A hand in a linen sleeve holds a white Shiuli flower, wearing thin silver rings and a small silver flower ring.

Nice to meet you.

I’m Sheoli. I make silver jewellery. Simple things, mostly. The kind you put on in the morning and forget about.

A sketchbook with a flower drawing and a few small silver pieces on a workbench.

How did you start?

Slowly. I grew up around jewellery, and I always felt it shouldn’t walk into a room before you do. When I finally made something of my own, I chose silver. It felt honest.

A matching set of polished silver flower jewellery on a ceramic tray: a pendant, studs, a ring and a bracelet.

So what kind of jewellery?

Pieces for ordinary days. Most of us have one good gold necklace saved for weddings, and a drawer of things we never really wear. I make what goes in between. Real silver, light enough for a Tuesday.

Why not gold?

I love gold. But gold makes you careful.

I wanted something you’d stop being careful with. Wear it to work, to the market, on the way home. It’s meant to live with you, not wait in a locker for an occasion.

Fallen white Shiuli flowers with orange stems scattered on a pale stone step at dawn.

Where does the name come from?

The Shiuli, the night jasmine. It flowers after dark, fills the whole street with scent, and by morning it’s lying on the ground. Nobody plants it to show off. It’s just there, and you notice when it isn’t.

A hand writing in a notebook, wearing a fine silver flower bracelet and a slim flower ring.
At work
A woman across a cafe table holds her coffee, a small silver flower pendant at her collarbone.
Over coffee
A small silver flower stud with a fine drop, worn with a terracotta cotton kurta in warm evening light.
Evening, a cotton kurta

Who wears your pieces?

Women who go to work, meet a friend for coffee, and come home and change into a kurta. The same earrings for all three. Nobody has to dress up for them, and nobody has to think about them.

A silver flower ring resting on a closed book by the bed.

What’s your favourite piece?

Whichever one you forget you’re wearing. That usually means it’s the right one. You only remember it when someone says it suits you.

Where do you see yourself in five years?

I don’t really think like that. I’d like the people who find me to keep coming back. The rest will follow.

If you ever walk past a Shiuli tree in the morning, think of me.

See the pieces