The Louvre Jewellery Heist: what we’re really losing when jewels are stolen

Theft of historic jewellery

The Louvre Jewellery Heist: what we’re really losing when jewels are stolen

Published October 22, 2025

It’s like a plot straight out of Ocean’s Eleven: one of the most famous museums in the world, the Louvre in Paris, gets robbed in broad daylight of dazzling jewellery. For me, as an archaeologist and jewellery historian, 2025 is turning out to be quite a disconcerting year: this is not the first high-profile jewellery heist, and it’s not all tiaras and diamond parures — irreplaceable archaeological artefacts are still missing, too. So, let’s look beyond the daring movie plots to what is really lost — and that is much more than just jewels.

The Louvre Jewellery Heist: a cultural loss beyond value

On 19 October 2025, four thieves disguised as construction workers entered the Galerie d’Apollon at the Louvre through a maintenance lift and smashed their way into display cases.

In just under seven minutes, they stole eight pieces of historic jewellery, including items once belonging to Empress Eugénie, Queen Hortense, and Empress Marie-Louise.

Each of these pieces was a link to a moment in France’s royal past. The stolen items formed part of France’s national crown jewel collection. The museum emphasised that the real loss is not financial, but cultural and historical. Their theft severs those historical links I just mentioned. But the estimated financial value is still what you’ll find in most news items.

The Drents Museum robbery and the Dacian gold of Romania

Like I said, 2025 is a very disconcerting year. It began with another devastating loss: on January 25, the Drents Museum in Assen, the Netherlands, was robbed of the Dacian gold of Romania — unique archaeological jewellery loaned for a temporary exhibition.

When artefacts like these are stolen, the break is not only in possession, but in continuity. They carried evidence of how societies valued adornment, craftsmanship, and trade — insights now vanished along with the jewellery itself.

Its true worth lay in what it represented: a tangible connection to Romania’s ancient past and cultural identity. One of the stolen pieces, a stunning gold helmet, even features on the national banknotes – this is far more than treasure that has been taken.

Jewellery is a historical source, not just an ornament

You know my main conviction: jewellery is never just an object. It is a bearer of stories — about the person who wore it, the society that made it, the techniques used to craft it, and the routes through which it travelled. Jewellery is, in itself, a historical source.

And that is not just because of the links with historic events, such as France’s jewels. When jewellery is melted or broken apart, we lose for example the opportunity to gain technological insights.

Did you know that studying metalwork, alloys, settings, and components shares an incredible amount of insights? It tells us about trade contacts, developing techniques, social stratigraphy within a community, economic booms or crises… And there’s so much more, down to the ways a piece of jewellery was dangling, swaying, or pinned onto fabric. Can’t research that when the piece is gone.

Even if an item resurfaces, the web of relationships that made it historically meaningful is probably damaged, or worse, gone.

Melted history: how high gold prices threaten jewellery

These heists starkly illustrate another loss: the reduction of jewellery to its bullion value. I’ve argued before that jewellery is more than the worth of its components – see more about that here.

Thieves – and the networks they feed – increasingly treat centuries-old goldwork as raw material. This year’s record-high gold prices only add to that risk. In October 2025, gold briefly topped $4,000 per ounce. That’s a strong incentive to convert historically significant jewellery into meltable assets.

When thieves target archaeological artefacts, like the Dacian gold bracelets stolen in the Drents Museum heist, they are often stolen for their material worth, and the headlines in the news often seem to focus on that, too. It seems to be the first reaction – what was it worth?

And even then, these jewels are not stolen for resale on the art market. Because, think of it: who is going to buy that Dacian bracelet or that sapphire parure? These things are impossible to fence off.

So, what do we often see happening? Destruction. In search of financial value, stolen jewellery ends up melted down, broken apart, stones altered…and gone is your historic source.

The vanishing record: why so little historical jewellery survives

And that brings me to a lesser-discussed but super important aspect: there is not that much historical jewellery to begin with. Jewellery heritage survives selectively.

For example, those jewels stolen from the Louvre are among the few that remain of France’s turbulent royal past: the majority was already destroyed during past events.

