Paperbacks with soft spines. A fountain pen that still stains your fingers. Light the color of tea. And a riddle that belongs to every desk in autumn: Why is a raven like a writing desk?
We like to think it’s because both invite secrets, both love a good line, and both wear black beautifully. This edit was photographed on a working tabletop—books we love, tools we actually use, and jewelry that keeps time with the turning pages.
Warm Pages, Honey Light
A gold paper-clip chain drapes like a margin note; beside it, Dawn’s Blush Beaded Necklace blends tiger eye, blue-grey notes, and tiny gold beats—calm, grounded, quietly radiant. A single honey-citrine drop (our favorite shade of “late afternoon”) from our Honeyed Grace Earrings adds a small exclamation. It’s the feeling of turning a good page and finding the line you needed.
Layer a slim chain over beads; keep the lengths staggered so the story reads clearly.
Bookmarked in Gold
Tucked into a well-loved spine, the Interwoven Hoops sit like clever hardware—subtle texture, a satisfying click, the look of a tiny tool borrowed from a maker’s drawer. Along the book’s edge, the Silken Petal Earrings line up like pressed blossoms—brushed-gold petals with a satin glow and a glimmering cluster that catches light when you laugh. Together, they read as margin notes in metal—utility and bloom, poem and pause—little punctuation marks for your profile that slip out, shine, and disappear back between the pages.
Desktop Staples
Our desktop staples: a metal tin, a leather journal, a seasonal wax seal. We change the seal with the season (summer’s lemon, autumn’s nutty goodness...) so every unboxing feels like a fresh stanza. Yes, it’s packaging—but for us, it’s part of the poem.
Practice Lines
Direction is learned in drafts. You clip a Compass Pearl Stud to the page you’re practicing on. North is not a place; it’s a pull. Some days you write new letters; some days you finally write them in your own hand.
“And indeed there will be time.”
There’s always a pocket of favorites that travels with you: a pendant that turns like a thought, a strand that quiets the noise, a note from a poem you carry for luck. Choose slowly. Wear daily. Let patina do its work.
Let the season teach you slowness. Let the desk be a small altar—keys, pen, ring, relief. The things you reach for become the chorus of your days: the clasp that clicks like a good sentence, the bead that warms with skin, the line you underline twice because it feels like a promise.
When you’re ready, write the outfit like a stanza: one sure line at the center, a gentle counterpoint beside it, a little white space so the whole thing breathes. Then step back. Time will finish the polish; use will finish the poem.
For now, wear what feels true—what sounds like you when it moves. The rest will arrive in its own time.
Wave Ring | Interwoven Hoops | Fortune's Turn Necklace | Falling Water Hoops | Seven Star Ring | Simply Agate Ring
ABOUT | Seasonal Edit
