From a Boy Scout Badge to Managing the Timeless Glamour of Verdura

This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

The New York Sun

When Ward Landrigan bought the fashionable Verdura jewelry company, he got much more than he had bargained for.


He assumed he was buying the famous name, scant inventory, and perhaps a few hundred designs created by the master jeweler Fulco Santostefano della Cerda, Duke of Verdura.


Instead, he was astonished to be presented with a portfolio of tens of thousands of exquisite watercolor renderings of fanciful flower arrangements, serpents, unicorns and other subjects, all intricately designed in precious and semi-precious stones. It turns out that the Duke of Verdura was quite an artist.


That creativity, combined with considerable wit and sophistication, led Mr. Verdura to become a darling of the wealthy social circle in which he moved. Arbiters of style like Babe Paley, the Duchess of Windsor, Diana Vreeland and Linda Porter, wife of Cole Porter, eagerly conferred upon Mr. Verdura not only their approval but their friendship and their business.


Coco Chanel, the epitome of chic, gave Mr. Verdura his start as a jewelry designer during the 1930s. She was a great fan and muse; innumerable photographs show her wearing her favorite Maltese cross cuffs and other signature pieces.


Mr. Landrigan’s route to the ownership of Verdura is a little less glamorous, hinging as it does on his early ambition to amass Boy Scout badges.


Scouts at the time were awarded badges for acquiring after-school jobs. In Mr. Landrigan’s home town of Newark, N.J., the only position available was sweeping up at the local jewelry shop.


For several years, Mr. Landrigan worked part time for the jeweler – a stint which serendipitously showed up on his resume years later when he was at Parke Bernet. Within a very short time of his joining that firm as an accountant, Sotheby’s bought the smaller auction house, and Mr. Landrigan was tapped to lead the combined jewelry departments. He was 24 years old.


Mr. Landrigan, a quick study, got up to speed, taking night courses at the Gemological Institute of America and being tutored by some of the old timers in the department.


Soon he was able to distinguish one stone from another, and, more importantly, what was special from the run-of-the-mill.


It was during these years that Mr. Landrigan first became aware of the work of the Duke of Verdura. In 1967 Sotheby’s was asked to sell a collection of Cole Porter’s cigarette cases. It was Linda Porter’s custom to commission a box to celebrate the opening of each of her husband’s new plays.


A number of these glamorous cases had been designed by Mr. Verdura. One, for the opening of a musical version of “Around the World in Eighty Days,” depicted the cover of the original Jules Verne book, etched in three colors of gold. Others commemorated the openings of “Kiss Me Kate” and other shows.


They were works of art, and made quite an impression on Mr. Landrigan, whose job it was to prepare the auction catalog. Though he sought help from the fabled jeweler, the two never actually met.


In 1973 Mr. Landrigan left Sotheby’s to start up his own company, brokering jewelry and selling important pieces on consignment. Coincidentally, Mr. Verdura announced his retirement. Mr. Landrigan made overtures about acquiring the company, but they were rebuffed by Joseph Alfano, Mr. Verdura’s long-time manager, who had taken over the business.


It was not until 1984 that Mr. Alfano finally agreed to sell the business. Curiously, he would not let Mr. Landrigan see the portfolio of designs until after the deal was consummated.


Only then did he reveal the enormous legacy of drawings and paintings, which were stored in four large plastic bags such as those used to dispose of leaves. One of Mr. Landrigan’s first tasks was to reproduce and preserve these treasures, which are now stored safely in a vault.


Mr. Alfano stayed on for a few months, introducing Mr. Landrigan to clients and vendors. The company was producing less than $1 million a year in revenues: the brand had faded in the years following Mr. Verdura’s retirement. There were three employees, including the new owner.


However, in 1987 the magic returned. Sotheby’s held a much publicized and well-attended auction of items from the estate of the Duchess of Windsor, including a large number of Verdura pieces. Tens of thousands of potential customers were introduced to the Verdura look, and Mr. Landrigan’s investment began to pay off.


A second generation of social sophisticates began to sport Verdura pieces, charmed by the jewels, and their new owner. Mr. Landrigan began a careful and tasteful broadening of the company’s profile. For the first time, conservative ads appeared for Verdura, the company opened new sales outposts in Bergdorf Goodman and in Palm Beach, and eliminated the need to make an appointment to visit their twelfth floor showroom, newly ensconced at 745 Fifth Ave.


The buzz grew. These days the “ladies who lunch” crowd is back to wearing Verdura brooches on their Bill Blass suits. The look is not for everybody. Those more interested in advertising their financial status are more likely to head for Graff or Harry Winston, where large diamonds are more the order of the day.


The Verdura look is still whimsical, colorful, and ornamental. Many one-ofa-kind pieces are expensive, and sell for more than $100,000. Others featuring semi-precious stones are available for considerably less, and are still dazzling. The gold Maltese cross bracelet, for instance, set with amethysts, peridot, pearls, and diamonds, sells for $21,500. A signature three-stone ring with the same stones is available for $8,500.


Today the company fancies itself the last of the “private” jewelers operating in America. Customers can come to the showroom and pore over the design books, order a special new piece or ask to have a special stone cast in a Verdura setting.


This personal encounter is not popular with some women, who imagine being trapped in the showroom by aggressive salespeople. Indeed, Mr. Landrigan claims that his greatest challenge is getting customers to come to the 12thfloor showroom.


Certainly, his biggest challenge is not a lack of opportunity. The company today produces less than 3% of the archive designs. They could launch a dozen new pieces each year and literally never run out of new merchandise.


Moreover, in 1998 Mr. Landrigan bought the archives of a Parisian named Suzanne Belperron. This designer, whose work also came to light with the Windsor sale, created a more modern look, working in the 1930s through 1950s.


At present, Mr. Landrigan and his son Nico, who recently joined the company, are working on a book about Ms. Belperron. They hope to publish this work concurrent with a reintroduction of her work. This process, which mimics the approach taken with the relaunch of Verdura, will likely take some time, though hopefully not the twelve years spent on the Verdura book.


In the meantime, father and son will gently broaden the Verdura presence. This Christmas the showroom is busy with husbands buying earrings and wives buying cufflinks such as those designed for Cole Porter, called “Night and Day.” Perhaps in this frantic time they are also buying a little of the throw-it-away glamour which surrounds the Verdura name. That is valuable at any price.


The New York Sun

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