And the further we travel back in time, the scarcer jewellery becomes: the Bronze Age artefacts stolen from St. Fagans in the UK, also in 2025, represent unique pieces of prehistoric Welsh gold jewellery – there aren’t that many others. With these pieces gone, we lose sight of a significant part of prehistory.

Heists and theft: what’s really at stake is losing history, not just objects

As a jewellery historian, my greatest concern is not just about spectacular thefts, but about the long-term loss of knowledge. We lose voices from history.

Obviously, a heist like in Paris, Assen or St Fagans shocks me: I simply cannot believe anyone would take cultural heritage from the public to serve their own benefit and profit. It’s maddening. It hurts. A jewellery theft of this magnitude sends shockwaves through a community as it is robbed of its tangible connection with history.

So, while news outlets highlight what was stolen, I’m trying to grasp the enormity of what has been lost – and can only hope the pieces will be recovered.

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The Bedouin Silver Jewellery Blog: Sigrid van Roode

Sigrid van Roode is an archeologist, ethnographer and jewellery historian. Her main field of expertise is jewellery from North Africa and Southwest Asia, as well as archaeological and archaeological revival jewellery. She has authored several books on jewellery, and obtained her PhD at Leiden University on jewellery, informal ritual and collections. Sigrid has lectured for the National Museum of Antiquities in Leiden, Turquoise Mountain Jordan, and many others. She provides consultancy and research on jewellery collections for both museums and private collections, teaches courses and curates exhibitions. She is not involved in the business of buying and selling jewellery, and focuses on research, knowledge production, and education only. Sigrid strongly believes in accessibility of knowledge, and aims to provide reliable and trustworthy content: that’s why the Bedouin Silver blog provides references and citations.

This blog is free: if you’d like to support independent research, please consider enrolling in a course or a jewellery talk. The proceeds directly fund my research work: thank you so much for your support!

When jewellery is called museum quality — and when it’s not

by dr. Sigrid van Roode | Opinion

Rethinking jewellery’s worth

When jewellery is called museum quality – and when it’s not

Published September 11, 2025

The other day, I received an email from someone saying they had purchased a museum quality bracelet from the Middle East and wanted me to validate it. That’s not the first time I’ve heard someone describe jewellery as museum quality – sellers use the phrase too. But what does it really mean?

What people think ‘museum quality’ means

The email about the bracelet mentioned that a similar piece was in the collection of a large museum. Could I please confirm whether their bracelet had the same value? Behind this seemingly simple request is a set of common assumptions. When non-museum people use the label museum quality, they usually mean one of three things:

There is a piece just like it in an actual museum collection;
It’s very beautiful, undamaged, and, oddly, sometimes size matters too;
It’s rare or unique – you will not find a comparable piece easily.

Put together, these often add up to a fourth meaning: expensive. If it’s museum quality, surely you’ll be willing to pay more for it.

To put it bluntly: in my view, the term museum quality, more often than not, is used mainly to add prestige for both sellers and buyers: ‘look what I managed to find!’ Maybe it could even play into the desire of collectors to share and show their pieces: what better way to acknowledge your excellent taste than to own a piece similar to one admired by thousands? Of course, it’s always nice to find a parallel in a museum, but does that mean your piece is exceptional?

The thing is that this has very little to do with how museums themselves think about jewellery – and why the question of the e-mailer is impossible to answer for me.

Examples of jewellery in museums: from plastic beads to diamonds

Let’s start with jewellery that is actually in museums. I’ll share two examples with you, which you can also see above: click to enlarge them.

A few years ago, I loaned a few strands of plastic eye-beads to our National Museum of Antiquities. They were literally airport purchases, you know the type – cheap, mass-produced bracelets and keychains.

Does being in a museum suddenly make them museum quality? Nope. Although they were mass-produced and of little material value, they were included in an exhibition on beads because they showed how an ancient symbol, the eye, continues into modern souvenir culture. They illustrated a particular storyline the museum wanted to tell.

Another case is the Zeeman diamond pendant, sold for €30 in 2025. One of these pendants now sits in Antwerp’s diamond museum DIVA. Clearly, a silver pendant with a tiny lab-grown diamond isn’t museum quality in the sense of rarity or luxury.

