Our story
Forty-five years at the bench. From a small workshop in a basement to a craftswoman sought after internationally, without ever changing the way she works.
The craft
I started at twenty. Today I'm sixty-five.
For forty-five years I have worked metal, and it has never been a pastime: it is the thing I have always known how to do best. The weight of a piece between your fingers, the exact point where a curve stops being clumsy and becomes right — these are things you don't learn on a course. You learn them by standing at the bench for decades.
At forty-five I got divorced
It was a hard time and I don't intend to tell that story here. I'll only say the part that matters: what put me back on my feet was going back to work.
Craftsmanship has a quality nobody explains to you until you need it. It asks for attention, all of it, and the moment you give it, it takes the place of everything else. It isn't a consolation: it is work that forces you to be present.
I started again from my hands. And my hands still knew exactly what to do.
At first they were gifts
I made the pieces for the people around me. My sister, my friends, my cousins in Switzerland, my relatives in Argentina — part of my family emigrated there long ago, and parcels have always travelled in both directions.
Then it left the house on its own
You receive a gift, you say thank you, and that's the end of it. Nobody asks you to make another one, and then another.
My cousin, though, wore the same bracelet every day for two years, and then asked me for a second one. No review is worth more than that.
Then people I had never met started writing to me, wanting a piece like their friend's. That's when it stopped being a family thing.
And by then my pieces had seen more places than I had. Keeping them within a circle of twenty people was a waste.
So I decided to sell them, and to make them available to anyone — not only to those lucky enough to know me.
From the basement to the rest of the world
The workshop is still the same: a bench, the files, the light coming in through the window in the afternoon. The only thing that has changed is where the pieces arrive.
Today Trevani ships to places I couldn't point to on a map. But the gesture is the same as with the first parcels to Argentina: someone opens a box, and inside finds something well made.
What I look for in a piece
Not the minimal piece that looks like everyone else's. Not the precious one you keep in a drawer and wear twice a year.
A full shape, a real weight between your fingers, a detail you only notice up close. And something you can wear every day, from morning to night, without having to think about it.
The most important piece of jewellery is the one you choose for yourself.
— Cinzia, founder
316L stainless steel with a PVD finish. PVD is not a gold plating that wears away: it is a coating applied in a vacuum, bonded to the metal. That's why the colour stays where it is and doesn't leave a green mark.
It isn't gold, and we don't call it gold. It's steel with a finish that lasts.