Author: Amanda Duan

  • Belmont Clothing Designer Charts a New Creative Course

    The machine groaned as John d’Arbeloff turned the crank, pressing silver through cardboard and cheesecloth until the metal emerged with an imprint of woven texture.

    After 30 years in the clothing business, the 65-year-old founder of RailRiders adventure wear has launched a new venture. The Belmont resident said his handcrafted jewelry line fuses his passion for artistic design with his love of the ocean.

    “I love birthing things,” said d’Arbeloff. “I love designing and seeing it come to fruition. I look at something raw, and then a light bulb goes off, and I know exactly what I’m going to do.”

    He started RailRiders in his 20s after deciding sailors deserved better sports gear. His first product—padded foul-weather shorts—helped racers “ride the rail” along a sailboat’s edges.

    As his company matured, d’Arbeloff began imagining his next business.

    “Pottery was too messy,” he said. “I ended up looking like a little chocolate muffin.”

    Years of seaside walks with his daughter Margaux sparked the idea for the jewelry business.

    “I always envisioned what we picked up, sea glass or shells, as jewelry,” he said. “And I said to myself, ‘I’m just gonna do this.’ ”

    He enrolled in a beginner’s jewelry-making class in Waltham. Within weeks, he had found a new obsession, and soon, a new studio.

    “John’s constantly pulling from nature,” said Jill d’Arbeloff, his sister-in-law. “Just like the outdoor gear, you see it in the leaves, the sea glass, the gemstones.”

    His jewelry often begins at the beach. He and Margaux, a skilled sailor and artist herself, collect pieces of sea glass worn smooth by the tide. He wraps them in silver wire, drills delicate holes underwater to reduce the risk of breakage, and weaves them into jewelry that shimmers with coastal light.

    He experiments restlessly in his home studio. Some nights he hammers copper into new patterns; other days he melts and recasts silver ingots.

    “The thing about art is that sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t,” he said, laughing. “You just redo it, and it becomes something else.”

    During a recent visit to his studio, light spilled over two long tables crowded with grinders, tumblers, and trays of tiny hammers and pliers. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with labeled boxes of silver wire and copper sheets.

    “By the middle of the second class, this blossomed,” d’Arbeloff said. “Seven thousand dollars later, I have my own studio.”

    It’s a far cry from RailRiders, which made $3 million in sales annually, but the enterprise is rooted in the same love of nature that shaped his clothing line. According to d’Arbeloff, his latest venture draws on his instincts for design, from outfitting sailors to crafting jewelry inspired by the sea.

    The pieces, sold on his RailRiders website under the Adventure Jewelry section, carry the same sense of motion that helped him build his outdoor clothing business.

    “The ocean is an adventure,” he said. “That’s where this all started. Walking the beach with my daughter, seeing what we could do with it.”

    Those who know d’Arbeloff describe him as endlessly curious, yet very much a family man at heart.

    “He’s a devoted dad,” said longtime friend David Cella, who met him when their daughters were in kindergarten. “He likes to share his interests with his daughter and spend time with her, and that’s what I’ve seen consistently.”

    Jill d’Arbeloff echoed a similar sentiment.

    “He’s incredibly loving and always willing to help,” she said. “He’s the one who’ll show up with tools if someone needs a hand.”

    D’Arbeloff still coaches his creativity like he once coached soccer.

    “You learn from doing,” he said. “Sometimes you bleed a lot in this pool, but you get better each time.”

    He credits his drive to a lifelong refusal to stand still. He grew up in Cambridge during the 1960s, studied art, and spent years sailing the Caribbean.

    “A body in motion stays in motion,” he said. “You gotta exercise your muscles, your brain, your creativity.”

    That philosophy has carried him from design sketches to soldering benches, from the open sea to the quiet hum of his basement studio. Friends say the shift is another outlet for the curiosity that’s always kept him moving.

    “He’s energized by it,” Cella said. “At our age, you don’t often see someone dive into something completely new, but he’s doing it with full curiosity and joy.”

    D’Arbeloff’s next goal is to learn casting, a process of melting silver into molds. He said he doesn’t measure success by sales or followers.

    “It’s not about mass-producing,” he said. “Every piece is unique. It’s about creating something that feels alive.”

