Gallery of Rare Jewels | David Humphrey My Adventure in the Gem Trade

A Special Necklace

For a decade I owned and operated what I affectionately called - my shop, in Pacific Palisades, California. I offered there, as I do now; a compelling range of fine jewelry together with fine works of art and antiques. Most everyone that would find his or her way into my shop would be thoroughly amazed, especially if they would slow down long enough from their frenetic day to allow for a child like sense of awe and wonder. It is always a good idea to do that, in my opinion.

One fellow that frequented the shop from time to time stands out in my memory. He was bright, sincere and intellectually curious. He began his visits by honing in on the antique Indian jewels or objects on display. He would then ply me for every bit of information I could give him about each piece. He may have been testing to see what I knew about his home country of India.

After a few cordial encounters it became his routine to stop by every few days. On several visits he voiced resentment towards a particular character depicted on Seinfeld, the TV show. He was incensed, convinced that the portrayal of a Pakistani cafe owner in many of the show episodes was based on him specifically. It certainly was plausible given the remarkable similarity between his mannerisms and those of Babu. His visits increasingly turned darker. He would stop by just to rant about different things. I would try to keep the peace, make light and humor him but I drew the line once he made the menacing threat to murder the President of a local University as retribution for an injustice he had suffered at the hands of the President. I cannot actually remember the beef he had or if I ever had a grasp on just what it was. I made it clear to him that such aggressive behavior was not appropriate in my store. For some reason I did not take his threat seriously enough to call the cops. My sense was that he was emotionally confused, but that there was no clear and present danger to anyone really.

He showed up again some days later. My body stiffened anxiously as I let him in but it turned out he had just come to give me a necklace. It was a long strand composed of small, faceted black onyx beads, which he had inherited. He said he would not charge me but that he wanted me to promise to find it a good home. I promised, thanked him and placed the necklace inside a box in the second drawer of my front jewelry case. A friend later informed me that they were traditional Indian mourning beads.

Time passed. The days grew short. Darkness fell early.

In the evenings, in the shop, something special happened. In the evenings, in the shop, the carefully lit displays came into focus. In the evenings, in the shop, the euphony of jewelry and artifacts was magnified. Yoruba woodcarvings stood next to scintillating diamond and moonstone necklaces under the watchful, gouache-on-paper gaze of a gaunt prince of the fourth rank, wearing ermine cap and collar, seated in the large ancestor portrait, which hung on the wall. In the evenings, in the shop, the rare jewels and objects seemed to engage one another in telepathic conversations under the canopy of mahogany and stained glass, masterfully executed by life long friends, designers, Will Ingersoll and Kent Lauer. From inconspicuous speakers, a steady soundtrack of rhythms, melodies and counter rhythms permeated the space.

It was just before Christmas. The face of a young girl appeared at my door and I buzzed her in. She was all of nine years of age, on her own. While many adults found the security doors intimidating, this little girl walked in without a trace of fear. She browsed the displays. The costs, even for the least expensive items, would surely be beyond her reach. She told me she was looking for a gift and asked if I had something she might afford. I asked her how much she could spend. She said ten dollars. She explained that her grandfather had just passed away and she wanted something special to give her grandmother who was sad.

I thought for a minute then remembered and slowly opened the second drawer of the front jewelry case where I stood. I pulled out the necklace that had been left, for which I had promised to find a good home. She approached the case as I held up the long strand of glistening, faceted onyx beads.

How about these, I asked. I placed them on the counter before her. She gazed speechless, fingering the beads. She then looked up at me. I can have these for ten dollars? she asked. I said, you sure can; would you like them gift-wrapped? She nodded. I suggested a special box for the necklace and she approved. The magic of the season was unfolding right before my eyes. She was beaming. I finished boxing and wrapping the necklace for her and put the package into a gift bag. She placed ten dollars on the counter, reached for the bag and said thank you. She then turned around and walked away into the night as I buzzed her out through the door.

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The Gleam Factor

Every so often I come across a gemstone that excites my imagination. It is as if I fall under its sway, somehow. Like having a crush on someone but it is not someone, it is something. What follows that first blush of infatuation is key. Just as a crush may lead to marriage and children, a chance encounter with a special gemstone may also lead to more. Much more.

