When the concept of beauty first crept into my mind, it was because I didn’t feel that way about myself. Before that realisation, my soft, round tummy was a source of delight as I begged for tickles. My albino white hair and pale skin were normal. My stick-like calves were normal. My thin lips were normal.
As I became aware of beauty, I remember studying my mother, wondering why I didn’t look like her. My mom is the type of beauty who effortlessly silences a room. She is always the most stylish, the most elegant, the most athletic and the smartest person in any room. I wanted to be like my mom. I wanted to look like her and turn heads like her. But when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see beauty or feel beautiful.
Jewellery was different. When I was nine-years-old, I was given an amethyst ring set in sterling silver. The moment I placed it on my finger, a spell was cast on me more powerful than all the fairy dust in Pixie Hollow. There was jewellery in my life before, and a lot of jewellery since, but this moment is cemented in my head because it was the first time I understood how jewellery could make me feel beautiful and powerful. Forget about Prince Charming, my fairytale was paved in gold, gemstones and all that sparkled.
Because I didn’t like my body, I didn’t invest in clothing, choosing to focus on the basics instead: jeans, t-shirt, black everything. I learned quickly that changing my earrings and/or rings made me look completely different—albeit not always fashion-forward. As my jewellery confidence grew, I learned how to build my jewellery staples, how to push beyond my comfort zone and how to reinvent my style with each season (but all rather safe in hindsight).
HOP ACROSS THE POND
Then this American girl moved to London and my safe little life in safe little Denver, Colorado changed. I thought Denver was a cosmopolitan city and trips to Washington D.C., New York and LA made me sophisticated, but I quickly realised that my sense of style was 10 years behind Europe. I felt as out-of-place as Dorothy first landing in Oz, so I returned to my safety and lived in jeans, trainers, black knitwear and jewellery.
Jewellery was once again my armour, making me feel strong as I navigated London streets, dropped my ‘zee’ for ‘zed’ and learned about London fashion from What Not to Wear’s Trinny and Susannah (my second style gods after my mom). I was clumsy in the beginning, but London soaked in through all the cloudy and wet days. Fifteen years later and I’m more London than Denver, but I haven’t lost the Yank twang (nor will I ever).
Age has been kind to me. I feel strong and confident. I no longer look in the mirror and spot the flaws—they’re there, I just choose to focus on the good. I am fuelled as much by busy London streets as by whatever beach I can sit on in absolute silence.
People ask why I entered such a competitive market. My answer is simple: I didn’t have a choice. Jewellery is a burning passion that cannot be silenced. It’s part of my identity as I remember myself at age 9, the amethyst and the first feeling of beauty and power. Just owning jewellery wasn’t fulfilling enough, so I decided to start making it and advising women how to style it. If I can make one person feel beautiful, that’s all the incentive I need to continue. Of course I want to make millions of people feel beautiful, but I’m happy to start small and build one person at a time.
Jewellery never judges, it doesn’t know your dress size or your age, it lasts forever (at least the good stuff) and it instantly transforms style.
If you’re wondering about the name Becs B, it’s part my childhood, part strength and part beauty. It’s about being benevolent. It’s about being bold. It’s about being who you are and who you can become.