Cartier and Indian Royalty: Lost Gems and Colonial Legacies
- Prajna ___
- May 9
- 10 min read
Snippet: Cartier’s ties to Indian royalty, dating back to the early 20th century, are marked by iconic commissions like the Patiala Necklace. These jewels, blending Western and Mughal influences, now sit at the crossroads of luxury, colonial history, and modern debates. Figures like Diljit Dosanjh bring this legacy into contemporary discourse, raising questions about cultural appropriation and ownership.
Cartier’s connections with the Indian princely states date to the early 20th century, when the French jeweller established a Bombay branch (1908) and courted princely clients during events like the 1911 Delhi Durbar. Jacques Cartier himself was "dazzled by the beauty of jewels encrusting Indian royalty" at the Durbar, and after that Cartier London enthusiastically indulged maharajas who brought family heirloom diamonds and gems to be restrung in Western-style jewels. The most famous commission was the Patiala Necklace (1928) for Maharaja Bhupinder Singh of Patiala which included 2,930 diamonds. Other examples were suites for the Nizam of Hyderabad and for the Maharaja of Nawanagar (Jamnagar). These pieces often blended Mughal‐inspired elements with Art Deco design. After Indian independence, many such jewels vanished or passed into Western collections. In contemporary discourse they have become flashpoints for debates on cultural appropriation and heritage restitution.
Key Historical Commissions and Fates
Few jewels suggest the drama of empire, excess, and cross-cultural trade like the Patiala Necklace. In 1928, Patiala Maharaja Bhupinder Singh commissioned Cartier to design what would become one of the most extravagant pieces of jewellery ever created: a cascade of five platinum chains, embedded with nearly 3,000 diamonds. Its centrepiece? A stunning 234.6-carat yellow De Beers diamond. But the necklace did not stay in India for too long. After independence in 1947, it disappeared probably whisked away in the chaos of a newly partitioned subcontinent. Decades later, in 1982, the central yellow diamond reappeared quite quietly at a Sotheby's auction, although the full necklace stayed missing. It wasn't until 1998 that Cartier chanced upon its empty framework in a second-hand shop in London. The maison undertook a partial restoration, filling in the gaps with replica stones. The restored necklace is now kept in Cartier's private collections and has made rare appearances in exhibitions, including Maharaja: The Splendour of India's Royal Courts at San Francisco's Asian Art Museum in 2012.
Not every one of these treasures was lost to the ages. In 1947, the Nizam of Hyderabad Asaf Jah VII ordered Cartier for a special gift to mark the wedding of Princess Elizabeth (later Queen Elizabeth II). Cartier delivered a necklace and tiara first designed in 1935, dripping in diamonds and grace. These family treasures are now in the British Royal Collection, worn by successive royals, including Queen Elizabeth and the Princess of Wales.
Equally evocative of the cross-cultural mix of Indian royalty and European luxury was the 1937 request by Maharaja Jam Sahib of Nawanagar. He ordered a bejewelled ruby and diamond necklace in Cartier's then-famous Tutti Frutti motif, a festive marriage of carved gemstones and Mughal-style design that would become the house's trademark. The same motif resurfaced in a sapphire version for American heiress Marjorie Merriweather Post. The original was subsequently recast into a finer piece and came to be famously worn by socialite Gloria Guinness in the 1960s.Each of these pieces tells a tale of collapsed empires, shifting allegiances, and the persistent allure of skill that spans continents.
Cartier’s “Indian Style” in Design
Cartier absorbed a range of Indian (and broadly “oriental”) influences into its creations. After the 1911 Durbar trip, Jacques Cartier and later his brother Louis studied Mughal art and Indian jewelry techniques. Cartier designers collected carved Indian gemstones and “apprêts” (fragments of older jewels) to incorporate in new pieces. The result was a distinctive “Tutti Frutti” motif arrangements of carved rubies, emeralds, and sapphires in floral or paisley shapes which broke with Western norms. As one authority notes, “bib necklaces and brooches” studded with carved rubies, emeralds and sapphires in natural shapes like leaves and berries became common in Cartier’s Art Deco repertoire. This was a departure from the diamond-garland style then popular in Europe Cartier even reinterpreted princely headdresses: for example, a 1937 Tiger’s Eye turban ornament combined a large brown “tiger’s eye” cabochon set in a fan of diamond baguettes fusing traditional Mughal forms with hard-edged Art Deco geometry.
