The first time I made an oval engagement ring was probably 2014. Maybe 2015. Back then, ovals were the quiet choice — the shape clients asked about when they didn't want a round brilliant but couldn't quite picture themselves in something more dramatic. They were considered classic but a little under the radar.

Then somewhere around 2018, ovals took over.

If you scroll through engagement ring photos on Instagram right now, I'd estimate more than half of what you'll see is an oval. I make oval rings constantly. I have an oval on order with a New York stone dealer for a client next week. And the question I get asked most often — almost always with a slightly nervous edge — is some version of: "Is the oval going to look dated in ten years?"

It's a fair question. Let's talk about it honestly.

Why the oval took off

Ovals do a few things that other shapes can't quite pull off at the same time. They make a hand look longer because the cut is elongated. They show more spread than a round of the same carat weight, so you get more visual presence per dollar. And the brilliant faceting underneath gives you that flashy, sparkly look without the geometric formality of an emerald cut.

For someone choosing a center stone, that combination is almost too efficient. You get sparkle. You get finger coverage. You get a shape that feels modern but isn't aggressively unusual. The oval kind of just wins on paper.

There's also the celebrity factor — I think Blake Lively's ring was probably the unofficial trigger for the wave we're in now. Once one famous oval shows up, the algorithm does the rest.

What people don't tell you about ovals

The bow tie. Every oval has one. It's the dark shadow that runs across the middle of the stone, perpendicular to the length. It's caused by how light hits the elongated facets, and there is no oval in the world that is completely free of it. Anyone who tells you otherwise is selling you something.

What you can control is how visible it is. A well-cut oval has a faint bow tie that looks like part of the pattern of light. A poorly cut oval has a deep, almost black band that sits there and stares at you. When I'm sourcing an oval for a client, the bow tie is honestly the first thing I look at, before color or clarity grade. If the bow tie is bad, the rest of the report doesn't matter.

Length-to-width ratio matters too. A "skinny" oval (ratio around 1.5) reads more dramatic. A "stubby" oval (closer to 1.3) reads softer, almost like a round stone that got stretched. Most of my clients land in the 1.35–1.45 range without realizing that's what they're picking. They just say "that one looks right."

So is it going to look dated

Honestly? Probably not in the way people are worried about.

Here's what I think actually happens. In about fifteen years, when oval-trend rings have been worn long enough that everyone has one, the very specific look that's popular right now — toi et moi settings, hidden halos, super-fine pavé bands — those will start to feel like a particular moment. The way 90s princess-cut solitaires with channel-set bands read as "1990s" the moment you look at one.

The oval as a stone shape, though, has been used in fine jewelry for centuries. Victorian-era ovals, mid-century cocktail rings, art deco rose-cut ovals. It's not new. It's just having a turn at the front of the line.

If you love the oval, get the oval. But here's the small piece of advice I'd give anyone choosing one right now: pick a setting that's a little quieter than what's everywhere on Instagram. A clean four-prong solitaire. A simple east-west bezel. Pavé that's thoughtful rather than maxed out. The setting is the part that dates. The stone is the part that lasts.

Want to come in and look at a few ovals side by side, including the difference between a really good cut and a mediocre one? I keep some samples at the studio. Drop me a note here and we'll set up a time.