One day while visiting a friend, a fellow gem merchant, I look through his box of recent acquisitions and notice an interesting cameo. What’s this, I ask. Turns out it is one of a collection of gems and mineral specimens recently de-accessioned by the Philadelphia Academy of Arts and Sciences. It is a process museums utilize for making space. For the record, a cameo is a carving out of any gem material, including glass, where the image stands raised, in relief, against its background. Not all cameos bear the profile of a Greek, Roman or Victorian personage. The cameo, which catches my eye is a cushion cut emerald of a medium and very pleasing color, weighing seven carats. The carved image is of two volutes facing out at opposite ends within a double border that echoes the cushion shape of the stone. The emerald shows great transparency and though not flawless to the naked eye, possesses a quality I look for in just about everything that I acquire. It is a quality I refer to as the Gleam Factor. I ask the price for the marvelous wonder and we make the deal.

The rest is history. What history?

A volute, in case you wonder, is a design element found to occur in such diverse cultures as the ancient Egyptians, Assyrians and Maltese. According to Professor W. Wirth, a Scandinavian scholar, “the consistency of its form, the religious significance it always displays and the extent of its distribution over all continents points to the volute as being one of the oldest symbols of an early world view”. In her book, Shambhala, author Victoria LePage declares that the volute design “bears the timeless authority of a fundamental truth about the structure of the cosmos; one that has passed down through the ages to every race whose faculty of psychic vision has not entirely atrophied and which still survives in the esoteric brotherhoods”. That is impressive.

I have a dream. I find it is pretty much all about the dream. I approach my favorite client. Since I had just sold her a ring with a seven-carat Imperial Topaz I joke with her about building the “seven-carat collection” and that I happen to have an extraordinary emerald cameo weighing seven carats! She is in!

The ring is made according to my vision with the emerald cameo “supported” by a volute of diamonds on either side. And she loves it. But the best is yet to come!

I have another friend, a fellow gem dealer named Ronald Ringsrud, who specializes in emeralds. In fact, he is in the process of writing a book on emeralds and while in the midst of creating his masterpiece; he calls to ask if I might have an interesting emerald jewel, which he might include amongst the many illustrations in his book. Do I have an interesting emerald jewel? You bet!

I have taken the liberty to include here, the image from page 47 of his book, Emeralds: A Passionate Guide by Ronald Ringsrud. If you find emeralds appealing I suggest you run to his website: www.emeraldpassion.com. In my opinion, it is not only the finest book ever written on the subject of Emeralds but it is fun and his writing has the Gleam Factor!

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Risky Business

It is the summer of 1983, a good six months after my very first trip to Sri Lanka. The prize gem from that six-week journey remains unsold: a spectacular alexandrite, weighing 2.95 carats. The alexandrite is referred to as “ ruby by night and emerald by day” due to an optical phenomenon, known as “change of color”. I work as a waiter by night and a gem dealer by day. The difference, of course, is that my change is due to “job selection” while the change in alexandrites is due to “selective transmission and absorption” of light waves, but enough of that. The stone pictured here is not the stone I refer to but one with a very similar change of color, once photographed by the late Tino Hammid for Modern Jeweler.

Already fast asleep, I bolt up to answer the phone. The late Mike Waitzman, with whom I had worked during my tenure at the GIA, has called to ask me to come over to his apartment. He would like to show the alexandrite to a client the following day. He apologizes for calling at this hour, but he has just returned with his Mom from a fishing trip to Mexico and has been telling her all about my promising career, blah, blah, blah. Heck, she could meet me and we could share a glass of wine. What do you think?

An eager beaver in need to sell, I jump out of bed, throw my clothes on and grab my satchel. I notice the car is low on gas, but it is just a few miles away and I don’t delay. I pull up to his building, dark except for the lights from his upstairs apartment. The night is very warm. The door is left wide open. Mom is a hoot. She had been in the jewelry business for years, that is, until she and her husband were pistol-whipped and robbed. A large screen TV blares Star Wars. We drink wine.

Two nylon-masked men burst into the apartment wielding pistols. My first thought is “That’s funny!” And I mean “funny ha-ha” turning into “funny-weird” and immediately turning into “This is not funny”. They order us to face down on the carpet. I surrender my watch, a stainless steel Rolex Oyster Perpetual that my Dad had bought in Kuwait in 1952. Mrs. Waitzman keeps looking up at the “perps “and is told to “Get back down, old lady, before I shoot you!” One holds us at gunpoint in the bathroom while the other ransacks the apartment. We are then told to step out, one by one. As I step out, a pistol is jammed into my temple. The three of us are then barricaded in a closet. One leg is shaking out of control in the dark. It is mine. After what seems forever, Mike puts his shoulder into it and we force the door open. I rush to the table where I left it. There it is, the precious stone paper. I feel it, unfold it. Yes! Destiny.

