Wal­lace Chan

The phys­i­cal act of expe­ri­enc­ing the Euro­pean ambiance of ebonized wood and sepia-tones of Brasserie Ruhlmann and view­ing Wal­lace Chan’s jew­elry was a lit­tle like observ­ing the world through rose-colored glasses. You may not see every­thing clearly, but all within your altered gaze glows with a hal­cyon light. The women mod­el­ing Chan’s col­lec­tion couldn’t have been hap­pier if the econ­omy had sud­denly taken a pos­i­tive shift. Each exam­ple I sur­veyed was a sculp­tural vision of one-off artistry. One pair of ear­rings had a Louis XVI vibe — dia­monds paired with the palest of blue-green chal­cedony — a bro­cade of color and light woven in gem mate­r­ial. Another pair of dan­glers seemed like snowed-covered and curlicued branches in mid-winter: all spare­ness, dia­monds, tiny pearls, and poetry. And still another incor­po­rated antique but­tons by famed French jew­elry house, Fal­ize. I’d like to know who wore such but­tons and the kind of gar­ment to which they were hap­pily attached. A mind-blowing thought akin to con­tem­plat­ing the size of the universe.

On his shoul­der, Chan was wear­ing the insect you see above; it was the first time he’d ever worn one of his own pieces. Every few min­utes, he look over his shoul­der to make sure it was still there (can you blame him?). The designer, the man, was con­tem­pla­tive and sin­cere about explain­ing what it is that he does. He thinks about how a woman will wear the object — how it bal­ances on the body. This counts heav­ily in his approach, and his favor. A think­ing woman’s jew­elry designer, if ever there was one.