“While [they] do custom designing they are unable to do the exact ring that you have so beautifully designed.  I spent most of the morning discussing the changes we had talked about, and they still feel even with the changes, they are unable to design the ring that you are dreaming of. ”

That striking blow landed in my inbox on August 3rd, causing our enthusiastic, however cautious, optimism to nearly disappear. Surely, what we desired and carefully considered was possible to construct, right?

Just a few months earlier, the topic of “the ring” arose, and my future fiancée completely baffled me with one word: “vintage”. Hoping for a basic level of understanding, I tasked her with homework; A few days later she was to present several images exuding this “vintage” design she so desired, and that’s really how the ring story begins.

We sat at her Mac while my eyes perused the selection, and her eyes worriedly studied mine. She quickly becomes uneasy when I’m silent. After a tortuous moment or two, we started rating each ring on iPhoto, discussing the intricacy of the designs we shared positive feelings for, and continued until only a handful or so remained.

The original design we mutually appreciated most appears to the right, and is best described as a 1920s/30s art replica engagement ring, featuring a huge 1.76 carat center diamond, with a half carat filling out the rest to boot. The less-than-stellar certification of the diamond Rose threw off the boat at the end of Titanic triggered concern, and the fact that the ring could only be seen online prior to purchase made it a non-starter.

We visited an antique store to get a feel for the vintage rings in person. Well, the idea was great…

Whereas the first jeweler we approached demonstrated tact and genuine care, the antique store owner threw the kitchen sink at us, loudly declaring the cost of each ring and how much they’d be willing to go down upon purchase. Jenni and I weren’t terribly private about finances at this point, but even then, the last thing I wanted my future fiancee to concern herself with was price.

Returning to my house somewhat distraught, we again discussed the original ring we both liked. Jenni mentioned how she’d want to see the same ring, except with a twist (literally). What if we turned the center several degrees like a baseball diamond? Without skipping a beat, I booted up Photoshop and the following resulted:

Vintage, yet somehow beautifully modern.We knew that was it. That’s the ring I’d slide on her finger.

The first jeweler was beyond nice, offering help above and beyond whatever commission she stood to make from the sale. After falling in love with an amazing diamond, we initiated talk of design, a piece of the puzzle considered by both of us to possess perhaps more importance than the diamond itself. I presented the Photoshopped images and the jeweler gushed it was a gorgeous design, her boss and colleagues reportedly agreeing upon viewing the printed pre-visualizations.

We returned to the store several days later to see the designs the company conjured up based on our explicit instructions and visual aids. Jenni and I still remember eating dinner following the meeting with our jaws on the floor, wondering how much worse they could have botched the designs. No, we did not want “elements” of our design. We wanted our design. They could have sent us back an exact digital drawing of the ring I Photoshopped and they would have made a happy customer, but even saying they weren’t close still gives them too much credit.

The email excerpt at the top of this post was in response to the message I sent them calmly and clearly explaining our desires. I shared the disappointing news with Jenni, but determined, I promised to obtain a more promising second opinion sooner rather than later. A dear family friend highly recommended their jeweler, referencing some impressive customer service and even more impressive results. Could this be our guy?

The son of an experienced jeweler, Brian Iroff conveyed a comforting confidence concerning our collection of carefully compiled caricatures, convincing us his carat, color, cut, and clarity compare to none. (I didn’t originally intend the alliteration, but after the first three Cs, I couldn’t stop).

Brian said he could absolutely create our design without a problem. The previous jeweler stated they couldn’t figure a way to properly support the center, an idea we scoffed at but still asked our new jeweler. Again, he replied no problem, and after selecting a diamond seemingly infinitely more fiery than our original, I handed over the down payment and we were in business.

A few days later, the following arrived in my inbox and my heart jumped:

I promptly forwarded the images to Jenni with the text, “I’M SO EXCITED :)” which may have been an understatement. Iroff somehow drew something that exceeded our expectations, and that was only on the computer, before the custom hand carving completed the design. He received our full approval and then the next month, I placed this on Jenni’s finger when asking her to spend the rest of her life with me:

It really is even more beautiful in person. Jenni has since been given two citations for temporarily blinding other drivers and directly causing traffic accidents. (Ok, one of the previous sentences is false). I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend anyone to Iroff and Son Jewelers. Throughout the ring buying process, Jenni and I developed invaluable communication skills, nurtured an ability to happily compromise, and proved that we’d work hard for our dreams, an experience I’d never trade. While this post serves the primary purpose of sharing the ring story with friends and family, I’m looking forward to reading it again in several years, knowing the priceless joy revisiting this experience will bring 🙂

Until Next Time,
Daniel