It is now 2:00a.m. The police finally arrive and fill out their reports. My satchel, wallet, money are all gone. Ten thousand dollars worth of stones I held on loan from other dealers; gone. Mike scrounges a few quarters for my gas. I leave the alexandrite and stick to the game plan.

A bearded man waits at the island of the all night gas station as I pull up. He approaches me. Before he can speak, I inform him I have absolutely nothing to give him and that I have just been robbed. He pauses then asks if I know how to get to Raleigh Hills Hospital. I had seen the TV ads for the rehab center but have no idea where it is. He then asks about the San Pedro Mission. I say "Yes, that is downtown, some 13 miles away. He says, “You got to help me. I am a musician.”

It is now about 2:30 in the morning. I am raw to the bone and this guy tells me he is a musician in need of my help. I tell him I don’t have enough gas to get him down there. He reaches deep into his pocket and slaps a crumpled wad of cash on the trunk of my car and says “Please.” I look at the wad (three dollars) and then I look at the cat. He is a cat, a jazz musician who claims to have played flugelhorn with Chuck Mangione. I have played drums since I was a kid. I have a terrible soft spot for musicians and cannot very well go against the grain of my nature even now though, by all rights, I do have a damn good excuse to deny this man his plea.

I pump my seventy-five cents and his three big ones into my car and off we go. On the way, he tells me that for fifteen hundred dollars, he can deliver two dead bodies to my front door. I tell him I do not want dead bodies. All I want is my stuff. He tells me that he killed a guy the previous week for stealing a gram from him and that he always carries a gun. This just pisses me off and I ask him “Are you carrying a gun right now?” He says, “I refuse to answer that question.”

The ride continues in furious silence. I find the Mission at 6th and San Pedro, drop him off and make my way back home through the gusty, near deserted streets, past giant, rolling tumbleweed. Tumbleweed in the dead of night rolling through downtown LA. I make it home by 4:00 in the morning.

For six months I have nightmares. The alexandrite is returned but the stone has a life of its own. It finally sells three weeks later. Three years later it comes back to me and I sell it to a Russian woman. The last time I see the stone, it is again for sale. The Russian woman, whose marriage evidently turned very bad by hard drugs abuse needed to sell the alexandrite. I swear I can see the pain of her life all over the alexandrite. The “shine” is gone. The color change has become “bad by night and worse by day”. It is a risky business.

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The Mexican Opal

I purvey gems and minerals, works of art and antiques. That is what I do. It is only possible for me to do that, most importantly, because I am alive. But the business of death and demise does sometimes figure in, and can even fuel the fire that moves objects on to their next destination.

“By referral” is how almost everything in my business works. Most people do not easily allow strangers into the privacy of their home to inspect and assess the value of their personal property. But to the stranger armed with a trusted “referral”, the gates are opened; sometimes tea is offered and generally speaking, permission is granted to view, handle and discuss the intimate details of the property in question, be it a gem, a painting, an antique or a jewel.

One day I had an appointment to visit an elderly couple living in a modest house. I was given to understand that the husband was not well. He had been a gem cutter and now the gemstones he had cut over the years were up for sale. My friend who had arranged for this meeting was well liked by the couple for many years and by his referral, I was given access to view the gems. Upon my arrival, the wife, a gentle and kind woman, greeted me at the door and led me into the living room to meet her husband. I was stunned to find the gentleman reclined on a hospital bed, unconscious and mechanically breathing, connected to life support. She leaned down close to his ear and gently explained that I was “the nice man who had come to see his opals”.

We then retired a few feet away to the dining table, where she had prepared her husband’s goods for viewing. She explained to me how important it was that the gems go to a good home where they would be appreciated and put to good use. She left me alone to examine the gems while she went to prepare tea for us. On her way to the kitchen she reassured her partner of 50 years with words of comfort.

I examined the impressive parcel of Mexican opals from Queretaro that ranged from white to orange, all with fire or play of color. One was of a rare red body color and with strong red fire, the kind of vivid play of color that can mesmerize. I also examined several faceted amber bead necklaces that displayed the diagnostic minute crackling only seen in antique amber.

