Christopher and I wear matching wedding rings. As a jeweller, I designed them for us when we decided to marry.
At first glance, they are simple and modern — but like most things that matter, the real story lives beneath the surface.
The design began with a date: 08–08–08.
The day we had planned to marry.
Each ring is set with princess-cut diamonds. Individually they read as clean, architectural forms, but together they tell a story. The diamonds symbolise the O of the date, and the spaces between them create the shape of an 8. When you look closely, those 8s begin to resemble an hourglass — time folding back on itself.
That felt right.
Because it took us ten years from getting engaged to finally getting married.
The date sounded like Oh Wait! — and so the design found its name.
In the end, though, our wedding didn’t take place on 08–08–08 at all.
Our original venue, Culzean Castle, cancelled, and we had to rethink everything at short notice. Standing there, with the words of Rabbie Burns never far away —
“The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry” —
it was the Brig O’Doon House Hotel that came to our rescue.
What followed felt less like compromise and more like alignment.
We married on the 1st of August, a day marked by a rare total solar eclipse. In the morning, the light faded and the sky darkened as the sun and moon crossed paths — a quiet, uncanny pause in time. By the evening, the clouds lifted, the light returned, and we were able to take our photographs in a completely different atmosphere.
There was a powerful sense that something significant was happening — that the timing of the sun and moon, and the timing of our wedding, were somehow connected.
I don’t believe there is a perfect time to get married.
But I do believe there is such a thing as the right moment.
A marriage isn’t about everything unfolding smoothly. It’s about having someone beside you through the unexpected — someone who shares the same experiences, the same interruptions, the same joy when things fall into place. Someone you can look at years later and say, “Do you remember that?”
That’s what our rings hold.
They don’t mark a fixed date or a flawless plan.
They hold waiting, patience, humour, resilience — and a moment when the universe seemed to pause, just long enough, for us.
That is why bespoke wedding rings matter.
When a ring is designed around your story — your timing, your personality, your sense of meaning — it becomes more than a symbol. It becomes a record of what shaped you, together.
No two stories are the same.
And no wedding ring should be either.
Do you have a moment — planned or unexpected — that you’d want your wedding rings to remember?
0 comments