I have a confession to make. The first time I saw a fine emerald, I was twenty-three years old, standing in a dimly lit jewelry district in New York City. The stone was Colombian, nearly six carats, and the dealer quoted a price that made my stomach drop. I couldn’t afford it. I couldn’t even…
I have a confession. When I first started collecting gemstones, I thought I could tell a ruby from a garnet just by looking. I was wrong. I remember standing in a dimly lit shop in Bangkok, holding a deep red stone under a fluorescent lamp. The dealer swore it was a Burmese ruby. The price…
I have a confession to make. When I first started collecting gemstones, I thought “color change” meant a stone that shifted slightly in different lighting—like a blue sapphire that looked a tiny bit deeper under fluorescent lights. I was wrong. Spectacularly wrong. And I learned that lesson the hard way when I bought what I…
I have a confession to make. When I first started collecting gemstones, I thought I had a yellow sapphire. I’d saved for months, bought it from a reputable dealer, and wore it every day. It wasn’t until a year later, when a gemologist friend casually mentioned its “warm, honeyed glow,” that I realized my mistake….
I have a confession. For years, I was completely seduced by the deep, velvety green of emeralds. Every time I walked into a jewelry store, I’d drift toward the emerald case like a moth to a flame. I bought my first emerald ring when I was twenty-three, convinced I was making a lifelong investment. Six…
I remember the first time I held a tanzanite next to a sapphire. It was in a dimly lit jewelry shop in New York, and I was convinced I could tell them apart instantly. I couldn’t. The salesman smiled knowingly as I squinted, turning both stones in the light. That moment taught me something crucial:…
I have a confession to make. When I first started collecting gemstones, I bought what I thought was a beautiful green jasper cabochon at a local rock show. I was so proud of that piece. I carried it in my pocket for weeks, rubbing my thumb across its smooth surface. It wasn’t until a year…
I have a confession. When I first started collecting gemstones, I bought a beautiful, deep blue stone from a market in Istanbul. The seller swore it was topaz. I wore it every single day for two years. It was my lucky charm, my conversation starter, my go-to piece for every job interview. Then one afternoon,…
I have a confession. Early in my career, I got it wrong. A client walked into my shop, beaming, holding a ring she’d inherited. “Look at this ruby,” she said. I took one look at the stone—a vivid, electric pink—and my heart sank. It wasn’t a ruby. It was a pink tourmaline, one of the…
I have to be honest with you. When I first started in the jewelry world, I couldn’t tell a garnet from a ruby to save my life. And here’s the kicker—I was selling them. A customer would walk in, point to a deep red ring in the display case, and ask, “Is this a ruby?”…