All the while I was respectfully aware that the man on the bed just feet away, was very possibly, as aware of me as I was of him. When she returned, we sipped tea. I assured her that the gems would indeed find a good home with me. I also told her how I appreciated her husband’s choice of material and his fine cutting. After calculating the price I was willing to pay, I made an offer. The offer was accepted.

I felt a sense of ease in the process. It was as if a blessing hung in the air expressed by the pervasive sound of her husband breathing. Though I was not prepared for the reality I had just stepped into, I warmed to it almost immediately. It all seemed so normal.

I came away with a number of beautiful gems that day and later gifted my friend one of the fine Mexican opals that he was taken by, when I showed him the parcel. And all this because I was alive, because a man was at the threshold between this life and the next and perhaps most importantly, because of the generous referral by my friend.

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That's the Gem Business!

Whatever can be said about the people in the gem business, can be said about people in all fields of human endeavor, for without people, there is no gem business. And where people are concerned, there is often drama.

Countless conversations, amongst gem, jewelry and antiques dealers the world over, to which I have been privy over the years, involve subjects and issues truly unique to those lines of work. I have seen conversations become heated over curious details such as the color, clarity, age, authenticity or provenance of a gem or object. Hours may be spent by dealers discussing the meaning of a single word and whether or not that word can be properly ascribed to a specific item that will be bought or sold; often on the basis of that word alone. Is it not amusing? I think so.

One example that has stuck with me for a long time, mostly because it is an ongoing conversation amongst gem dealers even today is “What is a padparadscha?” The term, padparadscha, is thought to be derived from the Sanskrit word for lotus flower and has been used for over a hundred years in the literature, to describe sapphires that are reddish yellow, orange-yellow, orange-pink or pinkish orange.

It took a 1983 article by a brilliant gemologist; the late Robert Crowningshield to adequately capture the meaning of the term. What he said was this: “If the term is to have merit today, it will have to be limited to those colors historically attributed to padparadscha and found as typical colors in Sri Lanka. It is the opinion of the GIA that this color range should be limited to light to medium tones of pinkish orange to orange-pink hues.” He went on to say, “Deep orangy red sapphires would not qualify as fitting the term padparadscha.”.

One morning in Sri Lanka, after buying a 2.95 carat padparadscha , (pictured here from the Summer 1986 issue of Gems and Gemology), I chat with some dealers about the true meaning of the word. After an hour of going around and around on the subject, one of the dealers raises his finger and asserts - “True padparadscha must be the color of the last sunset”. I feel myself relax. I can feel a breeze on my face. My body says yes. This new definition lends itself to a wide range of colors, which can even include hues of purple and blue mixed in with the pinks, oranges and yellows; the sudden swirl of colors often seen in those final moments just as the sun appears to sink below the horizon. I think, “I’ll buy that!”. This description is the brilliant “last word” on the subject for me and while it doesn’t completely replace the Crowningshield definition of padparadscha, it underscores the rarity that such a pleasing confluence of colors represents when found together in a sapphire.

The conversation finishes that morning when another gem dealer pipes in: “These things are never just black and white. That is the gem business!”

Everyone laughs. I am beaming.

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The Kris

A charismatic exploration geologist in the Petroleum Industry, my father, Dr. William E. Humphrey, combed the world for prospects most of the time when I was a kid. After one trip that included Jakarta, he brought me home an exotic asymmetrical dagger with a wavy blade of Damascus steel that came to a highly sharpened point. It had a plain wooden sheath that matched the carved hilt. This, he told me, was a Kris. I kept it in my room and showed it to my friends with pride over the years until it eventually found its way onto my parents’ display shelves after I left home. What impressed me the most was that when I held it, it had the heft and feel of something not to be messed with.

The Kris: Mystic Weapon of the Malay World by Edward Frey helped me to gain a deeper appreciation for my own simple Kris, which paled by comparison to the exquisitely jeweled Kris of royal provenance that one day also found its way to me.

From friend to friend do objects go and where they end up, no one knows. One day a friend brings me an extraordinary Kris. It is difficult to “grok” at once. It is much larger than the one my father gave me. Its sheath is of chase and repoussé sheet gold, ivory, figured exotic wood. The long, straight blade is of masterfully forged steel. The hilt is in the form of a chased gold Raksha, a mythical guardian, set with diamonds and rubies in the head, large Burmese ruby cabochons at the base, and on its chest, a 2 to 3 carat pyramid diamond, most certainly from the legendary Golconda mines of India.

