diamonds are a girl's best friend --part one (m)

I have this dilemma.  Before I left my job in 2007, I bought a beautiful diamond solitaire.  The former Chairman of my company knew a diamond merchant in New York whom he said was the best--highest quality, lowest price.

As impulse purchases go, this was a doozy.  It is just over 3 carats.  Even considering the fact I was much heavier then, it was still a big honking pendant.  As nice as the diamond is, the chain is boring, almost pedestrian.  Ditto the setting.

I never wear this diamond as I am afraid of losing it. Plus, it just doesn't look right on me.  Every now and then, I unlock my jewelry box and look at it with the same detached fascination as an anthropologist who unearthed an artifact in Pompei--objective, clinical, curious.

I've asked my friend Susan--my style expert--to advise me as to what to do.  She says it's fine the way it is but just shorten the chain a bit.

I've sent clippings from DeBeers ads to my friends, asking if they like this setting or that.  Seriously, in a world where people have real problems, I can tell I've tried their patience on this subject.

Lyn tells me to bring it to New York and we'll go to the diamond district. 

We walk almost three miles to get there.  Once in the store, my head starts to hurt. Sensory overload.  I turn to ask Lyn her opinion on something, but she's at a counter visitng her earrings which are being held for her.

Left to my own, I wander the store and hear salespeople calling me over.  Miss, Miss...can I help you?  Or, Miss, Miss, you looking for something in particular?  I help you?

I imagine this is what it must be like for a man to walk the red light district in Amsterdam, this clash between stimulation and solicitation.

In a classic case of displacement behavior, I start to try on pearls.  I can't cope with diamonds.  I've lost interest and am no closer to finding a solution to my dilemma.

Lyn suggests we go to her guy and at least get my necklace appraised.  He takes a while to do this and gives me an estimate.  It's twice what I paid in September of 2007.

I am stunned.  It would be like wearing a Mercedes around my neck.

I decide I either have to sell it or get it a more appropriate setting.

I Google the name of the jeweler from whom I bought this gem a few years ago.  His address is 580 Fifth Avenue.

The building is right next door.  I tell Lyn we have to go see Henry, the diamond merchant.