For five years, West London was my home, and Notting Hill, in particular, became my go-to area for discovering quirky, interesting spots with stories of their own.
I drifted between places like Notting Hill Arts Club , a creative hub for indie music, live art and DJs that famously hosted early gigs for artists like Lily Allen, and holistic wellness spaces like Bodyism , which focus on sustainable health, movement and nutrition rather than quick fixes.
As for dinner dates, they often began with candlelit evenings at Zephyr , a hidden Greek restaurant, and ended at Trailer Happiness , a retro-tropical cocktail bar that perfectly captures the kitschy 1950s tiki vibe, blending high-end mixology with a playful, relaxed atmosphere.
I don't live there anymore, but when I think about that chapter of my life, I'm always reminded of how much I miss that sense of discovery.
So when the invitation to visit an ethical jewellery shop on Westbourne Grove arrived, it felt like a chance to revisit that world while exploring the more conscious side of jewellery-making, beyond traditional techniques.
I went on a Friday afternoon, and as I walked past the shop's pink exterior, my first thought was, "How have I passed this so many times and never gone in?"
Inside, the space is calm, chic and carefully designed — a sharp contrast to the bustle outside — but it's the woman behind it who makes the stronger impression. Pippa Small , a London-based ethical jewellery designer, anthropologist, and human rights activist, who, when I stepped inside, greeted me wearing a layered collection of her own jewellery: delicate Navaratna amulet bracelets , pendant charms from India and Myanmar, and talisman necklaces, including tiny capsules containing a Buddhist eternal-knot amulet flanked by owls — one of which had babies at its feet — holding gem pebbles and the baby teeth of her twins, Mac and Madu. From pebbles to purpose Walking through the shop with Pippa, our conversation naturally turned to her early days and the origins of Pippa Small's inspiration.
"I suppose it started with a love of stones as a child," she says. "Every child fills their pockets with pebbles and rocks, but I really loved them — and I never grew out of it. I still find stones in the pockets of my jackets now, pebbles I've collected over time."
Eventually, her fascination became something more hands-on. As Pippa explains, "It turned into an obsession with stones — their stillness, their permanence. I began experimenting, drilling holes in them and using tumblers to shape them. I wanted to carry them with me, but kept losing them in my pockets, so I thought, if I make a hole, I can wear them."
That early instinct naturally led to jewellery, as Pippa notes: "It really came from asking how you wear a stone and keep it with you all the time."
From there, Pippa's path moved into anthropology. She studied at SOAS and Goldsmiths, later completing a master's in medical anthropology.
During this time, her focus shifted towards human rights — particularly for indigenous communities and minority groups — leading her to undertake a thesis in Borneo, within the Malaysian state of Sarawak, where she worked with traditional communities on land rights issues.
"That was the moment I realised I had a purpose," she says. "It felt like a real fight, something important. It brought together everything that mattered to me — the environment, women's rights, indigenous knowledge, biodiversity."
Eventually, she worked with human rights organisations across Thailand, the Philippines, and India, where she repeatedly encountered similar incidents.
"I would be working with communities, and they would be looking at the jewellery I had made while I was observing their craft," she says. "At first, it felt strange — almost superficial, and I felt a little embarrassed. But they were curious. They would ask how it was made, what it meant, and what it was worth. And I found myself asking them the same questions."
Adding to this, Pippa shares what emerged from those exchanges: "It became this connector. Across cultures and places, it was a kind of shared language. We all understood that objects carry meaning — cultural value."
That realisation led to a shift in thinking, as Pippa recalls: "At one point, I thought perhaps I could combine the two — working with these communities, but through craft. They were already making baskets, carpets, beads — and I wondered if there was a way we could collaborate and build something together." Afghanistan: Women leading the way That curiosity eventually came to life for Pippa, taking her to places like Afghanistan, where she has worked closely with artisans for nearly 20 years. Despite the uncertainty many have faced since the Taliban takeover in August 2021, she has remained committed to supporting the communities she has built over the years.
Her collaboration with the Turquoise Mountain Foundation has been central to this, creating training and employment opportunities while helping preserve traditional craftsmanship for a global audience.
As she explains, the impact of this work goes far beyond the objects themselves: "In Afghanistan, I've seen it very clearly through the women we work with. Learning to make jewellery has brought a sense of independence, but also joy, and even a kind of escape from difficult realities. When you're making something, you enter a different space — it allows you to step outside of what's happening around you.
