not this story is true (even Cocteau's family weren't sure when I asked them), the role the artist played in helping Cartier's triple ring achieve its iconic status is indisputable.

When the literary bad boy of Paris wore two together on his little finger — the six interlocking bands piled up powerfully on top of each other — it became a cult accessory, and not just among gay men.

In the 1940s, it was adopted by one of the most prominent men in Europe, another man who had chosen to defy convention, in his case by giving up the throne for love: the Duke of Windsor (2nd image). Soon after creating the ring, Cartier experimented with other triple jewels.

Elsie de Wolfe was an early adopter of the triple bracelet, while Vogue was also a fan, with a 1925 feature on the "new Jewelry from Cartier," both "amazingly chic" and "very moderate in price" (3rd image — intriguingly, the model Kendall Lee ended up marrying Cartier New York's head salesman, Jules Glaenzer). A hundred-odd years on and the 1920s ring is still going strong: I wear one almost every day (4th image) — love the history behind it but also, it just goes with everything and remains amazingly modern.

I guess it's the simplicity that makes it timeless. Any other triple ring fans out there?

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Jean Cocteau was an artist "to whom" according to Edith Wharton, "every great line of poetry was a sunrise, every sunset the foundation of the Heavenly City." He was also an admirer of Cartier, writing in his early 20s that the jeweller was "a subtle magician who captures fragments of the moon on a thread of sun."

Back then, his fame was confined to small literary circles but it soon grew, as did the controversy surrounding him. Cocteau, like his friend Louis Cartier, refused to follow trends. He hungrily explored multiple art forms from poems, novels and plays to sketching, painting, music and film.

Each time he created something new, he pushed the boundaries of what had gone before so that despite his brilliance, the Académie Française labelled him a "bad pupil." And yet in the end, his genius would win out: at 66, Cocteau was finally invited to join their prestigious literary body.

For his inaugural two-hour speech, Cocteau delighted the crowds with not only his wit but also his outfit: he wore Lanvin robes and in his left hand held a remarkable Cartier sword.

Cartier had been making these swords since the 1930s (each one resulted from conversations between a Cartier designer and the future academician to reflect his life's work) but this one was different: it was designed by Jean Cocteau himself. Like his writings, Cocteau's sword was signed with a star (in diamonds and rubies).

The handguard traced the profile of Orpheus, his mythological muse. The scabbard evoked the grille surrounding the gardens of the Palais-Royal, his home; and at its tip, a hand clutched an ivory ball referencing the snow-covered stone in Les Enfants Terribles.

The gems were gifted by friends, including Coco Chanel. Sadly Louis Cartier didn't live long enough to see his friend become one of 'les immortels' (as academicians are known), but his brother Pierre Cartier and Jeanne Toussaint remained friends with Cocteau for the rest of their lives.

Meanwhile the sword, a symbolic work of art by and for a great artist, stands out as one of the Cartiers' most unique creations for a client who would prove inspirational in more ways than one — including inspiring the Cartier Trinity Ring.

Inspiration is a funny thing, can’t know when or where it will strike. Even when it does, it’s not like it can be neatly packaged or explained.

Take the Cartier panthers…Much has been written about the role of Jeanne Toussaint with Cartier’s panther jewels.

She was Louis Cartier’s lover for a time and later the artistic director in Paris; and on the panther theme: her nickname was Pan Pan, she was an early adopter of the leopard skin coat, and she owned a panther vanity case.

A strong stylish woman in a man’s world, she became friends with the Duchess of Windsor (more on her soon) who shared a love of the big cat jewels.

My grandfather told me other stories about the inspiration behind the Cartier panthers: how his father had been entranced by the big cats on trips to India through the 1920s and 30s, and how – on returning home - he used to love reading his young children The Jungle Book at night, lingering over illustrations of Bagheera the Panther.

Later, in both Paris and London, the firm’s designers – like Pierre Lemarchand and Dennis Gardner - would head off to the zoo on lunch breaks, sketching all kinds of animals – everything from flamingos to tigers – that they would then use as inspiration for glittering jewels.

And then, just when you think you’ve understood the source of inspiration, something else turns up – like this book of drawings that I stumbled across not so long ago.

Those eagle-eyed might be able to see “J Cartier” so it must have belonged to my great-grandfather, Jacques Cartier, the same man so bowled over by the grace and power of the panthers in the wild. Perhaps it doesn’t matter where the inspiration comes from, just great when it comes at all!

What’s interesting is how a motif like the Cartier panther has interacted with so many people over decades - from designers to craftsmen to clients – and continues to do so.

Take the diamond and onyx panther bracelet on the right, the beautifully articulated one that the Duchess of Windsor bought in 1952.

A decade ago it went under the hammer at Sotheby’s and ended up breaking 2 auction records: the most expensive bracelet ever sold, and the most expensive Cartier item too. It reached $7m.

When it comes to tiaras, it's hard to beat those commissioned by the Romanovs.

