CHICAGO, AUGUST 2024 — THE JOURNEY OF A RING AND ALL THAT IT HAS BROUGHT FORTH.

In August 2024, we left Lyon with a seemingly simple mission: to deliver a piece of fine jewelry to Chicago . A mission that, on paper, could be summed up in a few lines. In reality, it transformed into an unforgettable, luminous, chaotic, and profoundly human journey.

A parenthesis that opened an essential chapter in the history of The Black Alchemy .

We arrived a little early at the Three Arts Club , with that slight stress that always accompanies decisive moments.

In the lobby, we thought we recognized our client's mother—whom we had never met before—who had been involved in the project and was accompanying him that day, though we weren't absolutely certain it was her. This hesitation is typical of anticipated encounters, where intuition precedes certainty.

Then we saw him arrive. He naturally walked towards her, confirming what we had felt: sometimes, you just know. A warm , immediate feeling, as if the journey could finally begin.

As we stepped forward to greet each other, a detail struck Sacha—tiny, but impossible to ignore. A flash of color, a pattern instantly recognized beneath our client's blazer. Not a word. Not yet. Chrystelle, for her part, noticed nothing at the time.

Then we sat down at the table, and that's where everything happened.

Chrystelle finally saw what Sacha had seen a few minutes earlier: the logo, the color, the obviousness . We looked at each other, one after the other, with that mixture of utter surprise and quiet amusement. You can't fake a coincidence like that.

It was at that precise moment — even before opening the case — that we decided to take out the bottle we had brought to celebrate this creation. It was absolutely obvious.

Because under his impeccable blazer, our client was wearing a Chartreuse T-shirt.

And what had we brought to celebrate the event? A bottle of Chartreuse VEP .

A pure coincidence. Perfect.

An incredible synchronicity.

The first burst of laughter came from there.

This moment allowed Chrystelle to simply emphasize the obvious: the emergence of a profound alignment, perceptible even before he had discovered the result of this creation shaped with him. Something perhaps invisible, yet present throughout these six months: in the fluidity of the exchanges, in the patience, the listening, and the shared trust.

Only then did the handover begin. The display case was opened, revealing Tulipa Flora under the soft light of the dome. Her eyes lit up, and Heather, her mother, was moved—a sincere, unique moment, made all the more vibrant by this twist of fate.

This delivery, though central to the journey, became a rare, almost intimate moment of connection . It was a way of saying that fine jewelry is not just about craftsmanship, but also – and above all – about encounters .

That same evening, we were invited to his home for an impromptu aperitif. American hospitality at its most authentic : simple, warm, and unpretentious.

That's where we met his partner — his future wife — and the evening took a completely unexpected turn.

We had to remain incognito , under the cover of an old French friendship: Sacha, presented as a photographer friend, and Chrystelle, a painter. Both supposedly met in Paris more than ten years ago, when our client was studying French and Impressionism there.

Around the famous bottle of Chartreuse we had just opened, the conversation flowed naturally. We talked about travel, art, music, everything and nothing, effortlessly maintaining this improvised identity. The exercise had something theatrical about it and was profoundly amusing—a surreal situation made perfectly fluid by the warmth of the moment.

Being present in their intimacy without revealing our true connection to creation was as strange as it was captivating , and it gave this evening a totally unique character.

Then we headed to a folk-country concert, a parallel event to the Lollapalooza festival to which our client had invited us.

A packed house, guitars vibrating, the energy of a crowd thrilled to be there. A suspended moment, almost cinematic. A unique alchemy . They, fans of the artist, sang the lyrics entwined.

The night continued in a speakeasy , discussing music, creativity, culture, and politics. It was the kind of evening that makes connections feel natural , as if this trip had been written long before it happened.

In this exceptional museum, we began in the room dedicated to ancient Greece . Chrystelle was amused to discover that, among all the period coins, the only one that was tiny and made of yellow gold came from the island of Lesbos , the ancestral home of part of her Greek family. A small, delicate nod to her roots, on the other side of the world.