See more about that particular pendant here, it’s quite the story!

It’s hardly comparable to the diamond necklace of Marie-Antoinette that led to the French Revolution, to name but one famous example. But it is important as cultural evidence. It marks a shift in how diamonds are marketed and consumed, and that makes it valuable for a museum narrative – specifically the story that DIVA aims to research and share.

These examples, both cheap and mass produced items on display in a museum, show why assuming museum quality means ‘expensive’ or ‘rare’ can be misleading.

Parameters that define ‘museum quality’ jewellery

So, what does make a piece of jewellery museum quality? As I said above, the term is often misused in the market as a synonym for ‘exceptional’ or ‘expensive.’ But in reality, museum quality jewellery is defined by a set of parameters that relate to cultural, historical, and ethical significance. Museums decide what to collect based on their mission and research priorities. These are some of the key factors you could think of:

Cultural or historical significance – A piece may be important because it reflects social identity, ritual, or everyday life.
Representativeness – Museums often collect typical examples of a style or tradition, not just the unusual ones.
Rarity and survival – A fragile bead that has survived for centuries may be more important than a mass-produced gold bangle.
Condition – While good condition is preferred, damage can sometimes add meaning if it tells a historical story.
Contextual value – A piece may be collected because it contributes to a wider narrative.
Ethical considerations – Provenance matters more than ever. Museums increasingly reject objects of dubious origin, regardless of their other qualities. A piece of jewellery may be big and beautiful, or filling a lacuna in the collection, but if its provenance can’t be traced, museums will more and more decide to pass on it. Provenance matters, people, I can’t stress that enough!

Taken together, these parameters show that museum quality jewellery is about meaning, not money. Actually, what qualifies as significant for one museum may not even be considered for another.

What about aesthetics…?

But surely, you might think, a truly beautiful, well-preserved piece must be museum quality? Aesthetics do play a role, of course, especially for display. But beauty alone is never enough. It’s almost like real life here.

In fact, aesthetic appeal can be misleading. Some Turkmen jewellery in the Metropolitan Museum of Art has come under scrutiny because several pieces are suspected to have been created more recently, to satisfy collectors’ demand for something ‘museum quality’.

Those pieces have no parallels, no clear provenance that would explain their virtually pristine condition despite being over a century old, there are no old photographs, no historic sources. And…they’re unusually large compared to well-documented Turkmen jewellery of the same age. It needs more research, of course, but firm fact is that copies of traditional jewellery are increasingly sold as authentic, and, there it is again, as ‘museum quality’.

Misuse of the term ‘museum quality’

If you’ve ever browsed antique shops or online listings, you’ve probably seen the phrase museum quality splashed across descriptions every now and then. And for sure, that sounds impressive! It suggests that you’re buying something authentic, rare, and important.

But more often than not, it’s just marketing. Sellers use it in three main ways:

To push up the price – labelling a piece as museum quality can make it seem more valuable than it really is.
To imply authenticity – if a museum owns something similar, then surely this piece must also be genuine and significant… right?
To increase pressure on you to buy – you would not want to pass up that single opportunity to acquire something truly unique, would you?

As a buyer, you can protect yourself by treating museum quality as a red flag rather than a guarantee. It’s not a term used in museum cataloguing. It’s not an accepted standard in the jewellery trade. It’s marketing.

Just to be clear: that doesn’t mean the piece in front of you has no value! It may be exquisite, rare, or historically interesting, or all of the above. But those qualities deserve to be weighed against your personal collection preferences.

Let me just say this: I know of one dealership that has actual museum quality jewellery that makes my jaw drop whenever I visit. I could think of several museums where part of these collections would make for a superb addition. But take note: these dealers never use the term themselves, simply because they don’t need to: their visitors know what they’re looking at and whether that matches their collection preferences.

A piece of jewellery needs to be a right fit for a specific museum – slapping a general term on a random piece just does not make sense. There’s literally no need to loudly and visibly stress that something is ‘museum quality’ – the right museum will decide that for itself, and if their curators are any good, they will spot a right fit for their collection just as easily in a thrift shop as in a high-end gallery.