    Back at the studio, a bracelet glints under the light. The former sailor turns it over in his hands, the way he might inspect a line or a sail.

    “I don’t know where it’s going,” he said, smiling, “but I know I’m having a hell of a time getting there.”

  • Belmont and Transylvanian Churches Celebrate 35-Year Bond

    Members of The First Church in Belmont Unitarian Universalist traveled to Romania this summer to celebrate the congregation’s 35-year partnership with its sister church in Transylvania, a relationship that began in the 1990s and has grown into decades of fellowship — meals, music and faith shared between two communities an ocean apart.

    Désfalva is a small village in the Transylvanian region of Romania, known for its deep Hungarian roots and centuries-old traditions. The Belmont church’s relationship with the Central European congregation began in 1990 through the denomination’s church partnership program, which connected churches after the fall of Communism.

    Every January, the congregations hold a joint worship service via livestream. Belmont projects Désfalva’s sanctuary onto a large screen so members can see one another in real time as they worship.

    “We’ll do a piece of music, and then they’ll do a piece of music, and then he’ll preach, and I’ll preach, live at the same time,” said the Rev. Chris Jablonski, senior minister at The First Church in Belmont.

    Among the most meaningful symbols of their relationship is the Kopjafa, a traditional, hand-carved wooden commemorative pillar that stands outside both churches. In Désfalva, villagers carve the columns to commemorate a community that was flooded during Romania’s Communist era, destroying the homes of Unitarian, Greek, and Jewish families. Artisans in Désfalva crafted a kopjafa and shipped it to Belmont in 2013 to honor Hans de Muinck Keizer, the first Belmont member to visit the village in 1990. This year, the Romanian congregation continued the tradition with a brass plaque honoring Sherry Jones, a Belmont community leader and founding supporter of the partnership, who died Nov. 15, 2024.

    “One of the really inspiring things that I’ve learned from them is the importance in trying times to keep people connected, grounded, hopeful, and remembering that they’re part of something larger,” said Jablonski.

    That sense of connection has deepened through decades of visits, projects, and friendships. Jeanne Mooney, a retired communications director at the Belmont church, first met visitors from Désfalva in 1997 when the church hosted the Transylvanian minister and his wife. In the intervening years, she said, cooking meals together, eating around tables, and going out to people’s homes has evolved into lasting friendships and connections.

    Jablonski joined members of his congregation on the visit to Désfalva this summer to dedicate a refurbished church organ, meet students who receive scholarships funded by the Belmont congregation, and enjoy traditional gatherings, including a horse-drawn wagon ride through the countryside.

    The 19th-century organ had been left in disrepair for decades after Romania’s Communist regime, when many church properties were seized and damaged.

    “Their organ basically looked like it was destroyed on purpose,” said Livia Racz, chair of the denomination’s partner church committee. “This person who rebuilt it really just wanted to right this wrong that had been done.”

    Racz said a craftsman charged the church 10,000 euros (about $11,600), which for a year of work and all new parts, was considered a bargain. The restoration typically would have cost 10 times more.

    The Belmont congregation helps fund scholarships for 12 to 15 students each year from Désfalva and the nearby village of Haranglab, according to Racz. The money allows students to attend Hungarian-language high schools, since local Romanian schools prohibit speaking Hungarian in class.

    “They could go to a Romanian school, but they’re not allowed to speak Hungarian,” Racz said. “If they want to keep their heritage, they have to travel really far. So, we have a scholarship fund that supports those who want to go to a Hungarian high school.”

    Jablonski said meeting the students was one of the most moving parts of his trip.

    “We heard from all of the current scholarship kids,” he said. “It’s been a very inspiring experience. Getting to know our friends in the village, hearing their stories of what they went through, and seeing the community still so connected.”

    Meals with host families were another highlight.

    “They had chickens and pigs and goats, and so I would milk the goats, and then we had that goat milk for breakfast,” Jablonski said. “Everything was there. The jam from berries and plums, bacon from their pigs, eggs from their chicken.”

    Mooney described the visit as an “intergenerational connection” between the two congregations, with families on both sides staying in touch for decades. Over the last quarter century, she said she has watched her Transylvanian friends’ children grow up and their church welcome a new generation of ministers.

    “It’s really a fun time to meet people after you’ve been [separated by] such a long, long distance,” Mooney said.