I’ve been thinking about pearls lately. Not the shiny kind you see in magazines, but the ones tucked away in old jewelry boxes. The ones that carry stories, and maybe even a little contradiction.

As a jewelry designer and the founder of SOLO jewelry, I spend a lot of time thinking about how pieces like pearl necklaces and gemstone jewelry actually live in real life, not just how they look. I design colorful gemstone necklaces and modern pearl necklaces meant to be worn every day, layered, mixed, and lived in.

It’s funny how jewelry can say so much about the world it comes from.

Back then, to me pearls felt like they belonged to a certain kind of woman. Pearls were neat, polite, and quiet. They went with twinsets and station wagons and the idea of being “proper.” My Italian grandmother, who spoke with her hands, used broad gestures, was expressive, and never shy about telling you what she thought, wasn’t that woman. Pearls weren’t her. They were from another world entirely. A world I admired from a distance, but didn’t really recognize myself in.

That’s why it always struck me as odd that she had a strand of pearls tucked into her jewelry box, right next to her religious medals and a few single clip on earrings that had lost their match. She never wore them. They just sat there, a little yellowed, a little tangled, like a souvenir from a world she didn’t visit.

She spent her days in the kitchen, a dish towel always draped over one shoulder, the smell of tomato sauce all around her. She was funny, sharp, and impossible not to love, even though she spoke her mind. The pearls didn’t fit her. They didn’t match her rhythm.

And though I sometimes aspire to be that polished type, the one who moves gracefully through the world, hair smooth, voice calm, it’s just not me. I’m expressive. My hands fly when I talk. I don’t own a diamond because I know myself, and I know I would somehow pop it right out of the setting within a few days.

So when I set out to design my own version of a pearl necklace, I knew it couldn’t be that kind of pearl necklace. I wanted something that felt more like real life. More like the women I know. More like me.

I wanted to bring in color. Energy. A little contrast.

My take on the pearl necklace uses chunkier baroque pearls, each one slightly imperfect and full of character. Between them, I add hits of color using Czech glass in tones like hot pink, red, black, or blue. That contrast shifts the entire feeling. It keeps the pearls from feeling too proper and gives them a more modern, wearable edge.

At the clasp, I often add something unexpected, because those small details are what make a piece feel personal.

One of the things I care most about when designing jewelry is how it actually gets worn.

You can wear these pearl necklaces on their own and let them be the statement. But I especially love them layered. Mix them with colorful gemstone necklaces, add gold chains, or attach a charm to the clasp.

Layering takes something that might feel traditional and makes it feel like your own.

There is no one right way to wear a pearl necklace anymore. That is the point.

Maybe pearls don’t need to whisper. Maybe they can feel bold, a little imperfect, and a little unexpected. Maybe they can reflect the women who wear them, expressive, layered, and full of life, just like my grandmother, and just like me.

SHOP SOLO PEARLS HERE