So, museum quality jewellery is not a universal standard. What one museum chooses to collect, another might not even consider. The term only makes sense when tied to a specific institution and purpose.

What does ‘museum quality’ really mean…?

So, what is museum quality jewellery? It’s not a universally acknowledged label, but a very specific thing. It considers provenance, cultural meaning, representativeness, and context. Museums collect jewellery because it tells human stories: of identity, of daily life, of tradition, and sometimes of global change.

When sellers use museum quality as a catchphrase, it often misleads buyers and blurs the difference between cultural significance and market value. But when we use the term carefully, it becomes a reminder that jewellery is more than material: it’s heritage, story, and identity.

So next time you see that phrase in an Ebay-description…Hold on for a second. Think. Ask questions. Dig deeper. What, exactly, is it about this piece that would make it suitable for a museum? And which museum would that be? And why? As always, it boils down to doing your own due diligence – so you’ll recognize that museum quality piece when it does cross your path!

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Please don’t cook with Cartier

by dr. Sigrid van Roode | Opinion

With love, meghan

Please don’t cook with Cartier

Published September 5, 2025

First, I have a confession to make. I have watched With Love, Meghan. Both seasons, all episodes. Flower sprinkles and scented guest towels hold no secrets for me, and I have been making apple butter by the gallon this last week. But although the show is soothing, relaxing and comforting, there is one thing that makes me really, really anxious as a jewellery person. And that is, you guessed it: the jewellery. With more than my average annual income on her hands (chunky engagement ring with Botswana diamond and gold Cartier tank watch, just to name a few), Meghan happily kneads dough, moulds clay, rinses vegetables… while I watch in rising horror. Because here’s the truth: jewellery is not indestructible, and wearing it while cooking or cleaning can cause damage that even the most skilled conservators cannot always undo.

Why cooking in your jewellery can cause damage

Even pieces made of metal and gemstone – materials that feel solid and enduring – are surprisingly vulnerable to daily wear and tear. Gold, for example, is a relatively soft metal, especially in its higher karat forms. When you rub it against hard surfaces like countertops, or plunge it repeatedly into water, you’re encouraging surface scratches and slow erosion. Stones can loosen from their settings. Clasps weaken. Chains stretch. Prongs bend.

Wearing jewellery while cooking is especially risky. Think of all the small particles of flour, spices, or oils that can work their way into tiny crevices of a ring or a bracelet. Dough in particular is notoriously sticky and persistent – I’ve seen old rings with decades of residue built up beneath the bezel, hardened into something that looks like concrete.

Even washing vegetables can pose a risk. A moment of distraction, and a ring slips off under running water, vanishing into the sink drain before you even notice. I mean, it happened to the Romans: dozens of ring stones were found in the drainage pipes of a bath house in England.

There’s also the issue of sudden temperature changes. Heating and cooling can cause tiny cracks or stress points in certain stones.

Pearls can be dulled by exposure to vinegar or lemon juice, both common kitchen staples. If you’re marinating a salad with your hands, your pearls probably shouldn’t come along for the ride. Or actually, any jewellery.

Jewellery as heritage: why taking care of it matters

But apart from the technical reasons, there’s something deeper at stake here. Jewellery carries history. Even if it’s not antique, every piece becomes a witness to our lives – and not all events should leave their mark. When I see someone wearing an exquisite ring to mould clay, I don’t see luxury, I see loss: the slow withering of stories that could have lasted generations.

And it’s not just emotional sentiment. From a conservation perspective, unnecessary handling of jewellery is a real concern. Museums and collections across the world maintain strict protocols for handling historical jewellery. Gloves are worn not to protect the person, but to protect the piece – oils and acids in human skin can corrode metal, dull gemstones, and cause tarnish. Jewellery conservators avoid even touching stones unless necessary. We know from decades of experience how easily surface damage can accumulate, even when wear feels gentle or casual.

