Who gets the ring when you divorce?

More reasons for a prenup.

Rings, necklaces and watches aren’t among the top priorities that clients ask me to deal with during the stressful period of break-up and divorce. However, the issue of who keeps the jewellery after a split is one that has proved troublesome for many UHNW divorcees, with emotional consequences that are often significantly more far-reaching than first imagined.

The issue is long contested and its legal origins in the UK date back to the 1870s, and the Married Women’s Property Act. This law presumed that any gifts of jewellery to a wife from a husband was "for the decoration of her person" and not hers to own.

However, after this act was abolished it was considered that a gift would remain the property of the recipient. This could only be contested if there was sufficient evidence that would prove an intention from the recipient to return the gift after an agreed period of time or change of circumstance.

Today, that notion stands true and was reinforced by law in 1970. This indicated that an engagement ring is presumed entirely as a gift from one person to another, unless there was clear intention that the ring would be returned at any point, for example if the ring was an heirloom. It makes you wonder what might happen to the Duchess of Cambridge’s engagement ring were she and Prince William ever to split.

What is an heirloom?

After making this point to clients, many ask the question of "How do I prove it’s an heirloom?" It’s a contentious issue, because the definition of "heirloom’" isn’t necessarily black and white. Further questions include, ‘Is a gift only considered an heirloom after a certain number of years or owners?’ and "Does an heirloom have to be old?"

In the circumstances of a split, steps should always be taken to safeguard your interests by obtaining proof that what you have been given by a family member is indeed an heirloom and can be traced by history of ownership.

This can be done by being the recipient of a note from the relative who gave you the heirloom, stating how it came to be passed onto them before it came to you.

What you do with your wedding band after divorce is entirely up to each individual. A growing trend, originating from the US, is to remould the ring and repurpose the band as a "divorce ring". Others request it to be melted down for use as another piece.

Like all divorce law, the division of assets is dependent on facts and leaves little room for negotiation. Therefore, always bear in mind the details of gifts given and received during your marriage and ensure your separation plans are adapted accordingly

 A pre-nuptial agreement, particularly in relation to family heirlooms that may have significant sentimental value, can take the sting out of asset allocation on divorce and help avoid any nasty surprises further down the line.

Amanda McAlister is Head of Family Law at Slater & Gordon

This story first appeared in Spears magazine

This is a story from the team at Spears magazine.

Felipe Araujo
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Hull revisited: What happens when a Brexit stronghold becomes City of Culture?

We report from Hull, to find out if you can replace the kind of nostalgia that led to a Leave vote with cultural investment.

At 75 metres long, the offshore wind turbine blade erected across Queen Victoria Square, in the heart of Hull, is a sculpture intended to mark a new chapter in the city’s history. For the next 12 months, Hull, a city of more than a quarter of a million people in the northeast of England, will be the UK’s City of Culture.

The 28-tonne blade hails from the local Siemens plant. The German technology company employs around 1,000 people in the area, making it Hull’s biggest single employer.

Seen up close in this context – laid dormant in the middle of a town square instead of spinning up in the air generating energy – the structure is meant to remind passersby of a giant sea creature. It is also, I’m told, an allusion to Hull’s rich maritime history.


All photos: Felipe Araujo

Nostalgia is a big thing in this part of the country. At one point, Hull was the UK’s third largest port but technology and privatisation drastically changed that. The battle over cod fishing with Iceland in the waters of the North Sea 40 years ago has also dealt a major blow to a region with a long and proud trawling tradition.

People here still talk about a bygone era when the fishing industry provided jobs for everyone and there was enough money to go around.

Fast forward to 2017, and the country’s new capital of culture is the same city that voted 67 per cent in favour of leaving the EU last June. Its new-found prestige, it seems, is not enough to erase years of neglect by a political class “too busy for commoners like us”, as one resident puts it.

“More than a message to Brussels, it [the Brexit vote] was a message to Westminster,” Paul Leeson-Taylor, a filmmaker born and bred in Hull, tells me. “For the first time in a long time people in Hull felt like they had the chance to change something, and they took it.”

But while speaking to people on the high street and hanging out with locals at the Community Boxing Club in Orchard Park, one of the city’s most deprived areas, there is one word that consistently popped up in conversation – more than any specific policy from Westminster or the much-hated rules “dictated” by Brussels. Foreigners.

According to official figures, Hull’s population is 89.1 per cent white British. Still, immigration is big on people’s minds here.

During my two-day stay in the city, I find myself being the only black person in most places I visit – I’m certainly the only black guy at the boxing club. So when someone begins a sentence with “I’m not racist but…”, I know a tirade on immigrants is about to ensue.

“There are just too many of them,” Nick Beach, an estate agent whose Polish clientele is a big part of his business, tells me as he is about to teach a boxing class to local children. Beach was born in Shepherd’s Bush, in West London, but has been living in Hull for the last 20 years.

“When I go down there these days and go into Westfield shopping centre, it is very rare you get an English person serving you now,” he says. “I just find it disappointing that you go into your capital city and you are a minority there.”

These are the much-discussed “left behind”, a white working-class community that has gained particular prominence in a time of Brexit and Donald Trump. Under economic pressure and facing social change, they want to have their say in running a country they claim to no longer recognise.

For Professor Simon Lee, a senior politics lecturer at the University of Hull, immigration is only a superficial layer when it comes to explaining the resentment I witness here. For him, the loss of the empire 70 years ago is still something that as a country Britain hasn’t come to terms with.

“The reason for us to be together as a United Kingdom has gone, so what is the project?”

As destiny would have it, a foreign company will now play a major role on Hull’s economic future, at least in the short term. In the wake of the Brexit vote, there were widespread fears Siemens would pull out of the region and take its factory elsewhere. With the massive blade looming large in the background, Jason Speedy, director of the blade factory in Hull, assures me that isn’t the case.

“The Brexit decision has made no difference. We have made our investment decision, so Siemens, together with the Association of British Ports, has put in £310m. It’s all full steam ahead.”

As Hull becomes the country’s cultural hub for the next few months, the hope is that its residents stop looking back and start looking forward.

For Professor Lee, though, until there is a complete change in the power structures that run the country, the north-south divide will remain – with or without the EU. “The way you kill nostalgia is to have something new,” he said. “The reason why people here are nostalgic is because there is nothing to replace it with.”

Felipe Araujo is a freelance journalist based in London. He writes about race, culture and sports. He covered the Rio Olympics and Paralympics on the ground for the New Statesman. He tweets @felipethejourno.