This East–West synthesis was bidirectional. Designs commissioned by Indian princes also inspired Western pieces. For instance, Cartier’s elaborate Nawanagar ruby necklace was replicated for Western clients. It features radiating red gem clusters reminiscent of Indian motifs, yet Cartier soon made a sapphire version for American heiress Marjorie Post. The original ruby version intended for the Maharaja of Nawanagar was later shortened and worn by socialite Gloria Guinness in a 1966 ball.
In summary, Cartier’s “Indian-style” hallmarks included carved polychrome gems and exotic motifs (paisleys, sarpech turban crests, lotus flowers, etc.), often integrated into flexible Art Deco settings. The firm documented its sources extensively: Louis Cartier kept annotated copies of books like Owen Jones’s Grammar of Ornament and collected Persian and Indian miniatures and textiles for inspiration. Notable patrons even Europeans, embraced the style for example, socialite Daisy Fellowes famously commissioned Cartier’s Collier Hindou (1936), a spectacular multi-strand necklace “reconstructed from … carved sapphires, emeralds, rubies, and diamonds” in the Indian manner. Vogue called these jewels “barbaric” at the time precisely because they used Eastern carved stones instead of European-cut gems, yet they became among Cartier’s most celebrated creations.
Colonial Commissions And The Patiala Necklace
As mentioned earlier, Indian princes often sent their gems to European ateliers. One striking example is Patiala’s flamboyant ruler, Maharaja Bhupinder Singh, who in 1928 commissioned Cartier’s Paris studio to create an unprecedented jewel. The resulting seven‑row Patiala Necklace contained 2,930 diamonds (totaling about 1,000 carats), anchored by a 234.65‑carat yellow “De Beers” diamond. It remains “one of the grandest pieces of jewellery ever made”. The design fused Eastern and Western tastes: Art Deco style set the Indian gems, with rows of diamonds and enormous teardrop pendants borrowed from traditional Mughal necklaces. As museums note, many Cartier pieces of that era relied on gems from Europe’s colonies, Colombian emeralds, Sri Lankan sapphires, Burmese rubies and South African diamonds, yet the brutal colonial supply chains for these stones “are generally glossed over”. In short, the Patiala necklace embodied colonial-era luxury princely wealth, financed a Paris-made masterpiece, and resources from Britain’s empire were brought together in a single collar.
After Indian Independence in 1947, the necklace’s fate changed. By 1948, it had “mysteriously vanished” from Patiala’s treasury. Reports suggest the royal family broke it apart under financial strain. Decades later, fragments began surfacing abroad. The enormous yellow diamond was sold at Sotheby’s in 1982, and in 1988, a stripped‑down “skeleton” of the necklace was found in a London pawnshop. Cartier itself eventually recovered the remnants and spent years rebuilding them. Today, the reconstructed Patiala Necklace is owned and exhibited by Cartier. This history is a masterpiece made for an Indian king, lost in the turmoil of decolonization, then “rescued” by a Western house illustrates the colonial implications of these jewels.
Global Patterns: Cartier and Colonial-era Jewels
The history of the Patiala Necklace is far from a solitary one. Instead, it is part of a larger historical trend in which luxury houses like Cartier operated in colonized or politically sensitive regions, in which the dissolution of royal power often resulted in the dispersal of treasure houses once considered inviolable. Cartier, in particular, developed intimate relationships with princely states throughout India during the early 20th century, frequently charged with reworking traditional heirlooms into modern styles. Eventually, many of these gems or their modified versions surfaced in European or American ownership, frequently through private sales or celebrity auctions.
Take, for instance, the Patiala Ruby Choker originally created in collaboration with the royal court of Patiala. It was auctioned at Christie's in 2019 for nearly a million dollars, a stark reminder of how such ancient pieces have been commercialized in global markets. Christie's Maharajas & Mughal Magnificence sale in 2021 saw similar transactions, with several Cartier items linked with Indian royalty changing hands between high-end buyers.