The masterpiece had been acquired in the auction of “deaccessioned” property for the Fowler Museum in Los Angeles. The elder Mr. Fowler had purchased the Kris in 1954 at a Sothebys sale called Palace Collections of Egypt. In the nineteen twenties the Raja of Bali gave the Kris to King Farouk after his majesty had presented him with a diamond-studded box. King Farouk was well known for extravagant gift exchanges! And now, it was on my desk, consigned to me for sale.

It sounds like a real no-brainer, right? Not so fast. I cannot tell you how many times I hear whiny concerns even as I offer exquisite jewels for sale to qualified buyers: What am I going to do with it? I do not understand it! How much? That much? Why?

The Kris remained in my safe as a loaf of bread baking in the oven until its time. Months. A sale only requires one buyer. A conversation began with a client in Hong Kong, followed by supporting documents including a letter from a museum director who’d borrowed the Kris from the Fowler for his own exhibitions. After further discussions, a price was arrived at followed by the tedious process of drawing CITES permits for the shipment of the ivory bearing sheath, to Hong Kong. CITES polices the movement of protected species to make sure that no illegal material is traded in the world. Documentation to support that the Kris was antique and made around 1840 assured CITES that no laws were being violated in the transaction.

In short, the sale was completed. The buyer got cold feet after spending the tens of thousands and I witnessed him sell the Kris to an “important man” in Hong Kong for a ten percent profit. I went on to Singapore after Hong Kong and was surprised to learn through other dealers that the tale of the Kris sale had already begun to spread throughout Southeast Asia! Today’s value would be in the hundreds of thousands.

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Buying Gold on Cat Street

This story starts on Cat Street in Hong Kong in 1993. Cat Street, for those who may not know, is in the center of the antiques district next to Hollywood Road. I was in town for the Hong Kong Gem and Jewelry Show. It just so happened, some friends, curators from the Pacific Asia Museum in Pasadena, were also in town, and we met on Cat Street for a day of shopping. On this day, I had my first exposure to gold ornaments from China’s ancient past, bits and pieces on offer, at the various antique shops. The first of these gold pieces I encountered were four small masks, which had functioned as plaques for a belt. They were represented to be 2,400 years old from a period known as The Warring States. That sounded very cool to me!! But frankly I did not have a clue. “Must trust the dealer.” I thought. And so I did. The dealer guaranteed I could return the pieces if not authentic, so I took the plunge. Beginners luck! I went on to buy a number of exquisite pieces from different dealers on that day. Each purchase was an adventure. It was exciting to learn a new vocabulary with exotic history and I felt the wind of good fortune at my back. You might say I felt intoxicated at the prospect of my new discovery of Chinese Gold.

One such adventure involved the acquisition of the magnificent hair ornament pictured here. Feeling quite lucky now, I came into a small shop and asked the gentleman if he had any gold. He brought my attention to a low display case where a piece of metal lied, black as soot and without form - a mangled mess of dingy wires and leaf cutouts. Could it be silver? Certainly not gold, I thought. It looked like a train wreck to my untrained eye. He allowed me to pick the piece up and when I turned it over in my hand a flash of bright yellow caught my eye. – a scratch someone had made to determine that it was, indeed, gold. The piece, whatever it was, had seen better days, but I took a chance. A reasonable price was worked out and it was mine.

Upon my return to Los Angeles, I showed my treasures to a silversmith friend. We set out to understand and restore this flattened, black relic with the yellow streak.

As it turns out, gold does have memory! After the initial ultrasonic washing, the phoenix began to rise. The oxidation vanished, revealing the bright yellow of high karat gold where, with my friend’s patient guidance, the wires and leaf forms wended their way back to their original positions, as intended by the 15th century goldsmith who had made it. The rich symbols took shape as my friend rearranged this “ugly duckling”.

First the Mandarin ducks, symbolizing connubial bliss, were meant to swivel by wires on the hairpiece, “en tremblant”, as the bride, I am told, would likely walk in swing step style. Then we have the open work pomegranates in the center, which are emblematic of fertility and in particular, the birth of numerous sons. Electric blue kingfisher feathers would have been over-laid on the surface of the gold pomegranate leaves - Poetry in gold, now in a private collection.

And what of my very first purchase on that auspicious day on Cat Street? It took over a year for me to get my store credit from the dealer on those "Warring States" belt plaques, as sadly, they turned out to be fakes. But ten wins and only one loss on my first time out, buying gold on Cat Street... Not too shabby!