Even more, once damage is done, repair isn’t always straightforward. Restoring a ring that has lost its setting or replacing worn enamel is a skill in its own right – and one that often comes with compromises. Original details might be lost in the process, or replaced with modern materials that don’t quite match. In the world of historical jewellery, ‘untouched’ often carries more value than ‘restored’.

For contemporary jewellery, you might think that repair is easier – and often it is – but some designs, especially from luxury brands, are difficult to repair without sending them back to the maker. Repairs are not just pricey, they’re slow, and often restricted to authorised centres. Damage caused by misuse can even void warranties. Just saying.

A suggestion for With Love, Meghan

Of course, jewellery is meant to be worn. That’s the whole point of it, and one I advocate as well. It lives best when it is close to us, part of our daily rituals. But part of wearing it well, is understanding when not to. Jewellery doesn’t need to be treated like it’s made of spun glass, but neither should it be expected to survive a kitchen workout or a pottery class unscathed. I do wish we’d think twice before whisking cake batter in our grandmother’s engagement ring. It’s not a harmless choice: it’s slow damage, and professional jewellery care and preservation are sometimes as easy as taking your jewellery off at the right moment!

So next time you reach for the flour or the dish sponge, think twice before your jewellery joins in. Because caring for jewellery today means preserving its story for tomorrow.

Also, if I could offer a suggestion to the show: removing one’s jewellery before taking on any crafting or cooking goes a long way to elevating the everyday and lowering my heart rate . Thank you!

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Verdigris in Middle Eastern jewellery

by dr. Sigrid van Roode | Tips for collectors

What every collector needs to know

Verdigris in Middle Eastern jewellery

Updated June 6th, 2025

So, this happened… Recently, a Yemeni jewellery set came up for sale at an online auction. A friend sent me the listing, and one phrase in the description stopped me mid-sip:

The piece was labelled:

“A vintage metal ornate dress regalia, with decorative chains and turquoise decoration.”

I nearly choked on my coffee.

‘Turquoise decoration’?! No way. That greenish substance was not turquoise. It was verdigris – a corrosive compound that damages jewellery. Calling it a “decoration” is not just misleading – it’s potentially harmful to collectors and collections. The jewellery set in question is shown below: take a good look at that greenish hue, because that is what we’ll zoom in on here.

I made a 5 second reel out of it on Instagram (which got over 25k views) – but this topic needs a little more explanation than a social media caption. So, here’s a blog on verdigris, the Green Monster!

What is verdigris?

Verdigris is a corrosion product that forms on copper, brass, or bronze when these metals are exposed to moisture and air. The word comes from the French vert-de-gris. It means ‘grey-greenish’, and was used as main component in green pigments. Because it is unstable, and reacts with other materials, it ceased to be used in art as soon as other green pigments became available.

In scientific terms, it’s a mixture of copper salts, formed through the reaction of copper with water, oxygen, and carbon dioxide, often catalysed by organic materials like skin oils, textiles, or leather.

Traditional jewellery from North Africa and Southwest Asia often includes silver-copper alloys or decorative elements containing copper or brass. When these metals are exposed to humidity or stored improperly, verdigris can begin to develop. It looks like green crusts, patches, or powdery growths on the surface. The header above this blog post shows you what that looks like, as does the image of the Yemeni jewellery set.

Why is verdigris a problem for Middle Eastern jewellery?

While it may look picturesque (well, to an untrained eye: me, it makes me scream), it’s far from harmless. Verdigris is corrosive and unstable. If left untreated, it will continue to eat away at the underlying metal, weakening structural components, eroding fine details, and compromising the overall integrity of your jewellery.

If one piece shows signs of verdigris, this may indicate its storage conditions are too humid. If you have more than one piece in the same storage conditions, chances are verdigris may develop on those, too. [1] This makes it not just a problem for one piece, but a risk to an entire collection. It’s a nightmare, honestly.

In museum contexts, verdigris is treated as an active conservation concern. For private collectors, the risk is no different. Ignoring it can lead to permanent loss of historical material, diminished value, and potentially hazardous conditions if the corrosion product interacts with skin or textiles.

How to protect your Middle Eastern jewellery collection from verdigris?

