STAYING STONE

Van Cleef-- The perfect stone . . .
Zales-- Everybody must get stone.
P. Wilson

Here’s another highly positive relationship we have with the mineral world, jewelry.

Once, on some sort of trip, prob mescaline, my roommate, Merry, brought out a box of jewelry. A few loose stones and a couple of simple settings.

She explained their provenance, mostly family, but at least one rich boyfriend, and their quality ratings, which were high. Mostly we just looked at them.

Instances of natural exquisiteness they were. But nothing more, at least in terms of delivering a spiritual message. I’d much rather own a Vermeer (of my choice) than the Hope Diamond.

As a medium of exchange, gems represent the highest concentration of value of any non-exotic material. They’re highly portable and easy to smuggle. Polonium, for instance, probably costs more per gram, but it’s a little hard to handle. Diamonds—no prob.

Remember when the Shah made his getaway—he had more gold than the plane could lift off with, dumbshit. An equal value of gems would have fit in a suitcase. Even cash gets bulky.

Since that experience with Merry I’ve enjoyed looking at jewelry in store windows and museums. It’s not like I have any strong desire to own it, least of all the elaborate settings.

I do admit that understated pearls, fine gold chains, and great solitary stones can be very flattering to the human body.

My last trip to New York was Christmas time so there were rubies in the windows of the stores on Fifth Avenue, giving a chance for easy comparison.

Tiffany – their rubies were too pale, pinkish
Bulgari – yucky orange stuff (when I see Bulgari, I think bulgur wheat)
Van Cleef & Arpels – deep red with intense candlepower

So I’m really easy to shop for, garden gnomes by Bufano, and rubies from Van Cleef.

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SWIMSUITS THEN AND NOW

A friend of my youth, Katie Wolf, said something about beauty pageants that I still find amusing. I guess Donald Trump’s recent issues with his Miss Whatever made me think of it.

Katie said that when she and her schoolgirl friends would watch Miss America or Miss USA on TV, they would become concerned about the talent competition. What would be their “talents.”

They’d hate to get out on the stage and look stupid, like the contestants whose talent is singing but who really can’t sing.

What I find so charming is the assumption among the young girls that their beauty, when it got to that point, would easily qualify them for the finals. It was the talent part that concerned them.

When I was a nightwatchman at a college dorm, I got to know a girl resident who was the reigning Miss Omaha. Tight little body with big boobs, blond hair, and the clearest, most consistent complexion I have ever seen.

She'd sit at the front door with me sometimes as I checked IDs of kids coming in. She wasn’t really part of any clique, I think she was sort of to herself. She was very level headed. Her attitude was that beauty titles and all were just something that happened to people with looks like hers, no biggie.

What impressed me most was she said she was already a certified gemologist, something about part time jobs, or relatives in the business got her started.

She tried to explain some of the details about precious and semi-precious but I was too left wing to care about jewels. Now I’m a sucker for beautiful stones. The dancing slaves in my new musical will be clad only in strands of rice pearls, and diamond toe and finger rings.

And I tell Pud that if he really wants me to forgive him for saving my life, he’ll give my something nice from Van Cleef & Arpels, neat web site. Rubies are always appropriate.

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