Lord of the rings

Valentine’s Day is upon us once again and who knows best about the ultimate gift than Chelsea jewellery designer, Theo Fennell. Annie Deakin caught up with him to discuss Elton John, the rights and wrongs of marriage proposals and being in touch with his feminine side

‘I am pretty much gay,’ teases maudlin jeweller Theo Fennell, before adding, ‘without the sexual persuasion to be honest. Other than fancying women, I am pretty much gay.’ Overt displays of loyalty and affection, so frequent around Valentine’s Day, often reduce him to tears. Being so in touch with his feminine side is unsurprising; by understanding what makes women tick, he can sell jewellery.

The dapper designer looks rather like a well-dressed cowboy or a strapping Viking – all shaggy blonde hair, Californian-tan and big aquamarine-blue eyes. Although a married father-of-two, the gay tendencies are there; his bosom buddy is Sir Elton John, his jewellery is flashy, iPod is pink and second-rate pop songs make him cry. ‘I am easily affected; various things press the ‘blub’ nerve. The moment the overture of a musical starts, I have to be carried out.’

Fortunately, business is thriving and Fennell, 57, is chirpy, rather than tearful, when we meet in his cavernous office above his Fulham Road flagship store. It is exciting times for his eponymous business, best known for its trademark crosses and gobstopper-size gems which adorn the necks of the Beckhams, Naomi Campbell, Elizabeth Hurley and The Rolling Stones. Last December, he appointed a new chief executive, Pamela Harper, who was instrumental in transforming Burberry into a world luxury brand. Will she ‘do a Burberry’ chez Theo? London is sitting up and taking notice of the flamboyant store that bought us the silver marmite lid.

At the core of Fennell’s dazzling designs is jewellery as an emotional investment. ‘Wherever you are, you are probably within 20ft of a lost piece of jewellery that has broken somebody’s heart,’ reminds Fennell. However, England, where chocolates, champagne and flowers are de rigueur, is not a nation of spendthrift romantics during Valentine’s season. ‘Their European counterparts and Russians tend to go for a more exotic, baroque approach,’ he explains. Where money goes, Fennell follows, hankering after international custom. He has concessions in Dubai, Dublin, Hong Kong, Moscow, Kazakhstan, Barbados, the Maldives and Bahrain. The US and Far East are next in line.

Fortunately, there are enough oligarchs wooing ladies in London for his cheeky Art Collection (a pop art play on ‘heart’) to sell like hot cakes. Using a heart as a blank canvas, the shape has morphed into strawberries, half-bitten apples, ladybirds and features diamond wings, spider webs, snakes and arrows. ‘We have some young kids and old farts like me designing in the studio; the combination can be quite potent.’ An 18ct white gold pave ruby and diamond devil Art pendant will set you back £9,250, peanuts for Abramovich or Elton. Less financially crippling are his limited edition Valentine Marmite lids (£145). Trouble is, they sold out on day one.

Fennell’s solution, to the minefield that is buying jewellery for one’s partner, is to do it together. ‘Trying to surprise somebody can go horribly wrong,’ he drawls in a husky voice that hints at a hedonistic past. Love, or rather exquisite sparklers, does not conquer all. ‘There have been occasions when the girl has said no to marriage after her engagement ring has been bought. That is always slightly depressing.’ Especially when the man hangs on to the ring. ‘He might keep it on the off chance that he bumps into someone else.’

‘The way a couple approach the buying of the ring can be a very telling point of their relationship and their future marriage. Occasionally the first real row is during the ordering of the ring.’ Playboy David Coulthard played safe by buying two rings from Fennell before proposing – one with a huge diamond, one more subtle. She chose the whopper. ‘But doing it together is very much the best way because the compromise that is marriage can start with the ring. It’s better than walking out with one of them biting their lip. I think it would just be a ghastly thing for someone to resent the money spent on an engagement ring.’

When he proposed to his wife of 30 years, Fennell was let off lightly. Louise was 19, he was 25; they had been dating for three months. ‘I had absolutely no money then,’ he remembers, adding somewhat unconvincingly, ‘very little now.’ The son of a soldier, Fennell enrolled in Byam Shaw School of Art after Eton. His portraiture was not the hoped-for success, nor were the ‘dire’ 80-page book or pop songs he wrote. Working for a silversmith, he found his calling and in 1982, opened his eponymous shop which has mushroomed into an international brand.

Soon after their engagement, Fennell showed Louise two heirlooms offered by his mother. ‘She put both rings on, said they were lovely and fell asleep leaving me going… how do I explain that it was only meant to be one? I was too frightened to tell her that she couldn’t have both which is a great pointer to the way in which marriages continue, obviously.’

For many years, Louise wore both rings before Fennell replaced the original ruby with a hefty, more bling diamond. Eyes lighting up like the glistening semi-precious stones on his desk, he gleams, ‘It was just a bit more Duke of Buckingham than chambermaid.’ So he pimped up her ring after making his millions? I jest. ‘It wasn’t really a mark of success,’ he snuffles seeming embarrassed, all ruddy-cheeked. ‘It was purely having never paid for an engagement ring and as a jeweller, I felt it was about time that I coughed up something.’ Fair point.

He proposed in the King’s Road restaurant Melita’s (now 151), where he used to play his guitar on Thursdays and watch films on Sundays. ‘The day I proposed, we were probably watching something like Brief Encounter, something suitably weepy that would have taken away any resistance that she might have had.’

Their first date was at the Chelsea Rendez-Vous which, like his old Fulham Road haunt Pellegrino, has since taken last orders. Empty restaurants make him sob so he eats in busy Sophie’s Steakhouse with his elegant daughters Coco, 19 and Emerald, 22. They now party harder than their mellowed father who, once a wild barfly, has been sober for a decade. When dining with friends, it’s off to Tartine on Draycott Avenue (‘Nicholas, who owns it, is brilliant’). His flashy but notably loyal comrades describe him as a wonderful mimic who strums Honky Tonk Woman on one of his eight guitars. Elton John hosted his 50th birthday party at his Cote d’Azur villa.

Hanging out with A-list friends, who parade his beguiling trinkets, boosts business. But celebrity endorsement has been bastardised. Unlike most fine jewellery houses, Fennell refuses to lend pieces or pay celebrities in exchange for publicity. ‘We don’t do the red carpet and catwalk thing.’ He knows it can backfire; Kelly Brook, Sophie Anderton and Lindsay Lohan have all lost loaned bracelets, worth thousands of pounds, from rival jewellers. ‘Elton was fantastic, not just because of the celebrity endorsement but because of the fact that he commissioned pieces and he bought things.’ Rather like Saatchi launching an artist, Elton sang loud praises about Fennell when a fledgling designer. ‘To be able to say that if you see somebody wearing our jewellery, it is because they have bought it, is a much better endorsement than anything else.’

So, his clients, be they Naomi Campbell or Elizabeth Hurley, must always pay to be dripping in his diamonds. This very secret is the jewel in Fennell’s crown.

www.theofennell.com