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Star of David Aquamarine Crystal

Today, remarkably, two important religious holidays are observed throughout the world: Yom Kippur, also known as Day of Atonement, is the holiest day of the year for Jewish people. Eid al-Adha, also known as Feast of the Sacrifice, is celebrated by all Muslims. This year, they both happen to fall on October 4.


A Sri Lankan gem dealer once offered me a parcel of rough, aquamarine crystals. It was here in Los Angeles in the early 80’s. The rough crystals were from Nigeria and though interesting for their color, they could not be considered as fine mineral specimens, nor were they clean enough to yield cut stones of gem quality. I examined the parcel and honed in on one particular crystal. The termination of the crystal jumped out and “spoke” to me: a well pronounced, six pointed star, as if someone had carved it onto the end of the crystal, by hand.

Without fanfare, I enquired about the price and without hesitation, I purchased the crystal. Wow. Cool. Into the drawer it went.

I had fun with it. Speculation abounded with regards the potential value of what seemed to be such a rare occurrence in nature. A perfect Star of David in the color of Israel’s flag! After bringing it to my friends at the GIA , it was subsequently reported on and published in the widely acclaimed GIA quarterly journal, Gems and Gemology. I have posted the G&G entry here. The explanation given for the “miracle” was that of "preferential etching”, a natural process of partial dissolution after the formation of the crystal.

Some time after, on a trip to Sri Lanka, a dealer who had seen the Winter 1985 issue of G&G, remarked to me how: “This is a Star of David, and YOU ARE DAVID!!” I’m still not certain whether the dealer even knew what a Star of David signified.

The aquamarine did not impress any of the fine mineral dealers in my circle: ““Not on matrix. Not glassy enough. Not clean enough. No big deal. Who cares?” It is true what they said. There have been other such occurrences of “Stars” on terminations in other minerals, which grow in the Hexagonal System of Crystal Symmetry such as the sapphire referenced in the G&G article.

Most people who saw the crystal were, indeed, fascinated, while others scoffed at the “miraculous” nature of the formation. Nowhere have I understood the meaning behind “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder”, more, than in the gem business.

What finally happened to this controversial piece? Eventually I decided to let it go to a very good home. A diamond dealer named Israel was the fortunate one to acquire the aquamarine, and at a very reasonable price. I wish to him a very Happy New Year and to the Sri Lankan dealer who sold me the crystal, I extend a wish of Eid al-Adha Mubarak!

Tino Hammid Photography

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Antique Cat's-Eye Alexandrite Brooch

Alexandrite was first discovered in the emerald mines of the Ural Mountains in 1833. The naming of the material and its discovery has always been linked with the coming of age of Tsarevich Alexander Nikolaevich, the future Tsar Alexander II. Due to its phenomenal property to change in color from green in daylight to red under incandescent light it has also been linked to the Russian Imperial colors (red and green).

This brooch is made of silver and gold and is set with old mine cut and rosecut diamonds. Natural pearls are suspended from the brooch, which is centered by a 14.52 carat Cat’s-eye Alexandrite. The cabochon-cut gem was more than likely traded from Sri Lanka (Ceylon) to Russia and for which the brooch was made between the 1860’s and 1890’s.

Traditionally, diamonds and pearls were set in silver to offset their whiteness, and the piece was backed in gold to protect a woman’s skin and clothing from the inevitable tarnish. The exceptional workmanship and attention to detail, such as the removable, rock crystal topped compartment behind the gem, for what was likely a locket of hair, is also typical of jewels made at this time.

Alexandrites with very good color change are rare over 5 carats and command ever escalating prices; while cat’s-eye alexandrites, with a clean sharp eye and dramatic color change rank as one of the rarest and most costly of gems.

In honor of this sumptuous brooch, I open this blog of My Adventure in the Gem Trade. I've had a special relationship with this particular jewel for over 25 years and my various attempts to sell the piece always brought greater appreciation for the gem. The privilege to offer this jewel for sale over the years helped me to grow as a gem merchant; bumps and bruises along the way. It also brought me into contact with many extraordinary characters on several continents!

At last, I sold this "Cat's-eye Alex" recently! We won't discuss the price. I take bittersweet pleasure in saying au revoir to a dear, old friend, until we meet again...

And in the Gem Trade, it so happens that, sometimes jewels will find their way back to the merchant, for yet, another fling!

Van Pelt Photography

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