Regalia Impératrice
An emperor's green at the heart, ringed in ice · the emerald that all the diamonds were chosen to serve.
Light, set by hand.
Beneath a dome of sapphire, a flying tourbillon turns inside a cage snow-set with three hundred and eleven brilliants. There are no dials in the ordinary sense · the hours are read across a firmament of stones, each cut to catch the room and answer it. The engineering is not hidden behind the jewels; the jewels are the engineering. Every setting is worked by a single hand, under the loupe, in silence.
An emperor's green at the heart, ringed in ice · the emerald that all the diamonds were chosen to serve.
Wholly paved, without pause. A crown that keeps no colour but its own returned light.
A single line of pigeon-blood rubies, laid like a vow across the wrist.
Nothing here is bought by the parcel. Stones arrive loose, are graded by eye against the piece they are intended for, and most are sent back. What remains is set by hand into gold worked to hold light rather than merely carry it. We keep the numbers small on purpose.
Brilliants of graded diameter laid without visible metal · the surface reads as continuous frost.
Cases and cages cast, then hand-chased so every claw disappears beneath the stone it holds.
A single crystal drawn into a cupola, anti-reflective on both faces, edge-polished to vanish.
Every piece numbered, sealed and recorded in the vault. Provenance travels with the watch, always.
Regalia is not sold from a shelf. Leave a private address and the maison will arrange a viewing · one piece, one room, at a time of your choosing.