Washing Cuffs

Every piece I have made starts with the same intention: to be worn by someone whose body needs it.

Copper has been worn against human skin for thousands of years — by Egyptian queens, by Roman soldiers, by every generation of women who came before us. Worn quietly, daily, against the skin. I have spent many years making these pieces by hand in our own workshop, and I have watched people come back year after year.

What began as a craft became something I can only describe as a calling. But now my granddaughters are growing up without me there — and for the first time in all those years, something matters more than the work.

Every piece in this collection was made by my hands, one at a time. There are only so many I can make — and once they are gone, I will not be making more.

She never took it off. Not in the shower. Not when she slept. Not even on her wedding day.
We called it superstition. She called it tradition.

She grew up wearing copper jewellery every day — just like her mother, and her mother before her.

"You stopped wearing copper and started wondering why everything feels heavier."

I waved it away for years. Until I turned 50 and started looking at her — really looking — and realised she had aged differently from every other woman I knew.

She had what I believe modern women have lost: something she put on every morning that connected her to her mother, her grandmother and every woman who came before them. A small daily ritual. Three thousand years old. No pills. No schedule. Nothing to remember.

Her copper bracelet is now on my wrist.

Too late to tell her she was right. But not too late for you.