We also had the chance to discover a temporary exhibition by Georgia O'Keeffe , which was absolutely exceptional. She's an artist that Chrystelle particularly admires, and owns several of her books.

There was, of course, the now almost ritualistic photo: Chrystelle 's hand holding one of her very first designs, created thirteen years ago and named Nymphéa , in homage to Claude Monet 's Water Lilies. A very pretty pastel green beryl, in perfect harmony with the very particular tones of Monet's work in the background.

After these three intense and magnificent days, our mission was accomplished.

We picked up an iconic Jeep Wrangler and hit the road for a two-week trip around the Great Lakes .

At 11 p.m. (5 a.m. French time), our phone rang very loudly. A deafening alarm .

Our studio was being burglarized .

We saw everything live on our security cameras. On the other side of the world.

In a matter of minutes, everything collapsed . It was impossible to do anything.

Just helplessness, incomprehension, anger .

We spent a sleepless night trying to manage the emergency from the other side of the Atlantic.

Where just the day before everything had been absolutely idyllic, we found ourselves devastated, living one of our worst nightmares.

The next day, exhausted, we hit the road again.

Heading north, along Lake Michigan to reach Rapid River, Michigan.

The fresh air, the miles, the vast landscapes did their job: restoring some order to the mind.

The Rapid River cabin resembled a secret retreat for contemporary trappers: raw wood, thick silence, still lake.

Exhausted, we tried to find some rest , a semblance of sleep, but worry took up too much space to let us actually close our eyes.

And after more than ten years of building everything with our own hands — the work, the energy, the will, the heart put into every detail — to have seen it all falter in a few minutes was something profoundly brutal.

Exhausted, but determined to move forward, we hit the road again.

The fatigue was heavy, but the beauty of Lake Superior forced us to breathe a little more deeply.

But the evening brought the second disaster .

We have learned of another break-in at our studio.

The security guard put in place after the first burglary to secure the premises had left his post to get something to eat. The premises had been left unattended. Another break-in. More losses.

Two disasters in 48 hours, 7,000 km from Lyon.

The question of returning arose. Seriously. With tears and exhaustion.

But we decided to stay. To continue . Because stopping wouldn't have fixed anything.

Thankfully, our immediate family handled the situation with unwavering responsiveness and support, for which we are deeply grateful . Awakened in the middle of the night in a state of panic, they immediately set off on the road for over an hour and a half to get there as quickly as possible.

Upon their arrival, it was necessary to assess the extent of the damage, secure the areas covered in glass, evacuate what could be evacuated, and then urgently move as many belongings as possible to safety.

The night continued with constant vigilance over the premises, necessitated by the second incident, before undertaking an even more extensive relocation in the following days. This was compounded by managing the safety work and two trips to the police station to file complaints on our behalf.

We continued on to Sault Ste. Marie , crossed the Canadian border, and spent the night in a typical American motel.

Then the road took us to Sudbury , Canada, to visit Chrystelle's childhood friends.

A family of rare kindness .

A house situated on a lake.

Paddleboarding, swimming, seaplanes taking off and returning like in a movie, neighbors on jet skis, endless forest.

A moment of total respite.

A restorative and caring interlude.

Canada in all its emotional power.

The empathy of our loved ones will remain etched in our memories. Forever.

They offered us exactly what we needed: an emotional refuge.

Thank you to them, from the bottom of my heart.

Following this almost surreal interlude by the lake, we hit the road again with our friends to reach the family home near Toronto . Lisa 's sisters and mother were waiting for us there. The house was deeply filled with memories: it was within these walls that Chrystelle , as a child, had twice stayed for several weeks at a time with her family. A house imbued with joy, sharing, and a rare sense of closeness.

