The fastest way to upend a forgettable outfit? Fasten one of the Vivienne Westwood necklaces for men at your throat. What starts as a simple chain turns conversational, on the Tube, under gallery lights, or halfway through an espresso on Old Compton Street. These aren’t shy trinkets content to loiter by the punch bowl.
Such necklaces do more than shine: they take and command the stage, with a dash of defiance.
An emblem with a passport
Vivienne Westwood’s orb is more than a logo; it is a mash-up of star charts and coronation regalia that has toured punk clubs, palace gardens and every postcode in between. On men’s necklaces the motif changes dialect. Sometimes it’s rendered as a skinny wire outline that floats against a cotton tee like graffiti seen from a train window. Elsewhere it becomes a weighty medallion, its crystal crust echoing disco strobes and street-lamp glare. Each version carries a faint accent of 1970s DIY rebellion, but the vibe shifts with scale: small orbs whisper, supersized ones broadcast at full volume.
Symbols of swagger and dissent
The design studio refuses to settle for a single icon. Skulls grin beneath lacquer, pocket-sized daggers dangle from curb chains, and even a humble safety pin graduates to centre-stage status. Each charm feels lifted from an East End market stall, polished on a Mayfair workbench, then released back into the wild. Humour keeps the cast cohesive: a slim phallic outline drawn in clean silver, or a miniature padlock that hints someone, somewhere, has the key. Whether worn solo or crowded together like badges on a denim jacket, these pendants turn history, protest and playful innuendo into wearable souvenirs.
Textures that flirt with light
Glossy rhodium, sooty gunmetal and softly brushed brass appear within the same line-up, daring you to break the “one metal only” rule. Crystals don’t behave either; they gather in sudden constellations instead of neat borders, catching flashes of phone screens and traffic lights. A single off-white pearl may hitch a ride beside oxidised links, puncturing any whiff of predictability. Nothing looks brand-new for long: intentional knocks, micro-scratches and variable patinas are baked in, so the necklace arrives with a pre-written anecdote.
Ways to own the look
- Morning commute – Pair a slim cable chain with an orb pendant under a merino crew-neck. The flash of metal at the collarbone substitutes for coffee when the train is late.
- Desk to dinner – Layer a blackened belcher chain over a crisp poplin shirt, two buttons undone; add a safety-pin charm for a sly nod to punk that HR can’t quite object to.
- Weekend wanderings – Throw a long skull necklace over a vintage football top and let it swing freely as you weave through market stalls
- Formal detour – Tuck a miniature dagger pendant inside a velvet blazer so it peeps out whenever you pour champagne. Tradition survives; boredom does not.
Whatever the setting, remember proportion. A broad chest can carry thicker links, while finer builds benefit from something narrower that still carries bite. Clashing lengths works too: one chain sitting just below the throat, another belly-button bound, creating vertical rhythm.
Made by many hands
Every necklace begins as a pencil sketch somewhere north of the Thames: a line on paper destined for metal.
From there, it becomes liquid, then fire, meeting molten alloy in a casting room. Once cooled, the transformation continues: links, clasps snapped open and shut with satisfying certainty, and crystals placed one at a time, each a deliberate flicker of light. The final polish is deliberately light, leaving microscopic swirls that signal human involvement. Perfection here is measured by personality, not sterility; a necklace should look capable of telling a few stories before you add your own.
Why bother in 2025?
Because a necklace is the easiest rebellion you can fasten before breakfast. It slips under jackets, over hoodies, into boardrooms and onto bar stools. It reminds strangers that there is more to you than an email address and a tap-out beep. Westwood’s take adds heritage without heaviness, injecting the wit of Carnaby Street into the most by-the-numbers dress code.