These events raise problematic issues of heritage, right of ownership, and artistic repurposing ethics. Some telling examples add to the complexity of Cartier's position in these developments:
The Loss of the Patiala Necklace (India, 1928):
Commissioned by Maharaja Bhupinder Singh, this lavish necklace went missing sometime after Indian independence. Decades later, Cartier recovered fragments and re-built the piece this time with synthetic gemstones and mock materials. Though hailed as restoring a lost symbol, the move was also controversial due to the implications of copying royal items without preserving the original form and frame.
Nizam's Lost Jewels (India, post-1948):
With the annexation of Hyderabad into the Indian Union, many jewels belonging to the Nizam's court were dispersed. Some were said to have been produced or re-cut by Cartier prior to their reappearance in auctions or private ownership. The government of India and Nizam heirs have fought over possession of several such pieces, showing the unresolved tension surrounding colonial transfers of wealth.
Remodelling Mughal Gems:
Cartier and others also habitually incorporated historically Mughal-carved stones into Art Deco designs, divesting them of their historic spiritual or cultural significance. Critics have characterized this process as erasure, whereby sacred artefacts became commodities to fuel high-fashion interests suited to Western tastes.
The Tutti Frutti Collection:
Cartier's most ubiquitous style, the Tutti Frutti collection, was heavily influenced by Indian sensibilities about aesthetic design—colored gemstones, floral motifs, and emerald-carved pendants. And while these pieces were South Asian inspired, they rarely acknowledged their cultural source, becoming instead fetishized symbols of Parisian and New York excess.
Case of the Blue Belle of Asia (Sri Lanka, mid-20th century):
This massive sapphire disappeared in 1937 and did not resurface for decades at Christie's auction house in 2014. Though hearsay, the rumor of the complicity of Cartier in its former care has been passed on. The troubled history of the stone is characteristic of the overall task of tracking where valuable treasures moved under conditions of geopolitics uncertainty.
European Royalty and Redesigns (Europe, 20th century):
Cartier also purchased jewels from bankrupt or overthrown European monarchs. These gems were often broken up and remade for new high-spending customers, calling into question profiting from aristocratic misery and selling cultural icons under duress.
Cartier's presence was not confined to South Asia. The house also served royal clients in the Middle East and North Africa domains that were susceptible to regime changes throughout the 20th century. With monarchies in chaos, their jewels wound up in Western auction houses on a regular basis, usually separated from their historic past. Jewels commissioned by Persian and Egyptian royalties, for instance, have gone on to find new lives beyond their initial courts.
Cartier has taken incremental steps towards addressing this problematic past in recent years. The 2025 show at the V&A Museum illustrates how many of its signature pieces, such as the Patiala Necklace, utilized gems purchased from colonies such as Sri Lanka, South Africa, and India. While these instances mark a departure, critics argue that the luxury world is still in the business of beautifying Eastern traditions without stripping them of their context.
The Met Gala Controversy: Diljit Dosanjh Vs. Emma Chamberlain
In May 2025 the Patiala Necklace unexpectedly became a flashpoint in cultural debate. Punjabi superstar Diljit Dosanjh paid homage to Patiala at the Met Gala by dressing in Mughal-style turban and robes referencing the Maharaja’s court. His stylist requested to borrow the actual Cartier necklace for the event. Cartier declined, citing that “the necklace sits sealed in a museum” and is not available for loan. Instead, Diljit wore a custom replica by an Indian jeweller Golecha. The refusal at a moment when Diljit’s look was a clear tribute to his heritage provoked outrage among South Asian fans and commentators.
The furore was fuelled by a striking contrast: in 2022, U.S. YouTuber Emma Chamberlain a Cartier “ambassador” had worn a Cartier diamond choker that was part of the Patiala Necklace to the Met Gala. That occasion was presented as Cartier “restoring” a lost jewel for a high-fashion event. Social media users pointed out the double standard: one lamented, “Emma Chamberlain wore the original in 2022 talk about cultural appropriation!”. Critics saw an implicit message that a Western influencer could wear this colonial-era treasure with impunity, while an Indian star even one explicitly honouring its origin was told “no.”
