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.