The Adamas Woman
I want you to meet someone special to me…
Her name is Willow.
When you meet her, I know what you’ll be thinking: she’s the “cool girl,” the one who is advertised to all over social media these days. Hold that judgment when you see her because that is not where we’re going.
She’s the magnetic woman who walks into a room and doesn’t say a word, but she commands everyone’s attention. She is everything you wish you could be, even if that wish looks drastically different from day to day. I would know: she is the alter ego I’ve held for a long time. And now I want to share her with you.
Willow was not always this woman. And she is not “the cool girl.”
She was once the woman who stayed. Stayed because she thought she could fix it. Stayed because she thought she could handle it. Stayed because leaving felt impossible. Maybe leaving actually was impossible. Until it wasn’t.
She has known what it’s like to live inside a house that feels more like a cage. She has walked on eggshells so carefully that she forgot what solid ground felt like. She has been quiet when she wanted to scream. She has smiled when she wanted to run. She has convinced herself, over and over, that if she just tried harder, if she just gave a little more, if she just learned how to bend a little further without breaking—maybe then it would be enough. Maybe then, she would be safe.
But she was never safe. And it was never going to be enough.
So one day, she walked out the door and didn’t look back. Well – maybe she looked back a little – but she kept walking. Because she’s not the cool girl, she’s the girl who cares, who hurts, who wants it to be better – but remember, she’s us in the future. She picks herself up, above the hurt. And she moves.
She had nothing but what she could carry, and even that felt too heavy. She had no clear plan, only the knowledge that whatever was on the other side of leaving had to be better than staying. She was afraid, but she kept walking. She stopped a few times. Stood in place, tears streaming down her face, but she did not go back.
She did not start fresh. There was no clean slate, no blank page. This wasn’t “closing a chapter” onto the next. This was walking through fire, and managing to carry her journal out with her, half burned but still intact. She carried every scar, every sleepless night, every whispered insult and stolen moment of freedom. But she carried them forward.
Now, years later, she stands on the mountain she once thought would break her. She looks down and sees us – climbing, crawling, maybe barely standing at the base. Maybe it’s our first time down here. Maybe it’s our fifth. Maybe we did everything right and still ended up at the bottom. Maybe we shouldn’t have to be here again, but life doesn’t care about should or shouldn’t.
Willow knows. Because she is us. She is you.
She doesn’t boast about the fact that she’s a little further ahead on her climb. Maybe she’s in her cool girl matching climbing gear, taking a break to drink water. Maybe she looks effortless. But that’s just because we can’t see her scars from down here. We don’t know that she’s crawled up the mountain. She’s forged through fire, she’s been crushed and pushed back to the bottom. So maybe she looks cool, but maybe it’s only because she has climbed this same mountain a few times over. Maybe she looks like she’s at the top, but when we meet her, we see it’s only halfway. There is another ascent to climb. Or maybe, it’s finally time to grab the flag, ring the bell, and she is going to hold our hand as we make the victory trek down.
But first, we have to get to her. So we stare up at her, the effortless cool girl.
She does not offer soft encouragement or girlboss praise when we look up at her. She does not tell us to trust the process or to be patient. She throws down a gauntlet. She shouts down that she knows. And if she made it up, no maybe’s about it, we can too.
“Get up. Move.”
Move.
No one is coming to rescue you. No one is going to hand you the life you want. You build it. You claw your way up, one step at a time, with shaking hands and a heart still raw from the things you’ve had to leave behind. With burn scars just barely healed over, with scraped knees still bandaged, you move.
You don’t have to be fearless. You don’t have to be sure. You just have to move. It does not matter if that movement is just half a centimeter to the left to show signs of life. You just have to move.
She has learned, in the worst, and hardest possible way, that power is not something you wait for. It’s something you take.
She is the woman who finally looked in the mirror and realized no one else was going to save her. The woman who stopped waiting and started building. The woman who understands, only through lived experience, that legitimate, lasting power is not given. It is earned.
She walked away from the wrong relationship, even when it nearly broke her.
She left the job that drained her, even when she was terrified of what came next.
She stopped making herself small to make other people comfortable.
She started investing in herself like she was the best bet she’d ever make.
She did not just bounce back.
She burned everything down and built something better.
She didn’t rise from the ashes… she became them.
She moves through life with the quiet confidence of someone who has nothing to prove but everything to claim. She knows exactly who she is and what she wants. She does not rush. She does not apologize. (Well – she does, but she’s getting better about it!)
Her voice is steady, measured. She does not waste words. She does not need to be the loudest person in the room – when she speaks, people listen.
She is sharp, she is intentional. She knows how to read a room. She knows her place in that room, and she knows how to uplift those around her who aren’t getting enough attention. She knows when to lean in and more importantly, when to walk away. She knows that power is not about how much space you take up – it’s about how you fill the space around you, who you fill it with, and how you command it. How you command your own life, how you present.
She does not wear jewelry as decoration, as pure accessories. When someone asks her about a piece she has on, her answer is never that she picked it up for no reason, on a whim. It is a record of every battle she’s won. Even if that battle was hey – sometimes whims are okay!
