Tomb Raider

(Above) Indian glass beads from a boutique in Greville St; Egyptian-style collar bought at the Camberwell Market years ago; base metal curvaceous necklace bought from Hobnob in Sassafras just a fortnight ago.

“I don’t like gold jewellery,” I used to loftily declare to my friends when I was young. I had developed this opinion because I didn’t like most of it that I saw when I was a teen in the 80s. It was very convenient, too, since it was far more expensive than silver and I couldn’t afford to buy it anyway.

Certainly I scorned the fake stuff: it went black and turned your skin green. The real gold jewellery some girls wore in high school I thought was common: chunky chains with twee little charms; plain round bangles; modest hoop earrings. They were usually gifts from their parents. And the pale yellow versions were worst of all.

But then one day something changed. I realised I actually adored gold. IF – and only if – it was the bright yellow, 22K stuff. The real deal. The sort of thing Indian brides wear. If it jingled that was just a bonus.

I realised I actually adored gold. IF – and only if – it was the bright yellow, 22K stuff… If it jingled that was just a bonus.

I have always admired jewellery from the ancient world: Egyptian, Etruscan, Greek, Persian, Roman, but particularly Egyptian. I loved the glass and stone beads, the scarabs, the ornate collars and so on. Jewellers at that time used gold in preference to any other metal: it was precious, didn’t tarnish, and its softness made it easy to work with.

Of course, I can’t afford to purchase these archaeological finds either.

A couple of years ago I saw a pair of 22K gold earrings from ancient Iran (Persia) in Gazelle, a jewellery boutique in the city. They were going for the modest sum of $700. I sighed, and admired them from behind the glass.

That was when I decided fake was good.