The Hendrick’s Gin bottle — so dark I remember wondering if it was black. In the bottle shop it looked almost inky… but when I held it up to the light, there was just a tinge of brown.
I had to wait a while for one to find its way to me (I’m not a big gin drinker myself), but it was worth it.
The glass melted beautifully — smooth and steady — and the beads turned out a deep, rich brown. Not quite black, but close enough to add some moody charm to my Gin and Tonic collection.
This bead began as a piece of beach glass from one of my favourite little spots on the Yorke Peninsula. I’ve collected beach glass there a few times — it always feels like finding treasure washed up on the shore.
There’s something mysterious about it… you never know how old the glass is or where it came from.
I wondered what would happen if I melted one of these softly worn pieces. I thought it might turn clear in the flame — but instead, it surprised me. The result was something totally unexpected and quietly beautiful. Tumbled by the sea, transformed by the flame.
These beads began with a very old carboy — a heavy glass vessel that had been in one family for generations. It was used to store chemicals of some sort. Possibly for use in a newspaper many years ago.
Fifteen years ago it broke. And instead of throwing it away, the lady who owned it kept it. She couldn’t quite let it go. When she heard about what I do, she brought it to me — hoping I could give it another life.
It wasn’t easy. The glass was temperamental, aged and unfamiliar. It was bubbly and didn’t like anything else being added to it (I learned that the hard way). But a few experiments later and I managed to make some beads that turned out OK. The colour is very unusual, but part of its charm too.
I’m so honoured I got to be part of this story. Have you ever held onto something broken, hoping one day it might be whole again?
Sometimes it works… and sometimes it doesn’t. Today’s beads started with a striking red Beefeater Gin bottle — it looked amazing before it hit the flame.
But as soon as I started melting it, the red disappeared completely, leaving me with clear beads. Poof! Just like that. Turns out the red was just a surface coating and the flame burned it right off.
So, I improvised — I gave the feature bead a pop of colour using some of my frit (smashed-up glass). Not what I planned, but still something worth keeping.
Every fail teaches me something — and sometimes, it still turns out kind of pretty. Ever had a creative experiment go completely sideways?
Window glass had me obsessed for a while — I even held a small exhibition featuring beads and jewellery made entirely from one old window! I was intrigued by the soft tint of the glass and how it became the perfect base for exploring new embellishments.
Today’s beads are made from window glass too. You can really see the subtle colour come through — and I’ve acid-etched some of them to create the opposite effect of what windows are meant to do… turning transparency into opaqueness.
It’s amazing how even the most ordinary materials — like a window — can become something unexpectedly beautiful. 🪟
Have you ever wondered what other everyday glass objects might make beautiful beads?
Harlequin Glass — those vibrant, multicoloured cups that were popular in the 1950s and 1960s, often sold in sets of six. While complete sets are hard to find, I had a few broken and mismatched pieces in my collection, so I decided to do something a little adventurous…
I broke my usual rule and melted all the different bits together into one bead. Normally I don’t mix glass types—you can’t be sure they’ll be compatible—but these worked beautifully. It seems they were all made from the same kind of glass after all!
A lovely little experiment that turned into a multicoloured bead full of vintage charm. 🎨
The final photo is a work in progress shot of my necklace after 14 days of Melted Moments. Can’t wait to wear it when it’s all done!
Reyka Gin — how pretty is this bottle? I was so excited when someone donated it to me. The colour is just that little bit different from so many others I’ve used.
When I first started making beads from wine and gin bottles, you could often find me holding bottles up to the light in bottle shops — trying to catch a glimpse of their true colour. Not shopping for drinks… just for glass!
This one didn’t disappoint. Subtle, soft, and beautiful melted down.
Do you have a favourite bottle — for the drink, the colour, or both?
I shared the white milk glass goblet the other day — today it’s blue milk glass! This piece started life as a candlestick. The colour is just gorgeous.
It’s not quite like other opaque glass I’ve melted — there’s something a bit more magical about this old glass, a kind of lustre or lusciousness that makes the beads sparkle.
I love that even a simple candlestick can shine again as something new.
A beautiful perfume bottle today. I’m always curious to see what happens when I melt pieces like this — sometimes they work out beautifully, and sometimes… well, I have an epic fail to share soon!
This one was a pleasant surprise — it kept its colour so well, and the silver foil I added felt like the perfect little nod to the original bottle’s elegance.
I love when a little experiment turns into something special. 💚
Have you ever thought about turning something like this into beads? Or flower sticks? Giving it a new purpose?
When I was sorting through my stash of glass — some collected, some gifted — I found this purple cup. It was such an unusual piece, with its mix of colours and swirly pattern, I just had to see what would happen when I put it in the flame.
Would it keep that swirl? Would the purple stay vibrant? I couldn’t wait to peek inside the kiln — and it did! The beads kept that streaky finish and the purple stayed so bright. Who would have thought a $2 cup could turn into such pretty beads? 💜
Have you got anything in your collection that you might like to turn into beads?