The pinky ring has long been more than just an accessory—it’s a signifier. In Black culture, gold pinky rings have been a quiet but potent symbol of success and self-definition for decades, especially in music. Rappers in the ’80s and ’90s used them as markers of having “made it,” a visible reminder that wealth could be worn proudly. In Latinx communities, gold pinkies are tied to Chicano style and lowrider culture—a part of a larger, deliberate aesthetic. They’re worn as markers of loyalty, family and self-respect. In queer history, the pinky ring served as a subtle way to signal community when overt displays weren’t safe.

And then there’s the pinky-ring bachelor lore. As my friend Thom Bettridge, creative director and editor-in-chief of i-D, puts it: “A pinky ring is a must-have accessory for any bachelor, until you’re ready for the ring on the next finger over. There’s something very effete about wearing a ring on your little finger. For men, I suggest leaning into that and getting something that’s normally made for women, but in a large size. My only don’t: please don’t wear a signet unless it’s actually from your school or family.”

Historically, the signet was the ultimate everyday object, worn constantly, used to stamp letters, and passed down through generations. The diamond pinky is its glamorous foil: impractical, unnecessary, and all the better for it.

Maybe that’s the pinky ring’s real power: it’s the smallest finger but insists on a starring role. In an era when fashion is piling it on—from Celine’s gold-anchored hands to Rihanna’s diamond-encrusted stacks—the diamond pinky might be the most subtle, indifferently effortless, way to wear precious stones. Oh this? I just had one lying around.