I was scrolling through one of those "ultra-fast-fashion" sites the other night—you know the ones, the names sound like a sneeze or a panicked text message. I saw a pair of earrings that looked suspiciously like something a human might wear, and they were priced at three euro. Three. Euro.
You can’t even get a decent coffee for three euro. You certainly can’t get a piece of jewellery that doesn't promise to turn your earlobes a festive shade of "toxic waste green" by Tuesday.
It got me thinking about why anyone bothers with me when the internet is basically a firehose of cheap plastic crap. And look, I get the temptation. We’re all tired. We’re all skint. The "Add to Cart" button is the only dopamine hit some of us get between the school run and the 11 PM existential crisis.
But here’s the thing about buying from a giant, faceless warehouse versus buying from a woman with a pair of pliers and a glass of bubbly:
1. I actually exist in three dimensions. When you buy from me, the "logistics centre" is my kitchen table. There aren't any drones. There’s just me, probably wearing a jumper covered in sawdust, swearing at a jump ring that won't close. Your jewellery has been handled by someone who cares if the stone is straight, not a robot programmed to hit a quota of ten thousand units an hour.
2. My stuff won't dissolve in a light drizzle. Those fast-fashion pieces are designed to last exactly as long as a TikTok trend. They’re "disposable." But jewellery shouldn't be disposable. It should be a tiny bit of armour. I make things like Gilded Gander and Disco Dolly to be lived in—to survive nights out, messy breakups, and the general indignity of being an adult. They won't end up in a landfill before the month is out.
3. You’re not funding a billionaire’s space hobby. When you buy from a small maker, you’re basically paying for my kids' drama lessons or, let’s be honest, a slightly bottle of red. You’re keeping a real, live person in business. You’re saying "no" to the beige, mass-produced machine and "yes" to something that actually has a bit of heart.
Buying cheap is a fever dream. You wake up with a drawer full of tarnish and regret. Buying real is an investment in your own sanity and style.
So, if you want something that’s been birthed with care (and a fair amount of Irish sarcasm), you’re in the right place. If you want something that costs less than a bag of chips and will likely give you a rash... well, you know where to find the sneeze-sites 💜
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