This Cartier diamond kokoshnik was made for Grand Duchess Vladimir, inspired by her purchase of a historic 5.22ct ruby once owned by Empress Josephine. On the receipt, you might be able to make out part of the name "Vladimir..." and the date (1908) when she deposited seven rubies with Cartier to transform into a creation worthy of "the grandest of all the grand duchesses."

She was obviously happy with the result because she'd not only go on to order many more jewels from the Cartiers — she'd also introduce them to her high society circle. The turning point came in December 1910 when Louis Cartier, after years of trying to break into the Russian market, travelled to St Petersburg to meet with the Grand Duchess in the hope of securing a stall at her famous Christmas charity bazaar.

He admitted to feeling 'intimidated' in her presence (unusual for someone as confident as him!), but his mission was successful: he was offered a prime spot at the palace bazaar and two princesses as glamorous sales assistants. Unfortunately, it didn't go quite to plan, at least not to start with — to hear more about the behind-the-scenes arrest of an enraged Louis and the seizure of his little red boxes, check out the webinar — but in the end, he and his bejewelled creations made the type of impact other jewellers could only dream of (he made the equivalent of $18m today in that single sale).

Needless to say, the local jewellers weren't best pleased: "One hundred years after Napoleon…" the Russian media bitterly announced, "there is another invasion of Russia by the French!" This tiara was one of many smuggled out of Russia during the devastating revolution, later sold back to Cartier and then on to Nancy Leeds, when she was Princess Anastasia of Greece and Denmark.

Grand Duchess Vladimir, born Marie of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, joined the Romanov Dynasty in 1874 when she married Grand Duke Vladimir Alexandrovich, uncle to the last Emperor, Nicholas II. A prominent hostess in Saint Petersburg, she was known as the "grandest of all the grand duchesses."

Her jewellery collection was the stuff of legend. In 1902, Consuelo Vanderbilt — the dollar princess who had married the 9th Duke of Marlborough and was no stranger to important jewels herself — recalled visiting her in Russia: "She had a majestic personality, but could be both gracious and charming.

After dinner she showed me her jewels set out in glass cases in her dressing room. There were endless parures of diamonds, emeralds, rubies and pearls."

The Duchess was not only one of the Cartiers' best clients in the early 20th century — she also became a friend of Louis Cartier. It was through her, and her famous Christmas bazaar in St Petersburg, that Cartier became the jeweller of choice for the Romanovs, then the wealthiest dynasty in the world.

When Louis asked to borrow her famous 1874 diamond and pearl tiara by court jeweller Bolin (top picture), she agreed with pleasure and lent it to him in 1911 for six months.

Over that time he studied it closely, in awe of its beauty and craftsmanship, and it would go on to inspire him to create magnificent new jewels — such as the Leeds Tiara in 1913 (bottom picture) for Nancy Leeds, the future Princess Anastasia of Greece and Denmark.

It was such fun speaking to Prince Dimitri about this and many other stories from the intertwining lives of our ancestors in our recent webinar. As the great-great-grandson of Grand Duchess Vladimir, he took us behind the scenes of the opulent Romanov world and to the real people in those palaces living through that devastating revolution.

The recording is now available from the Webinars tab. And for those asking about Prince Dimitri's book Once Upon a Diamond — packed full of family stories and previously unpublished images — it would make a wonderful gift.

In 2003, this 478 ct #sapphire sold for CHF 1.9mn at a Christies’ auction. 104 years earlier, it was the star of the show in a post-WW1 Cartier jewellery exhibition in Louis Cartier’s favourite seaside town of San Sebastián. Back then, it attracted significant interest but failed to sell: when Queen Victoria Eugenia of Spain tried it on, her husband remarked of the 1.25mn franc price tag: "Only the nouveaux riches can afford such luxuries…we kings are the nouveaux pauvres of today!"

A couple of years later, however, it was a king who ended up buying it: King Ferdinand of Romania. He gave it to his glamorous wife, Queen Marie(wearing it here in a 1924 portrait by de Lazslo), as a coronation gift and she wore it often, especially as it went so well with her newly acquired Cartier Vladimir #sapphiretiara (one of the many Romanov jewels smuggled out of Russia during the revolution and sold to fund a life in exile).

As queen, Marie was one of the first royals to become a modern celebrity, thanks to her brilliant negotiating skills at the Treaty of Versailles, her willingness to engage with people of all backgrounds and her readiness to publish books and articles. When she visited the US in 1926 to "see the country, meet the people and put Romania on the map", #PierreCartier invited her to #CartierNewYork (he seemed "very eager that I should visit his shop"). Much to his delight, she agreed and the visit made it into all the papers. But that wasn’t enough for savvy businessman Pierre: determined to ensure the royal magic remained long after the press had died away, he made a plaque for the chair the Queen had sat on, reading: "On this chair sat her Majesty, Queen Marie of Rumania, when she paid a visit to the House of Cartier." He instinctively understood the power of celebrity endorsement and that by impressing a potential client, he was halfway to a sale.

