ethicalweddings.com

The Proposal was a fairly lack-lustre affair. We had both been ill with a vicious flu-style bug, and off work for about two weeks. I was beginning to think I would never be well again, and if Toby whinged about feeling crap one more time I was going to kill him with my snot.

He started talking, as he often does, about having babies, to which I replied there would be no babies until a) he stopped smoking b) we were married. He thought about it for a while and then said, “so shall we get married then?” and I said, “shut up”, and he said, “no really”, and I said “shut up” and he said, “no really” and that went on for a while.

When I realised he was serious I immediately made him phone his mother and tell her so he couldn’t back out the next day. Two months later, I have a ring and we have a venue and we even have a vague date. He now claims he was delirious when he asked, but the ring: she speaks otherwise!

The ring was the first big thing we wanted to do. It was obvious to both of us there would have to be an element of ethical-ness about the proceedings, and there was no way I was going to wear a ring of dubious provenance. We wandered around the Lanes looking in windows but nothing was inspiring us. The choice was vast, but no one appeared to be doing anything even slightly right-on.

I had a part-time job in a jewellers when I was studying (ha!) for my A levels so was well aware of the waste and pollution associated with the trade. A book I read recently about the spread of AIDS in Africa had also highlighted to me that supporting the gold and diamond industry was also to support human rights abuses which are not just as simple as one man in one mine having a hard time, but which radiate throughout all of society and impact upon us all.

As we looked I became increasingly uncomfortable with the idea of a whole new ring made just for me when there was so much already out there, so we started looking at second hand rings. Then I became even more uncomfortable with the price tags. It’s not that I’m tight with money, it’s just I’ve never really bought into the whole idea of retail therapy. Spending lots of money makes me really really stressed. Swapping and bargaining, on the other hand, is excellent fun.

So we were at a bit of an impasse, when my mother offered me her engagement ring from my father. They were divorced about 400 years ago, and it had been sitting in her jewellery box collecting dust since then.

It was bought in Hatton Garden some time in the 70s, so we have no way of finding out its history, but for us the balance is that we are not using any resources to create something new, or spending any money to create a demand, we are just using what is already there.

It turned out to the perfect solution. Neither of us had any worries about it being bad luck because of my parents failed marriage (is success only measured if you make it till death does you part?), it is shiny enough to appeal to my magpie-like tendencies, and it is the making of a new family heirloom which we can pass on to whichever of our children get married first. If Toby ever stops smoking, of course.

Sarah 
Rocks Magazine