In 1904, Brazilian aviation pioneer Santos Dumont complained to his friend, Jean Cartier, of the impracticality of using pocket watches whilst flying. Cartier’s answer to Dumont’s problem was the Cartier Santos wristwatch: a quartz two-tone timepiece, which now sits in a glass case for visitors to see at the Victoria and Albert South Kensington.
Maison Cartier set the standard for luxury and elegance in the early and mid 20th century. It was founded in Paris in 1847 by Louis-Francois Cartier, Jean’s grandfather, who designed the Maison’s most celebrated pieces: glittering anthropomorphic figures, orientalist Art Deco designs, sturdy platinum wristwatches and dainty enamel clocks – all made from the most precious stones the earth has to offer.
As the Maison grew throughout the 1920s and 30s, they began receiving commissions from royalty, Hollywood stars, and heiresses. Queen Elizabeth II wore the Williamson Diamond Brooch commissioned for her coronation, and Princess Margaret wore her sculptural diamond rose brooch for the same occasion. American heiress Barbara Hutton had her signature jade necklace commissioned by the Maison, now valued the most expensive ornament of its kind. Mexican film star María Felix ordered an emblematic snake necklace paved with two thousand four hundred seventy-three diamonds. Spain’s Doña Sofia wore a Cartier pearl and diamond tiara, now part of the Spanish crown jewels.
These are but a few society beauties who were deemed iconic enough to don the Maison’s jewels. Cartier first exploded during La Belle Époque: France’s answer to Louis XIV luxury without the moral degradation of monarchy. Much like William Morris’ arts and crafts movement in Britain, which democratised drawing-room beauty across social classes, the French version birthed similarly original and aesthetic-minded souls who prioritised universal beauty. Think impressionism and post-impressionism, coupled with newfound economic prosperity and a consumer class hungry for material stuff.
The Cartier displayed at the V&A is more than that, however. The first room in the exhibit is categorised by regions of the ‘Orient’ and the designs they inspired: Iran, India, China, and Egypt. This is the Cartier of cultural connoisseurs; women and men who had the world’s beauty at their disposal. Everything from Scarab beetle boxes encrusted with lapis lazuli to Chinese jade gobstoppers mimicking dynastical days of yore. There is a deliberate nostalgia to these objects, an undeniable power in possessing a piece of history.
The V&A exhibit draws viewers into the cultural frames of reference that inspired the early Cartier creators – they had the world’s amenities at their disposal. The museum presents the jewellery and its wearers as works of art; public personas who naturalised the exclusivity of the Cartier brand. But what gave these women the right to don such luxury?
Status seems to be the obvious answer. Yet if we consider Cartier jewellery as artworks, they are but a reflection of the society that creates it. The joie de vivre of La Belle Époque women came from new intellectual freedoms: the new woman was independent, curious, and fashion-conscious – she could foray to a department store or discuss Art Nouveau at a bubbling literary salon. They could freely be courtesans with a cosmopolitan identity working in the same sphere as men. As Cartier oeuvres trickled their way down to successive generations, they landed in the lap of the Elizabeth Taylors and Barbara Huttons of the world. Flashy, yes, but vivacious. What began with masculine functionality has morphed into feminine charisma, agents of cultural evolution in and of themselves.
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