For those interested in hearing and seeing more, you’re welcome to join for Thursday’s webinar when @prince.dimitri and I will be sharing more behind-the-scenes family stories about some seriously impressive #royaljewels and those who wore them...

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Princess Marie Bonaparte was quite a catch. Not only was she the great-great-niece of Napoleon, she was also wealthy through her mother's family (real estate developers). No surprise then that when she was courted by the son of a King, it was considered an ideal match.

In 1907, at 25 years old, she walked down the aisle with Prince George of Greece and Denmark in Athens. To the Cartier brothers' delight, the wedding jewellery was commissioned from Cartier — royal weddings were like gold dust, both for the boost in sales and for the association with a princess bride, not dissimilar to today really.

In fact, so proud were the team at 13 Rue de la Paix that they held an exhibition, with this diamond tiara the star of the show. The design was a nod to the princess' heritage and the family she was marrying into: the wreath evoked tiaras worn by Bonaparte women, while olive wreaths were worn by brides in ancient Greece. And, in a clever multi-gem twist, the eleven emerald 'olives' could be swapped out for diamonds if desired.

Researching royal weddings is always fun but hearing from those in some way personally connected to them takes it to another level. This rings especially true when speaking to Prince Dimitri (as I've been doing in preparation for our upcoming Cartiers/Romanovs virtual event) as he brings so many of the Cartiers' royal clients — who were members of his family — vividly to life.

Take Princess Marie (or Aunt Mimi as she was known) — turns out she was a real character: intellectual, independent and eccentric. She studied with Sigmund Freud in Vienna (later smuggling him out when the Nazis wanted to arrest him), wrote books on sexuality, became a leading authority in her field and interviewed murderers in prison to determine the cause of their violence.

The photos of Princess Marie in the tiara (2nd image of her wedding day and almost five decades later at Queen Elizabeth II's coronation) come from Prince Dimitri's book Once Upon a Diamond. Highly recommend it — as Galerie Magazine brilliantly summed up, "the most glamorous family scrapbook you'll ever read."

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I'm so excited for this month's talk when I'll be joined by Prince Dimitri — the great-great-great-grandson of Tsar Alexander II — for a uniquely personal journey back in time to the opulent palaces of pre-revolutionary Russia. Diamonds and high drama is a beguiling mix at the best of times but in the context of the Romanovs it becomes intoxicating.

This image shows one of Cartier's best clients of the early 20th century: Grand Duchess Vladimir, wearing her Cartier tiara and devant de corsage.

Behind her is an original letter I dug up during that decade I spent in the rabbit holes of family research — written by a Cartier representative in 1908 requesting an audience with the Russian royals (it clearly did the trick).

I've been fascinated by Grand Duchess Vladimir for years: how she led the St Petersburg social scene before being forced to flee her country, how her Romanov emeralds ended up adorning Barbara Hutton, and how, decades after her death, a multi-million dollar cache of long-lost jewels were discovered in two pillowcases in Stockholm.

No surprise then that when the opportunity arose to speak to someone directly connected to her extraordinary tale, I jumped at it.

We hope you can join us for this behind-the-scenes webinar on 19 November as we share intertwining stories of the Cartiers and the Romanovs from the perspective of both families.

Yes, there will be gems aplenty — enormous sapphires, emerald necklaces, ruby tiaras and rock crystal bandeaus — but in a way that's just the icing on the cake.

Because as you'll see, the history we've uncovered, with all its twists and turns, is almost more like a Bond film than real life: spies and smuggling, marriages and murders, glamorous costume balls and secret arrests, all set against the fairytale façade of a snow-filled St Petersburg.

Something for the watch lovers now. This picture features in a just-out Hodinkee review of The Cartiers by Jack Forster. For those who don't know it, Hodinkee is THE leading watch website/magazine/blog, and Jack Forster is its brilliant editor-in-chief (and author of Cartier Time Art, one of the best Cartier watch books out there).

All of which goes to explain why I was so pleased to see my book not only featured on their front page, but also reviewed in a way that really grasps the essence of what I was trying to achieve: "What is often missed," Jack writes when talking about Cartier pieces, "are the stories of the people behind the creations, which in many cases have been with us so long as to seem to have appeared through some process of spontaneous generation." That's what my grandfather Jean-Jacques Cartier felt too, and a promise I made to him to bring to life those behind the scenes of the family firm was a key motivation for the book.

Take the many skilled hands involved in creating a single vintage watch: the hours, days and weeks to fashion a gold case at the bench, to make the dial from a sheet of silver, to print on the numbers without it smudging, to cut out the hour and minute hands, and to miraculously assemble the component parts of not just a reliable timepiece but also a miniature work of art. Because creativity, as Jack succinctly points out, "cannot be bought by the kilogram from a supplier" — and the growth of luxury didn't just happen by magic: "Cartier was one of those firms that really invented luxury as we have come to know it today, and to read The Cartiers is not only to find oneself immersed in the genuinely gripping story of a business and creative dynasty, but also in the larger history of luxury."