Dragonfly, Magic On the Wing Necklace

Dragonfly Magic on the Wing
Enamel & Diamond Necklaces

It takes something to make a jeweler stand still and really take a closer look. We see a lot of beautiful things. But sometimes, there is a moment where beauty and magic are captured in a new way, and we stop still in our tracks. This is one of those moments.

Not too big, not too small. The size of a fairy princess in my imagination. The wings are inlaid with blue enamel, not a solid color, but translucent variegated tones in a technique called plique-à-jour, French for “to the light of day”. It’s a miniature stained-glass work of art.

The Best Part

The upper back wings tremble when touched, aflutter when you move or when the piece is subjected to any movement (watch our video).

Developed by the French for butterflies, dragonflies, and certain flower jewelry, the French term en Tremblant sets the piece in motion and is seen in pins, crowns, and tiaras of the 19th century. The poised in-air flutter of wings of this dragonfly is highly wearable, and an ideal size for drama and attention.

You will catch others stealing a second, a third glance at your necklace, until finally, someone says, “Are the wings on your dragonfly fluttering? I could have sworn the wings are moving.”

Guaranteed: this will become one of your top ten favorite pieces. If you are fascinated, intrigued, and spellbound by the magic of dragonflies, you are going to love this piece of jewelry.

Yes, we have four blue dragonflies… a clue. Then one in yellow and one in pink. If we sell out quickly, and these are at risk, we can make more. Time: they are all handmade…we are not sure. Best to order soon.

There are mountain people, lake people, ocean people. I’m an ocean person. Grew up summers on a white sand beach in Maine. My Dad had boats, sail boats, motor boats, and a fleet of row boats. We travelled the ocean thousands of times. Once, in my youth, my dad took one of his motor boats to the lake. He put it in at Sebago Lake and we travelled up the Songo River and Songo Locks. I was five that summer.

I remember everything: the water, its amber tea color, the smell of the river, the fresh taste of the water, its temperature. I remember passing boats, the locks, the water filling, our boat rising. I remember Naples and returning down the Songo River. I remember lunch, not what we ate, but stopping along the river, a sandy beach, reeds by the shore, rounded boulders peaking up through the water and I remember dragonflies as only a child can.

I’d never seen them up close in the country or at the ocean. Here on the river, I saw red and purple and green. Saw a bug with wings that was stationary in the air. A bug that appeared to be as interested in me as I was with it. A five year old sitting on a rounded rock and colored fairies with wings flying, hovering, holding poised still there, six or eight inches away at eye level, pure spectral color gliding in the sun. Each its own slice of rainbow. Poised mid-air, just for me to study. It, I swear, was studying me.

I saw the transparent wings and pure metallic body color. Children do more than “see” color, they feel color, they taste and smell color. The taste of a dragonfly is warm, fresh lake water. The feel of a Dragonfly is July, full sun, 90 degrees in the shade and 90% sticky humidity. The colors were so pure, orange, yellow, blue. I wanted a collection. I wanted to take them home. The memory is so vivid. I still feel the full sense of wanting a full collection of these bug colors.

I’d never seen a bug hover. I’m sure I’d seen dragonflies, but never ones so close. Never in pure metallic colors. The memory is so powerful, I can almost remember what we had for lunch that day.