The boutique generate misty dreams of; Narcissi by a mirror surrounded with seashells, placed infront of delicate necklaces of withered pansies, souvenirs of the 1950s ‘made in USA’, haphazardly magicspell book rings with an ivory skull overhang a broche with a shaman’s head sculpted in schist with coral feathers. Lydia Courteille amuses herself, she chains the teeth of warthogs, she weaves the spiders’ cobwebs with diamonds and baptizes her collections with lyricism and game; “The Pirate’s Fiancée” or “Cocaine” because when worn their stories are revealed through the depths of the stones. These precious fine and fun stones, bought throughout the world, are engraved and set in her workshops, eagerly awaited by the belles of Paris, for whom Lydia Courteille knows by heart their lapidary fondness.

The key to this art is pleasure, intact since the 80s when she began, as she still, almost eagerly, with sparkling eyes and a smile, opens the washed-out silk jewel box of an finery from an Empire wedding in pink topazes. Like a girl that rummages and plays with a methodical curiosity, she is pert since childhood, as she used to collect small stones, schist slate, and garnets on the rivers of the Yeu island. At the time, she would flirt with the supernatural, devote a strange passion to Christ and read ‘Sciences and Life’, her father’s monthly review. She learnt geology and became a biochemist, fault of becoming an archeologist.

One day, her wristwatch falls, and she will go beyond the jewelers to have it repaired. Since then, she follows her instinct, gives way to her Father Christmas-like desires, of knighthood, original sins and jeweled objects like one of her pieces, a Buddha, half-baby half-fetus curled in a lotus flower, and oddly beautiful.

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