A couple of years ago I bought a vintage gold chain, prompted initially by style considerations.
One was the fact I wear so many fewer accessories – ties, handkerchiefs – despite still loving them as works of beauty, and of craft. Unfortunately they don’t say what I want to with clothing anymore – which is a product of both the way society has changed and I’ve changed myself. We’ve written about this tension before here, and about wearing handkerchiefs less here.
A chain as a piece of jewellery doesn’t offer the same options for design and expression, but it does appear occasionally, pleasingly, inside the line of an open-necked shirt, or on the back of the neck when wearing a crewneck or T-shirt. It is something decorative in the same area of the body.
That appearance of a chain at the back of the neck was another factor for me, this time in terms of what flatters me.
I love wearing T-shirts and crewneck sweaters on their own, but I’m always aware that they’re not the most complimentary thing. I have a relatively long, slim neck and I know collared shirts will always flatter me more. They frame the face and lead the eye towards it.
This effect has become less pronounced in recent years as I’ve bulked out (I’m pretty much one chest size up from 10 years ago) but on the flip side, becomes more pronounced as you age and everything becomes a little less firm.
The nice thing about a chain is that it provides a point of focus on the back of the neck, almost like another T-shirt collar. I’ve used neckerchiefs to achieve the same thing in the past, but that’s a slightly more dandyish style and not one I always want.
Other factors in my decision were the fact that I like jewellery, but find it hard to wear it in ways that aren’t too bold for me. (I wear an occasional cuff or bracelet, but something like the turquoise rings a few friends wear feel too much.)
And I used to wear a chain when I was a teenager, which came back to me as soon as I started trying new ones. This did feel like me – on some half-buried psychological level.
But what chain to get? Diving headfirst into this rabbit hole, one of the things I realised was that the main factors were width and length.
Chains for men don’t vary in style as much as for women, but in common with other jewellery (or glasses) a millimetre here or there can make a difference. Chains range in width from 1mm or 2mm up to very chunky 6mm or 8mm – though by that point it’s a very different look.
Research online also proved quite limiting, and it was seeing options in person that brought everything into focus. I would highly recommend doing so if you can; most high streets still have a jewellers of some sort, even if most of the selection is women’s.
The best range I found was at Michael Rose in the Burlington Arcade, and I ended up having good conversations with Michael there and other staff. They were very knowledgeable and friendly, and I think I’ll do a second piece next week on Michael’s opinions about vintage jewellery and my chain in particular. After 30-plus years of doing it he has a few.
In person it became clear that 2.5mm to 3mm was a good width for my chain – not too delicate, definitely there, but not too bold or chunky either.
Next the length. This is driven largely by practical considerations. I didn’t want my chain to come swinging out of my shirt, but I do like to always undo two buttons – it just seems like a more flattering ‘V’ shape, not tight and buttoned up.
For that to work, but the chain not be super-long, something around 25-26 inches seemed good on me. Again, trying chains in person made this more concrete.
Another common length for a chain is something that hangs visibly in the open neck of a shirt, and is sometimes worn on top of knits and T-shirts. Lucas wears a chain in this mode and it is 24 inches – but bear in mind that he has a 17-inch neck and mine is 15.5, so that makes a big difference. Indeed height does too – it’s a question of ratios just like trouser rise or cuff width.
Lastly, the design of the links. When you look online you quickly understand the main types – belcher chain, box chain, curb, cuban, wheat, rope, figaro. There’s no point describing them all here, and the preference is largely a personal one, but my general advice would be to err towards the subtle and more masculine.
Curb chains have particular associations, but only when they’re big and chunky. Rope can look a little feminine and figaro a little fussy, but most others are nice. Once more, try them in person.
Mine is a variation on a box chain called a ‘mystery chain’ which means that it has steel links inside the gold ones, making it stronger. It’s an interesting detail that Michael said a lot of people don’t realise is there unless the jeweller points it out. Even many jewellers don’t recognise it.
Apart from the steel element, mine was 18ct solid rose gold – but a very subtle rose, less copper than most of the rose golds today. Being 18ct it cost just over £1000, which was about what I was looking to spend – this was an investment and something I was going to wear practically every day.
Now, the problem with this logical rundown of an article is that it suggests there’s unlimited choice with chains – that’s it just a case of working out what you want. In reality, vintage chains are not that common and getting rarer. They tend to be better made, more unusual and better value, but the supply is finite.
One thing jewellers often do therefore – and did in my case – is cut down old chains that were originally intended for something else. When you look at vintage pieces sitting on a bust in a jeweller’s window, some of them will be longer than they appear, because they were originally intended for things like hanging a woman’s cuff around her neck, or another piece of clothing.
Fortunately with me the one I liked was one of these longer pieces, and could be cut down to the length I wanted. Again, fortunately what was left was enough to sell separately – otherwise I would have had to pay for the entire length (and possibly make it into something else, if I wanted).
As for the pendant, this was a present from my wife, an old pocket-watch winder in rose gold with tourmaline and bloodstone on either side.
Why that? Thinking about it, I think it’s best to leave that out – something like this is personal, between the two people involved, and shouldn’t be overrationalised. The only important thing is it means something to you, and in my case it’s something people rarely see as well, that I keep close to my heart. Or rather close to my chest.
