When I speak to Lebanese jeweller Nada Ghazal, she is sitting in her recently opened Pont Street boutique in London, a world away from the uncertainty unfolding in Beirut. Her homeland remains under attack, and she is concerned about her family and staff at her boutiques and atelier.
Recent months have also been marked by profound loss. “We lost two members of our family this year,” she says quietly. “It is what it is, until a miracle happens for us.”
The story of Lebanon is deeply embedded in Ghazal’s jewellery, with pieces shaped by stories of joy, grief, hope and survival.
Her own creative journey began at a young age. “As a child, I spent a lot of time with my grandmother. She did a lot of crochet, and I was fascinated by the fact that hands could create something so beautiful,” she says. “I used to draw, play with clay, thread, beads and wire, making my own jewellery. It was a sense of self-expression.”
Even then, she had her sights set on something larger. “Even when I was eight years old, I imagined myself having a brand,” she says. “I remember visiting New York and telling my father, ‘One day you’ll see my work in these beautiful windows.’”
In 2024, that childhood wish came true when she marked her brand’s 20th anniversary with a pop-up at Bergdorf Goodman in New York. It was a profound moment. “I thought, why don’t you just sit, take a deep breath and celebrate that moment? You are in the windows of one of the most beautiful jewellery departments in the world.”
Back in the 1980s, however, with no formal route into jewellery design in Lebanon, Ghazal studied graphic design and fine arts at the American University of Beirut before embarking on a career in advertising in Dubai. It taught her the importance of narrative. “It’s not just about creating pretty things. It’s about having a reason for creating them, a story behind them.”
That storytelling has remained central to her work. Her debut collection in 2004, created after moving back to Beirut from Dubai, was titled Organised Chaos. “I came from a very organised place, and Lebanon was so chaotic,” she says, laughing. “There was paradox from the beginning.”
Despite everything, Lebanon continues to offer endless inspiration. “There is so much beauty, resilience and history. History and modernity exist together,” she says. “Lebanon taught me to find beauty in imperfection and strength in vulnerability.”
Those contradictions run through her jewellery. “My jewellery is bold, yet feminine. It is edgy, but sensual. There is a lot of paradox in the jewellery.” The diamond-dusted rounded facets of the Malak collection, for example, celebrate the many sides of femininity, while the petal-like spirals of Pop of Hope were inspired by hopes of a better tomorrow.
Her design process rarely begins at a desk, instead emerging gradually from journals, sketches and fragments of feeling. “I never say, ‘It’s time to design,’” she explains. “I write a lot about what I’m feeling, what I’m going through. For me, feelings have shapes and forms.”
A line drawn in the margin of a notebook, or a piece of clay shaped absent-mindedly during a meeting, can become the starting point for an entire collection. Her latest, Whispers of Joy, was born during a period of intense emotional upheaval.
“At the beginning of this year, I felt very joyful,” she says. “I started drawing waves and soft forms. Then the war resumed in Beirut, and my lines changed. They became more uneven.”
Following the loss of close family friends in April, her designs darkened further. Yet when she returned to Beirut a month later, something shifted. “As soon as I stepped into the airport, I felt that joy again,” she says. “I thought: maybe it’s time to invite joy back into my life.”
Arriving at the workshop, Ghazal made an unexpected decision. Her team presented the almost-complete collection, but she realised the direction was wrong. “I said, ‘They look beautiful, but we’re melting everything.’”
Her team was incredulous. The collection was due to launch in less than a month in Las Vegas, but Ghazal was adamant. “‘I’m going back to February. I’m going back to the waves, the colours, the joy. We have two weeks, and we’re going to make it happen.’” The collection was completed at 4am on the day of the shoot.
The result is a series of fluid rings, earrings, bracelets and necklaces in matt 18k yellow gold, speckled with champagne diamonds, amethyst and yellow, orange or red sapphires. The effect is light and almost playful.
Such forms would not exist without the skill of her team, but craftsmanship, Ghazal believes, is about more than precision. “It’s important for me that pieces are made with love,” she says. “A craftsman is like a chef. Two people can follow the same recipe, but the person who loves what they do creates something different.”
Clients often tell her that her jewellery has a deep spirit. “It has a soul for two reasons,” she says. “One is that it comes from stories and feelings. The second is that it is made with so much love.”
Looking ahead, Ghazal hopes to establish jewellery education programmes in Lebanon, preserving a tradition that remains one of the country’s most important exports. She is equally ambitious for her own brand.
“I would like us to be one of the first names that come to mind when people think of buying jewellery with permanence,” she says. “Jewellery that you keep, love and pass to the next generation.”
It is an idea that feels increasingly resonant in a world of fleeting trends. “I would like to see the industry become more creative and less driven by trends,” she says. “I would like to be surprised.”
Yet for all the narrative Ghazal pours into her pieces, she recognises that their meaning changes once they find a new owner. “My stories are not really mine,” she says. “They belong to everyone. We all know joy. We all know loss. We all know hope.”
Perhaps that is why clients no longer ask about the theme behind her latest collection. Instead, they ask: “‘What is Nada’s new story?’” It is a question that seems to make her proud.
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