Buying A Diamond Ring

Compared to contemporary man's picaresque quest in search of an engagement ring, Magellan's circumnavigation of the Earth can be considered as nothing more arduous than a leisurely stroll in a pleasant woodland glade. An almost Sisyphean amount of due diligence is necessary before any decisions can be made about which ring to buy. The lair of Cyclops the Jeweler must be visited to compare his wares with those of Rumpelstiltskin & Sons. And, most wearisome of all, obsequious salespersons will recite the litany of the Four C's to you as if it were some alchemical secret revealed only to the chosen few. These four C's are not Cost, Caveat, Crippling Debt and Cardiac Arrest, as you might think; but Cut, Color, Clarity and Carat Weight. Personally, I could not see any difference between a diamond that supposedly weighs one carat and a diamond that apparently weighs one-and-a-quarter carats, except in the price, which is roughly a thousand dollars worth of difference. Similarly, if you are concerned about a flaw that is invisible to the naked eye, then you will probably not be concerned about another thousand dollars disappearing from your savings account. Regarding the cut of the stone, you will want a normal cut, obviously. None of this heart-shaped novelty nonsense. And as for the color? You don't want any at all, unless it's source is prismatic light bouncing off the facets. Ultimately, your choices are really nowhere near as mind-bendingly complicated as some self-important merchants might pretend they are.
Downtown Boston has two entire buildings with many nooks and crannies where such jewelers ply their spangly trade: "A family business since 1893 and featuring most of the original staff." The founder, great-grandfather Rippoff, got his start designing ruby-encrusted toenail-clippers for the Tsar. These are oak-paneled showrooms with linoleum floors and glass cases full of golden ring settings. Gaudy lumps of cubic zirconia employed as diamond substitutes and Quixotic feats of imagination are required if you wish to examine anything, not to mention leaps of faith.  Shopping for your own coffin is probably a similar and equally disheartening experience.
So, eventually, when all other avenues prove to be dead ends, you will find yourself slouching towards the bank vault-like doors of Tiffany & Co. This infamously expensive store is a Camelot of quiet sophistication compared to the Goblin Market described above, but you can't go wrong at Tiffany, providing you have no objection to exchanging a wallet-witheringly large amount of money for a tiny gem set in a pretty platinum band, and, of course, Tiffany's charming blue box comes free with every purchase, which is worth its own weight in precious stones from a female point-of-view. You might feel a little like Gawain entering the Green Chapel to receive his blow, but as any student of questing stories will tell you: it's the journey that's important. At least, that's how you can console yourself as they courteously present you with the receipt.

Comments

[Laurent]

I'd keep the receipt, and show it to your fiancé every time she asks you to say that you love her.

[Julia]

So...congratulations are in order?

[american fez]

Congratulations are always in order.

[Mia Wolff]

恭 喜！ 恭 喜！
that's congratulations! (twice) in Mandarin
hey, never hurts...

[Carter]

I call all gemstones carbuncles, though I think it is only correct to use the term in reference to garnets.

[The Anti-Gnostic]

Fun at the jewelry store:

Introduce yourself as Gandalf, then ask, "Is it secret, is it safe?" while looking anxiously around and gripping your staff.

Attempt to open the display case by gesturing with your hands and saying in a loud voice, "Open sesame!"

Walk in dressed in full pirate regalia and demand to see their booty.