Strings that stopped being played
A guitar string is a working part. It stretches, it goes dull, it snaps mid-song and ends up in a drawer. Set into a ring, that same wound wire turns into something that reads almost like rope — a fine spiral catching light along the band.
The inlay here is real string, not an engraved pattern imitating one. You can see the winding. Depending on the design it sits in black tungsten, gold or rose gold tone, and in several of them it runs alongside whiskey barrel oak or meteorite. Wire against wood is a better pairing than it has any right to be.
Who wears them
Mostly people for whom music was never just a hobby. Couples who met at a show. Someone marking twenty years of playing. A gift for a partner who owns more guitars than shoes. It is also, quietly, one of the least common wedding bands you can wear.
All are 8 mm, comfort fit, in sizes 7 to 13, and every one arrives in a wooden gift box. Where engraving is offered it goes on the box rather than the ring — a name, a date, or a line of lyrics.