Commentators have analysed this through a postcolonial lens. Some note that Cartier’s narrative remains one of Western stewardship when Chamberlain donned the choker, the story was “a jewel from a looted past now safely nestled in European elegance”. By contrast, had Diljit worn the actual necklace, the story would shift from brand pageantry to questions of restitution and ownership. In effect, Cartier avoided a potential spectacle of reclamation that could “raise uncomfortable questions: Why was this necklace lost? Who looted it?”. As one analyst put it, Cartier “defined its aesthetic and built its very empire” by co-opting Indian and Islamic designs as its own, yet here it maintained control over a piece of South Asian legacy. Many observers saw in this episode the dynamics of cultural erasure, Western luxury heritage benefiting from Eastern art, and the descendants of that heritage kept at arm’s length.
Conclusion: My Take
As I pieced together this story, what struck me the most wasn’t just the diamonds or the decadence it was the silence around the origins of these treasures. Growing up, I’d heard about maharajas and their legendary wealth, but I never really questioned what happened to those jewels after independence. I assumed they stayed in families or faded into private hands. I never imagined they’d resurface decades later in red carpet appearances or as display pieces in European museums often worn by people with no ties to their original culture.
The Diljit Dosanjh and Emma Chamberlain moment hit especially hard. Here was a Punjabi artist wanting to honour his heritage and embody a story that actually belongs to his community and he was told no. Meanwhile, a white influencer got to wear a piece of that very history at one of fashion’s biggest nights. That wasn’t just a styling choice. That was a statement, even if Cartier didn’t admit it.
To me, that moment symbolized how colonialism doesn’t end with borders or flags. It lives on in the decisions about who gets to represent history, who gets access to cultural symbols, and who doesn’t. It’s not about blaming individuals it’s about recognizing that these systems still shape who is seen as a rightful heir to legacy, and who is relegated to spectator.
I don’t think we should hide these jewels away. But I do believe that their stories especially the uncomfortable parts deserve to be told just as loudly as the dazzle. It’s time we start asking: who is allowed to shine, and at whose expense?
Sources
Map Academy. “The Curious Case of the Patiala Necklace.” MAP Academy, https://mapacademy.io/article/the-curious-case-of-the-patiala-necklace/. Accessed May 2025.
FAMSF (Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco). “Maharaja: The Splendor of India’s Royal Courts.” Exhibition Archives, https://famsf.org/exhibitions/maharaja. Accessed May 2025.
The Court Jeweller. “The Nizam of Hyderabad Necklace.” The Court Jeweller, https://www.thecourtjeweller.com/2020/02/jewel-history-nizam-of-hyderabad-necklace.html. Accessed May 2025.
Town & Country. “The Story Behind Cartier’s Tutti Frutti Jewels.” Town & Country Magazine, https://www.townandcountrymag.com/style/jewelry-and-watches/a35668977/cartier-tutti-frutti-history/. Accessed May 2025.
Sotheby’s. “Cartier’s Collier Hindou Necklace.” Sotheby’s Magazine, https://www.sothebys.com/en/articles/cartiers-collier-hindou-daisy-fellowes. Accessed May 2025.
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Economic Times. “Cartier Criticized for Giving Met Gala Necklace to Emma Chamberlain.” The Economic Times India, https://m.economictimes.com/magazines/panache/why-cartier-facing-flak-over-met-gala-appearance-of-emma-chamberlain/articleshow/91362286.cms Accessed May 2025.
India Today. “Diljit Dosanjh Wanted to Wear Patiala Necklace, Denied by Cartier.” India Today, https://www.indiatoday.in/lifestyle/fashion/story/diljit-dosanjh-denied-cartier-patiala-necklace-emma-chamberlain-met-gala-2022-1947564-2022-05-09. Accessed May 2025.
The Guardian. Sanghera, Sathnam. “Britain’s Museums Are Full of Stolen Goods.” The Guardian, https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2022/aug/16/britain-museums-loot-colonialism Accessed May 2025.
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