So. What is Willow wearing?
Well – today, she’s got on a solitaire diamond ring that she bought herself – an upgrade from the last one that someone gave her (on her left ring finger because who cares?), and a fun, mixed metal stack on her pointer finger.
She’s wearing an antique starburst-carved bracelet, engraved with a date on the inside: the day she finally left, the day she started over, the day she knew she was free.
She’s wearing a pair of statement earrings, because if she’s going to take up space, she’s going to do it with style.
She doesn’t save jewelry for special occasions. She is the occasion.
She doesn’t buy things just to own them. She buys things that mean something to her. She’s not performative, she’s personally invested.
She chooses Adamas Studio because, like her, it’s unapologetic, built on integrity, and unwilling to compromise.
She buys from a brand that celebrates women who buy their own diamonds – lab grown (which she will talk your ear off about, of course) or pre-loved (just one more thing in her life she is reclaiming as her own).
She buys from a brand that refuses to play by outdated industry rules – a brand that recognizes that she is the end user and would never treat her like a little girl who should shut up and be grateful for the sparkly gift she’s been given.
She buys from a brand that embodies its founders and who puts their money where their mouth is: standing up for and behind survivors, training female artisans, and prioritizing sustainability.
She doesn’t wear jewelry to be admired. She wears it because she admires herself. She wears it with her jammies while on the couch because it makes her feel beautiful.
If you asked her what she wants other women to know, she wouldn’t give you some soft, comforting piece of advice. She wouldn’t tell you to “keep your head down, just trust the process.” She wouldn’t tell you that “good things come to those who wait!” And that it wouldn’t be ladylike to raise your hand.
She would smirk, lean in, and tell you the truth. No one is coming to hand you power. This one is on you, kid. You take it. You build it. And once you’ve got it? You own it. Because you know it is hard fought and more than well won.
She is not here to inspire you. She is here to challenge you – not taunt you, not push you too hard – but she is that little voice, that little flicker of light in the dark.
Get up. Move. Take what’s yours. Because it IS yours. Even if you don’t know it yet.
She IS a diamond. Indestructible. Forged through high pressure and higher temperatures.
She is unyielding. She is brave, she is beautiful, she is you.
And you – you are the Adamas woman. No matter where you are in your story, at the bottom of the mountain, staring at the ashen ruins, or just about to reach her outstretched hand on your way back up. We are right there with you, with Willow leading the way, just a little bit ahead of us.
Willow is not the cool girl. Neither are we! And if you’re not the cool girl either, but you want to be Willow? (We think she’s her own version of what true cool is anyway.) Join us as we try to embody her too. Because we’re not quite there yet. But we invite you, with us, to own your story. Forge it in fire, plant your feet on the ground, and wear your power.
The backstory:
When Gabrielle and Alice started building Adamas, they spoke a lot about The Adamas Woman. This is the text that Gabrielle sent Alice (at midnight, mind you):
“The graphic drawn diamond in the branding kind of reminds me of ice cubes. I have in my head like, ice, and metallics, and sharpness, contrasting with soft femininity. (It should not surprise you at this point that Alexander McQueen is my all-time favorite fashion designer and that Rodarte Gothic Fairy fashion show from NYFW last year was absolute tops.)
I’m picturing a woman walking away from a camera, down a gritty city street with a pristine huge crown dripping in diamonds tilted to the side, flawless blowout shiny long hair, in a Carrie Bradshaw style baby pink tutu that’s maybe a little bit torn, and spiked Louboutin boot heels. And that being the inspiration of a logo or design. The woman who does not need anyone to buy her a diamond. That being the kind of middle image – on one side, it’s the woman in the beautiful outfit and the perfect hair and the gauzy soft outfit who exists in a kind of harsh world without losing that softness. Then the other end of the spectrum is the same woman who is hardened from battle, whatever that battle may be. Like – it’s the same woman every step of the way. She can buy her own jewelry but is soft enough to accept it from others. She wears a crown, not just a tiara, it’s tilted to the side and it’s decked the fuck out in diamonds (as is she).
This is just – I don’t know, pictures in my head and doesn’t necessarily lead to a logo but I want the Adamas woman to be as formidable as the diamonds she wears.”
Then Gabrielle told Alice about Willow – that girl. Willow was Gabrielle’s alter ego online back when she was younger and in a bad relationship: Willow was the escape. She was Gabrielle some years in the future, strong and wise and with a past that was firmly behind her – lessons learned, a woman toughened. A woman indestructible, forged only through the most crushing of circumstances (kind of like, what? A diamond). Willow has served as that little flicker in the darkness over the years.
When Gabrielle found herself at the bottom of the mountain again in 2022, shoved off of it this time, starting again with far more against her, and far more that she had lost, Willow came back – in artwork, in inspiration. Alice wrote a book, being the Willow that she needed when she had to rebuild. We all have a Willow. Whether she has a name, a face, a backstory, or just a whisper of hope on days when that single centimeter of movement feels too much.