The light is turned on and off by hand with a small pull switch built directly into the socket, a modest everyday gesture that gives the piece a warm, hands-on tactile quality that no touch-plate or smart bulb can ever quite replicate.

It brings back the tactile, considered feel of older lighting from an era when every fixture asked for a small physical interaction to come alive: the tiny satisfaction of the click, the weight of the brass in your fingers, the sound and pause of the ritual itself.

In a bedroom or a reading corner, that small daily gesture becomes a way of marking the transition from day to night, turning the fixture into something you actively engage with rather than something you simply consume.

The bell shade is moulded from tinted glass with a series of fine vertical ribs running from top to bottom, each ridge cut cleanly and evenly so the entire surface reads sharp, deliberate and precisely worked rather than approximate.

There are no rough edges, no waves in the ridges, no visible seams where the mould released: the glass sits with the kind of quiet, restrained precision usually reserved for higher-end European decorative glassware, and holds that precision at every angle.

Set against the polished brass swan-neck arm and canopy, the shade takes on an unmistakably chic character, the warm golden metal framing the transparent coloured glass and lifting the whole fixture into refined, quietly luxurious territory rather than the generic industrial-farmhouse register.