Here are 5 things you can do to protect your collection of traditional jewellery from North Africa and Southwest Asia from verdigris:

Learn to identify verdigris

Verdigris appears as a surface deposit—often flaky, waxy, or powdery. It typically forms in crevices or where metal has been in contact with other materials.

Approach vague or overly positive descriptions with caution

Phrases like “turquoise decoration,” “aged patina,” or “natural wear” can mask underlying issues. If an image shows green deposits on a piece of jewellery that traditionally wouldn’t include turquoise, it’s likely corrosion.

Isolate affected items

If you discover verdigris in your own collection, remove the piece and inspect its storage conditions (see below). Wrap it in clean, acid-free paper or cloth and store it in a well-ventilated, dry area until you can address the issue. This is also why you will want to carry out regular inspections of your jewellery, so you can catch it early.

Store your collection correctly

Avoid high humidity. And if you cleaned an item: make sure it is dry through and through before storing it. Don’t use sealed plastic bags or containers, which trap moisture. Ziploc bags are fine, but don’t seal them shut. Use acid-free tissue and breathable materials. Keep metal components from direct contact with skin oils, leather, or synthetic materials that might accelerate corrosion.

Clean with care

Do not scrape or scrub verdigris off with household tools: this may scratch the metal or force corrosion deeper into the surface. Dry brushing or gently dabbing with a cotton swab under professional guidance may be appropriate, but for valuable pieces, always consult a conservator.

See more about cleaning your jewellery here (….and read this blog post first!).

Caring for Middle Eastern jewellery: know your stuff

And finally, a few thoughts…

The misidentification of verdigris as ‘turquoise decoration’ highlights a broader issue: lack of specialized knowledge in non-dedicated auction settings.

Because sellers, especially those listing pieces at generalist or online platforms, do not always have the training to accurately assess traditional jewellery from North Africa and Southwest Asia. Mislabelling corrosion as decorative inlay is so stupendously ignorant that it left me baffled, but you might also see signs of wear and damage described as part of the ‘design’. Now, don’t get me wrong, this is not necessarily out of bad intent! In most cases, it’s simply not-so-blissful ignorance.

But the thing is: the consequences are real.

For collectors, this basically means one thing: buyer beware. It’s essential to develop the skills to recognize materials, assess condition, and interpret seller descriptions critically. Accurately interpreting what you’re seeing (…and what you’re being told!) requires more than just an eye for beauty. It requires contextual knowledge: of materials, techniques, and signs of deterioration.

This is why learning matters. Because every piece tells a story – and it deserves to be heard, not eaten away.

So, thank you for being here and following my jewellery blog: together, we learn and preserve this heritage jewellery for the future!

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References

[1] An earlier version of this blog mentioned that verdigris spreads. A knowledgeable reader of this blog pointed out to me that this is not the case, saying ‘keeping jewellery perfectly dry will prevent verdigris from occurring and prevent existing verdigris from affecting other areas’. Thank you!

The Bedouin Silver blog gives credit where credit is due! Transparent referencing and citing sources helps us all grow. Would you like to do the same and quote this article? Here’s how:

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Patina in Middle Eastern jewellery

by dr. Sigrid van Roode | Tips for collectors

what is patina?

Patina in Middle Eastern jewellery

Published March 18, 2024

Patina is a word you’ll see used often when talking about ethnic jewellery. It may be described as ‘having great patina’, and collectors may be afraid that cleaning ‘removes the patina’. But what is patina? You may be surprised to learn that it is used for two very different things!

Patina in ethnic jewellery: what it technically is

Corrosion. Patina refers to the thin layer that develops on the surface of metals due to natural oxidation and environmental exposure over time. You could think of the greenish hue that bronze statues or architectural elements may have, for example.

But it encompasses a broad spectrum of colours and textures, ranging from earthy browns to deep blues and reds. Patina is a result of the metal’s reaction with elements like oxygen, moisture, and sulphur. As such, it is technically the same as tarnish.

In some types of jewellery, patina is actually prized: it indicates that the jewel is indeed old. But, beware: there are tons of ways to create a fake patina on jewellery!

Patina, rust, tarnish: what is the difference?

