The Jewelry of Democracy
In the world of fashion and jewelry collecting, fine jewelry made of precious metals and rare stones is usually contrasted with costume jewelry, also known as fashion jewelry, trinkets, fallalery, or imitated, copy, fake, faux, paste, or junk jewelry. Jewelers and collectors may make finer distinctions between these terms, but the prevailing differentiation is one between pieces of widely accepted value and durability, and their various cheaper counterparts. The blurring of these categories, in particular the increasing accessibility of jewelry of real or apparent higher value to a broader segment of the public, has taken many forms over the years, in a process some have called “democratization.”
The term “democratization” has shifted in meaning over the course of the 20th century, going from a more literal definition of “the introduction of a democratic system or democratic principles” applied to projects of self-government, to a more general definition of “the action of making something accessible to everyone.” The shift seems to be underpinned by a notion that the practice of democratic governance is itself something that is accessible to a broad public. This notion may be debatable, and the American Dream of social mobility may be more difficult than upholders of democracy might claim. But a quick review of how the word “democratization” has been applied to the fashions of different time periods reveals how tastes in jewelry at least can move freely, in tandem with new technologies, between high and low.
The 1980s saw a noticeable shift in jewelry from something of an accessory to more an integral part of fashion, with the New York Times running an article titled “Costume Jewelry Gains Status”. Said a spokesperson for one of the three largest costume jewelry makers at the time: “The better-educated consumer no longer looks at fashion jewelry as a replacement for real jewelry she can't afford…so it doesn't matter if it looks real or not.” The president of another of the largest companies summarized the profile of this emergent segment of customers with a bold slogan that could have come straight from the marketing department: “These are women who dare to be noticed.”
During World War II, in what some jewelry style timelines call the “Retro” period, working women with more increased spending power moved beyond the custom of receiving jewelry as gifts from spouses, and used their disposable income to buy jewelry for themselves. Increasing mechanization and commercialization made colorful lower-cost stones such as citrines, aquamarines, topazes and tourmalines the new standard.
During the Depression, Bakelite, the first form of plastic, and other petroleum-based materials like celluloid and lucite, offered similarly low-cost ways to create jewelry with a variety of colors and intricate designs. Soon after, the widespread popularity of moving images and the dominance of the Hollywood studio system created a new kind of elite—the movie star—whose jewelry and fashions replaced those of the Gilded Age high society in the popular imagination, setting new standards for glamor to which consumers could aspire. Celebrity was the new royalty, and enterprising jewelers like Eugene Joseff (aka “Joseff of Hollywood”) could capitalize on jewelry’s new visibility with a business that catered to, and served as a kind of conduit between, both the studio clientele and the broader retail market, with replica jewelry that shone just as bright off-screen as on.
In the 18th century, an emerging middle class some call the bourgeoisie was born out of the Industrial Revolution. Its members, writes author Deanna Farneti Cera in Adorning Fashion: The History of Costume Jewellery to Modern Times, “wanted the privilege to wear jewelry previously reserved for royalty and nobles...As they were not rich enough to afford fine jewelry, imitation jewelry—with the same look but made in non-precious materials—started to appear.” Some recognize the Georgian era of 1714-1837 as the first significant period of jewelry’s democratization. As class boundaries became more fluid, new technologies allowed the middle class to aspire to aristocratic appearances. French jewel designer Georges Frédéric Strass’s invention of “paste”, or lead glass that was cut and polished with metal powder or backed with metallic foil, offered a more accessible way to replicate the brilliance of diamonds or emulate the color of gemstones, especially in this time before electricity when jewelry was often viewed by candlelight.
Nowadays, the same dynamics are still at play—with jewelry representing new forms of distinction and aspiration, and new technologies to enable its accessibility. The “D-word” is widely applied—to everything from the fine jewelry maker Royal Chain creating the offshoot designer sub-brand Phillip Gavriel (named after its creative director Phillip Gabriel Maroof), which a writer for the jewelry “industry Bible” JCK Magazine called “the democratization of fine jewelry,” to the manufacture of synthetic or lab-grown diamonds, which a writer for Forbes likened to on-demand transportation (i.e. Uber) and boutique hospitality (i.e. Airbnb) as a prime example of “the democratization of luxury.” Others point to the internet, globalization, and Asia’s growing demand as evidence of jewelry’s democratization. Such claims might reflect a cheapening of the word, or perhaps a cheapening of the value of the thing it references: actual democracy.
It might be questioned whether things that were formerly the province of elites becoming accessible to the middle classes—things like the ability to participate in stock market investment or real estate speculation, to easily hire out service work to a lower class, or to flaunt one’s distinction with an ever broader array of shiny bodily adornments—actually equate to some kind of increase in democracy. [Especially given the stubborn persistence, alongside and despite such developments, of historical wealth gaps, gender and race-based income inequities, and the like.] We might also question to what extent American democracy itself is in fact real, or whether in some critical respects it is false, fake, or junk—more like a “costume” of cheap jewelry. At a time when elements of the US populace are challenging the very idea of representative government, some may even question whether what we call “democratization” is a good thing.
But in the case of costume jewelry, one can be forgiven for taking very real pleasure in the myriad forms it can take and ways it can be worn, apart from any conception of high or low, democratized or not. Like the airplane parts that replaced rhinestones on Joseff of Hollywood’s factory production lines during WWII (which continue to generate a significant part of that company’s revenue) jewelry has a utilitarian value that is tied to its aesthetic qualities. Its beauty to us is useful to us. And we can appreciate it for that alone, apart from its monetary value.
It doesn’t matter whether the jewelry is expensive, “real” etc.—if it makes the wearer feel good, that is something to be valued. Because such a person values themselves. A person who looks good and feels good, or at least feels they look good, is a person with the self-confidence to go out and face the world. They are a person who, as that industry executive’s slogan put it, “dares to be noticed.” They may even become a person who refuses to be ignored. And such a person may be better equipped—among other things—to turn instances of fake democracy into something more real.