Chrystelle 's parents and those of the family were friends; her sister and brother were the same age as Lisa 's sisters, and this long-distance friendship had long seemed like a dream.

And yet, despite the miles and the years, when we met again, everything was unchanged. For some of us, twenty years had passed without seeing each other, but it was as if we had only parted the day before. Once there, we were once again surrounded by immense empathy after recounting what had happened to us a few days earlier: so much kindness, gentleness, and support. Thanks to this, we were able to fully enjoy our stay in a profoundly comforting atmosphere.

We laughed a lot, especially thanks to Christine 's dog, a huge Great Dane, straight out of a cartoon. From morning till night, with its impressive size, it desperately tried to catch a tiny squirrel perched on the roof of the house. The scene repeated itself endlessly and left us in stitches, almost dizzy with laughter, it seemed so unreal and joyful .

This trip was also marked by a very special moment: we had the privilege of delivering Cody 's wedding rings, the younger sister's. A few months earlier, her partner had entrusted us with the creation of his engagement ring , and it was with immense emotion that we presented their wedding bands this time. Seeing the three sisters and their mother discover the rings as they opened the box, understanding their symbolism, and feeling how their story took shape in these rings was a profound and shared joy .

We talked about everything: intimacy, marriage of course, motherhood, life paths sometimes fragile, difficult, sometimes luminous. Powerful , personal, natural exchanges, as if time had never created a distance between us.

We also looked through photo albums from that memorable year when they came to live in France, sharing the same primary school, daily life, laughter, and carefree days. These images transported Chrystelle back to a lighthearted, happy, and incredibly funny time, fueled by the joie de vivre and boundless imagination of their mother, Christine , such an exceptional, funny, and creative person.

On our way back down to the United States, we passed through Toronto, visited Niagara Falls, and then slept in Madison, Ohio , in a former scout camp restored to host events and weddings.

A vast, perfectly maintained park, a small, elegant cabin, a museum dedicated to American scouts. An incredibly beautiful, deeply inspiring place.

The evening had a special sweetness, almost timeless . The sun was setting behind the fields, casting a golden light on the red facade reminiscent of old American films.

We chatted for a few minutes with our hosts, who were surprised and delighted to welcome two French travelers lost in the middle of Ohio .

The tranquility of the place, the simplicity of the conversations, the crackling of the fire pit… everything contributed to the feeling of being at the heart of a living painting. A warm, unexpected interlude that offered us one of the most soothing moments of our trip.

Finally, there was that morning. As often happened during this trip, we had breakfast outside. At the far end of the clearing, in an almost sacred silence, an animal appeared.

A young stag , with magnificent antlers, approached to browse peacefully on the leaves and shrubs at the edge of the woods. He remained there for several minutes, tranquil and majestic , as if offering us his presence. This appearance, both simple and profoundly moving, was of rare beauty, a suspended and infinitely rewarding moment.

Last night before heading to Chicago for our return flight to France. A lovely little cabin, tucked away near Waterford Mills , close to Goshen, Indiana.

A minimalist yet soulful place, perfect for mentally writing the end of the journey.

A silent interlude.

A gentle way to close the loop.

Finally, we headed back to Chicago , dropped off the Jeep, and returned to the airport.

Tired, soothed, enriched.

And convinced that this trip would remain one of the most memorable of our professional and personal lives.

This journey had begun with a ring.

It continued with encounters, dramas, landscapes, silences, laughter, kilometers, and a great deal of beauty.

This journey was a study in contrasts:

fine jewelry and the dusty road,

museums and motels,

profound joy and vulnerability,

creation and resilience.

We were struck by the kindness, hospitality and politeness of the people we met throughout the trip, whether in the various Airbnbs, in restaurants and bars, on the road, whether they were Americans or Canadians.

We found there what every journey contains within it:

A way to better understand who we are, and why we do what we do.

Tulipa Flora was delivered to Chicago . But this journey has given us much more.

And the story is only just beginning .