Technically, none. They are all words for the oxidation in metals. But patina is often used for the colour effects in particular, while tarnish is more often used for the oxidation itself.

What is more, patina carries a positive connotation, as something beautiful. Tarnish, on the other hand, is used in a negative sense, as something damaging and ugly.

You will also find patina used for bronze, rust for iron, and tarnish for silver: all three denote oxidation processes and their visual results.

There are many different interpretations of the word patina going around, and to add to the confusion, collectors may mean something completely different!

Patina in ethnic jewellery: what collectors also mean by it

Usewear. Very often, the word ‘patina’ is used for something else entirely in the world of ethnography and collectors.

You will find it applied to a particular type of wear: ‘usewear’ refers to the physical evidence of wear and tear that occurs over time as a result of the item being worn or used in its intended manner.

Patina, in this context, usually means the soft wear on a surface as a result of years of rubbing or handling it. Other types of usewear, such as dents and scratches in a piece of jewellery are not called patina.

Although patina is technically the result of oxidation in metal, you will also see the word used with regard to wooden objects in the world of ethnography.

Here, too, it means ‘usewear’: a wooden handle that has been grasped countless times, will have a beautiful, deep colour and a silky, smooth surface. The same goes for antique furniture where doorknobs, edges and surfaces may show discoloration and a softness after decades of use.

Old silver jewellery in Cairo's Khan el Khalili

Patina in ethnic jewellery: what it definitely is NOT

Dirt. Honestly. Dirt is not patina. Dirt is an external substance that accumulates on the surface of jewellery. Dirt is easily removable with gentle cleaning methods. It does not alter the metal itself, like oxidation does, but can obscure the intended aesthetic of the piece.

Cleaning (see 3 methods how to approach that) can effectively remove dirt without impacting the authentic patina that may have developed over the years. The jewellery you see in the gallery above is just dusty and dirty: this is not what patina looks like!

Patina in ethnic jewellery: how to check for authentic patina

So, as we have seen, there are two types of ‘patina’ you can inspect your jewellery for.

Oxidation – Many ethnic jewellery pieces are made from materials like silver, bronze, or copper, which can develop a natural patina or oxidized layer over time due to exposure to air and moisture. This patina is often uneven and may be more pronounced in areas that have been frequently touched or worn.

Polishing and wear patterns – Certain parts of the jewellery, such as clasps, hinges, or chains, may show signs of polishing or smoothing from repeated use. Additionally, wear patterns may emerge on surfaces that come into contact with the skin, clothing, or other jewellery pieces, indicating areas of frequent movement and friction.

You can inspect an item for traces of usewear by employing various methods:

1 Use your eyes: Start by taking a good look at the jewellery. Carefully inspect the surface of the jewellery under good lighting conditions. Identify areas that are likely to show signs of wear and tear, such as the back of a pendant or the inside of a bracelet, and observe these closely. Look for scratches, patina, polishing marks, and any other indications of use. Note: the jewellery needs to be free of dirt to do this – dirt may actually obscure exactly these details.

2 Magnification: Whip out the magnifier! Check for subtle details such as fine scratches or tool marks. Patina, both in the sense of oxidation and usewear, may have been artificially applied.

3 Feel: If you’re looking to see if a piece has indeed been worn for a prolonged period of time, stop looking and close your eyes. Feel the jewellery: does it feel worn and soft, or do you still feel sharp edges? Open your eyes again and check these places on the jewel.

Patina, whether oxidation or usewear, is often used as a factor in authenticating a piece. But there is more to that than patina: this article gives 5 tips on how to establish whether your jewellery is authentic!

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Sigrid van Roode

Sigrid van Roode is an archeologist, ethnographer and jewellery historian. Her main field of expertise is jewellery from North Africa and Southwest Asia, as well as archaeological and archaeological revival jewellery. She has authored several books on jewellery. Sigrid has lectured for the National Museum of Antiquities in Leiden, Turquoise Mountain Jordan, and many others. She provides consultancy and research on jewellery collections for both museums and private collections, teaches courses and curates exhibitions. She is not involved in the business of buying and selling jewellery, and focuses on research, knowledge production, and education only.

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