Turquoise has that way of holding sky and water in one breath. People have trusted it for ages—pharaohs, nomads, silversmiths, travelers. But the truth is, not every turquoise you see comes from the same earth. Some are born of rock and time. Others, of chemistry and imitation. It happens because real turquoise is rare. There isn’t much of it, and what exists can be fragile. Jewelers sometimes help it along—stabilizing soft pieces with resin so they don’t crumble. That’s still turquoise, just steadied a bit. Then there are stones that only pretend. Howlite. Magnesite. Sometimes dyed so perfectly you’d swear it’s real until it isn’t. The real thing never looks too perfect. The blue shifts slightly, like weather changing. Tiny veins wander through it—uneven, organic, sometimes dark. They don’t repeat. If every bead looks identical, if the color feels almost plastic in its smoothness, it’s probably not true turquoise. A little unevenness is the giveaway. Touch helps too. Real turquoise holds a bit of coolness, even after a moment in your hand. It has weight. Plastic doesn’t. Neither does painted stone. And though turquoise can scratch, it won’t feel fragile or hollow. Price can whisper clues as well. Real turquoise rarely sells cheap. Reputable jewelers tend to know its story—where it came from, how it was treated, what kind of metal cradles it. Good pieces usually rest in silver or gold, not tin or brass. If you’re unsure, testing helps. A gemologist can check it, confirm what’s inside. That kind of proof matters if you want a piece that will stay true over time. Because imitation fades. Real turquoise doesn’t. It deepens. It changes slightly as it learns you—your touch, your skin, your days. It carries memory the way the sea carries light. So maybe that’s the easiest way to tell. Real turquoise feels alive. Not perfect, not polished to sameness. Just honest. And when you wear it, it feels like wearing a bit of story.