My great-grandmother Netty died in June 2005, aged 99. I was four. That evening, my grandmother called us grandchildren into her living room and opened what looked like a small treasure chest. Out spilled her sparkling jewels. ‘Take whatever you want,’ she said. ‘She’d have wanted you to have them.’

I grabbed three things: a pair of glittering earrings, a silver bracelet and a gold Star of David encircled by a delicate band touching each of the star’s points. At four, I only cared for the earrings. The rest I tucked away for ‘less special’ occasions.

At 16, I found the star again, hidden in my jewellery box. Remembering my great-grandmother Netty, it felt significant – almost necessary that this should become my new necklace, my staple piece. Now, I’m 25 and I haven’t taken it off since.

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