Something Lost, Something Found

As we embark upon a new year, I always like to take time to reflect on the one we’re leaving behind—what was lost, and what was found in the process of living, creating, and showing up as an artist.

When people hear the phrase something lost, something found, they often associate loss with regret. But over the past year, I’ve come to understand loss in a very different way. For me, something lost has meant releasing attachment to old ways of doing things. It has meant practicing the art of letting go—sometimes gently, sometimes with real effort—of what no longer serves the creative process.

Getting lost, I’ve learned, can be a necessary part of finding your way forward

This past year at Lulu Designs, we let go of a number of things we once did out of habit or expectation. Some of those changes happened quickly, others more gradually, but all of them opened new doorways. What emerged was a deeper understanding of how we want to work, what we want to make, and why we make it.

One of the biggest shifts for me was stepping away from the traditional fashion calendar. Designing collections around seasons, trends, and constant “newness” simply doesn’t align with the kind of artistry we practice. What truly brought meaning to our work last year were the moments of connection—working closely with our retail partners, welcoming clients into the shop, and going on custom journeys with people celebrating milestones like engagements and anniversaries.

Those longer, more involved projects taught me something important. After 25 years of doing this work, the mental and physical demands of producing large collections on a tight cycle were leaving me feeling overwhelmed and scattered. What brought me peace and harmony were the quieter moments: experimenting at the bench, refining a design, having an unexpected aha moment, or creating something deeply personal for someone else.

Toward the end of the year, during one of our larger industry moments, I had a very clear realization. As much as I love the artistic challenge of presenting work in that setting, the physical and emotional exhaustion that followed no longer filled me up the way it once had. I could feel, in a very honest way, that the scale, the build-out, and the intensity of that approach were no longer aligned with how I want to work.

What I recognized in that moment was not a loss of passion, but a shift in values. I was being asked—by my own body and intuition—to slow down, to let the work speak for itself, and to release an older model that belonged more to the fashion world than to the quieter, more deliberate jewelry practice I’m committed to now.

Letting go of that model allowed me to see something new.

What I found was clarity.

I was reminded of a personal mantra that has guided me for years: Sat Nam, a Sanskrit phrase that roughly translates to “truth is my identity.” Through meditation, yoga, and quiet reflection, I’ve learned to release what doesn’t resonate with that truth—including unrealistic expectations, pressure to produce at a certain scale, and the idea that more choices somehow equal better work.

As we move into this next chapter, our focus is shifting toward jewelry that can be cared for, cleaned, polished, and worn for years to come. We are returning to solid metals—silver, gold in all carats, and our signature bronze, which has been the backbone of our collection since the first major rise in metal prices back in 2008. These materials invite a relationship. They ask to be lived with, not discarded.

Equally important is the storytelling behind the work. Many of our designs are deeply personal, inspired by my own meditative journey and the meanings I return to again and again. In the rush to keep up, I haven’t always taken the time to share those stories fully. This year, that changes. Through our blog, our emails, and our social spaces, I want to invite you into that process—to share the mantras, the symbols, and the intentions that live within each piece.

One of the questions I’ve been sitting with is how to create jewelry that holds high value while remaining accessible, especially as metal prices continue to rise. What keeps coming back to me is the understanding that I already have what I need. Creativity doesn’t require constant newness. It often asks us to revisit, reimagine, and refine what already exists—old pendants, stones collected years ago, ideas waiting patiently to be brought into the light.

What we’re choosing now is simplicity. Fewer designs, offered with intention. Collections centered around process, meaning, and ideas—not seasons. Jewelry that feels like a rite of passage, something sacred you wear as a reminder of your own truth.

In letting go of speed, excess, and expectation, I’ve found a renewed sense of alignment. A return to what matters. A quieter, more intentional way forward.

That is what was found.