Wartski, a Mayfair gem, holds a trove of eccentric curios

Jewellery buyers head to London’s Bond Street for international superbrands such as Chanel of Paris or Tiffany of New York. But if they turn into Grafton Street, they find an incongruous alternative: Wartski of Llandudno.

The antique dealer, founded nearly 150 years ago by Morris Wartski, a Russian émigré and jeweller, was until the 1970s run from the Welsh seaside town. A London branch was added in 1911. Mr Wartski’s descendants own the business today.

Modern Wartski does not advertise, nor does it pay attention to public relations. But it made headlines this year with its discovery and sale of the lost “third imperial Easter egg” – one of 50 created by Carl Fabergé in the late 19th and early 20th centuries for the Russian tsars Alexander III and Nicholas II.

The third was among eight thought to be lost after they were sold by the Bolsheviks in the 1920s and 1930s, until it turned up recently in the hands of a US antiques dealer. He had tried – and failed – to sell it for scrap, before realising his acquisition might be worth more. A Google search led to Wartski’s experts in London.

In April, the imperial egg was exhibited at the shop for four days – the first time it had been seen in public for 112 years. To the surprise of staff, more than 2,000 people showed up.

“You can sit here for days and not much will happen, we are so slow and Edwardian,” says Kieran McCarthy, a director of Wartski and an expert on Fabergé. “Then all of a sudden, we had queues stretching towards Bond Street. People from St Petersburg and people from Tunbridge Wells, pulling up in Bentleys and getting off the bus.” By the time it was exhibited, the egg had a buyer in a deal brokered by Wartski for an undisclosed sum, reported in the Daily Telegraph to be £20m. Wartski did not confirm the sale price, but Mr McCarthy says the deal was worth “many millions”.

What makes buyers part with vast sums for such rarities? The answer, Mr McCarthy says, lies in the urge wealthy people have to mark their triumphs.

“Life is very short, and the more powerful and rich you are, if your presence and ego are going to be recorded, you do it through works of art. You live forever by your ownership of these objects.”

Collectors view and handle those objects in Wartski’s shop. Grade II listed and with a bronze exterior, it stands out among Mayfair’s glass-and-steel retail outlets. “It may [be] out of fashion, but it has credibility that transcends. And we like it,” says Mr McCarthy.

“Often shop owners see [listed status] as a burden,” says Catherine Croft, director of the Twentieth Century Society, an architectural conservation group. “But Wartski are genuinely interested . . . They [also] seem really interested in the stories behind the things they sell. I went round there to look at the architecture and ended up trying on tiaras.

“So many [Mayfair shops] are retro, would-be Regency or ‘historic-inspired’ façades,” she adds. “But Wartski’s shop is determinedly not-flash.” That reticence is reflected in a window display that shuns vast diamonds in favour of curios such as a jewelled stickpin featuring a devil’s face and a gold brooch in the shape of a kitten’s head.

Inside, 300 items of jewellery, goldsmiths’ work and glassware are displayed. As well as imperial Russian treasures, the business specialises in Saxon jewellery.

In the 20th century, Wartski was a cult destination for international collectors. The British royal family, Jacqueline Kennedy and Hollywood actors were among its customers.

Today, it sells to collectors, dealers and museums, including the British Museum in London and the Metropolitan Museum in New York. The shop, says Mr McCarthy, is a place for customers to learn about the items – few make spontaneous purchases. “Perhaps one every year; it’s very rare.”

Its clientele is international – “industrialists, royals, film stars, musicians” – and includes wealthy Russians. “We get historically minded [Russians] who are focused on [their country’s] past,” Mr McCarthy says.

Tensions in Ukraine are causing worry among international auction houses about this summer’s sales, amid concern that the fallout will deter Russian collectors. “So far, our communications with Russia haven’t [changed], although maybe we won’t notice until the summer, because that’s when Russians descend,” says Mr McCarthy.

Will Wartski ditch its association with Llandudno, where the shop doors closed more than 40 years ago? Morris Wartski’s nomenclature made sense when the then-wealthy resort was a holiday destination known as ‘the Naples of the north’. But is the faded town relevant today?

The Wartski business believes it is. “We are very proud of being from Llandudno,” says Mr McCarthy. “It’s an eccentricity . . . that allows the business to thrive.”