"At the same time, design becomes a way of expressing those realities. Some pieces reflect hope — a sun coming out from behind a cloud — while others show more complex feelings, like a small figure inside a cage. These are personal expressions, but also reflections of their environment," she continues. "What has been just as powerful is the shift it creates at home and within communities. Women are contributing to family income, supporting siblings through school, and gradually changing perceptions around women working. Something as simple as learning a skill and earning an income can have a lasting impact — not just for them, but for the next generation." Colombia: Filigree mermaids and tamarind pods Her collaborative work extends far beyond Afghanistan. In Colombia, Pippa has spent recent years developing her latest project, Together Forever — a fully ethical gold-and-emerald collection rooted in local craftsmanship and sustainable practices.
The project began through conversations with the Association for Responsible Mining , which led her to Ana Sierra , an advocate for gold panners in the Chocó region. There, women work within the tropical forest using traditional wooden pans to separate gold from river gravel — an entirely eco-friendly process, with no chemicals or machinery.
For many, this work supports their families, helping fund education and healthcare while preserving a way of life they are determined to protect for future generations.
Rather than extracting resources at scale, these communities take only what they need, allowing the land to sustain them over time. It is a slower, more considered approach — one that stands in contrast to large-scale mining practices.
For this collection, Pippa paired the gold with alluvial emeralds sourced from the rivers of Muzo and Chivor, each stone gathered without machinery and long associated with renewal and new beginnings.
The designs reflect their surroundings — filigree mermaids, leaf-woven chains inspired by the forest, and forms shaped like cocoa and tamarind pods — and every piece is made by hand by Afro-Colombian goldsmiths, carrying forward generations of skill and tradition. Palestine: Where memory meets mastery As for Pippa's work in Palestine, her goal remained the same: to honour traditional craftsmanship while supporting the artisans who keep it alive.
In Bethlehem, where many heritage practices continue but remain at risk, she works with local makers at the Golden Zaytouna workshop — led by Tawfeeq and Samer Qattan alongside Nadira Al Araj — creating designs centred on the olive leaf, a symbol rooted in Palestinian identity.
Her work has also taken her to Jaba', where she collaborates with master glassblower Mohammad Twam , whose four decades of experience reflect both the fragility and endurance of Palestinian craft.
Together, they created the Azaz Collection — a series of handblown pieces inspired by ancient beads that have been worn and passed down through generations.
Fortunate to have met Mohammad in Pippa's shop while he was visiting London with his family, he shared the story of how he began working with glass: "It's actually been more than 40 years — around 44. I started when I was 13. It was a complete coincidence, completely unplanned. I went into a factory, saw the glasswork, and in that moment said to myself, 'This is what I'm going to do'. I loved it from the very first time I saw it."
Today, however, the craft is becoming increasingly rare. Mohammad explains, "There are fewer than 15 to 20 artisans still working in this craft in Palestine."
He goes on to describe a tradition that has struggled with limited visibility and a shrinking market.
Still, Mohammad notes, there are signs of change: "Now people are starting to recognise it more, working with artists and designers from across Palestine and around the world to make the craft more sustainable for the next generation."
Mohammad notes that making is a deeply immersive experience. "When I work, I feel like I'm in another world. I forget everything around me and focus entirely on what I'm doing."
He adds that each piece is shaped through "full emotion, full concentration, and complete focus."
Mohammad emphasises that, enjoyable as the craft may be, it is largely shaped by memory.
Reflecting on one of his most personal collections, he says, "When I was young, I used to go to Jaffa and bring back oranges to share with my family. Now I cannot go there, so I recreate them in glass. It's a way of showing my children what those oranges were like, and preserving that memory for the next generation."
Speaking of challenges, Mohammad explains that sustaining the craft remains complex: "The biggest challenge is movement — getting materials, products, and people in and out," and notes how restrictions can turn short journeys into hours-long obstacles.
Awareness of glassblowing has also historically been limited, and Mohammad says he had to work hard to introduce it to people.
Looking ahead, Mohammad's hopes are grounded in continuity. "I hope the craft continues and is passed down through generations. It should be practised with love and passion, not just for profit," he says.
Crucially, he emphasises that skill alone is not enough: "It’s 50 percent skill and 50 percent work — production and sales. Without both, the craft cannot survive." Alongside her work in Afghanistan, Colombia, and Palestine, Pippa collaborates with Syrian artisans living as refugees in Jordan, as well as with artisans in Myanmar, Bolivia, and Panama. Explore her jewellery online by clicking here , or experience the collection in person at her Westbourne Grove shop: 201 Westbourne Grove, London W11 2SB. Zainab Mehdi is The New Arab's Associate Editor and researcher specialising in governance, development, and conflict in the Middle East and North Africa region Follow her on Instagram: @zaiamehdi_ / @zainabmehdiwrites_