Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote

Wedding bells are in the air again. My best friend M got engaged the day after Thanksgiving, and we have been abuzz with phone calls and emails ever since. She has asked me to be her matron of honor, which sounds really fun, despite knowing that I will have to reach the high bar she set when she was my maid of honor.

M’s engagement ring is a traditional Tiffany Setting solitaire, which we enjoyed cooing snobbishly over because I also have a Tiffany engagement ring (“I’m so glad that you have one too, so we can talk about how much better our rings are than other peoples’!”). And all this talk about Tiffany and wedding planning reminds me, of course, of my own story.

One day in the summer of 2004, E and I were talking idly of ring shopping, and decided on the spur of the moment to stop into a jewelry store by our house to take a look. Not satisfied with that, we also went to two other stores in town, including the Tiffany branch in Walnut Creek. That afternoon, we discussed the merits of paying the premium for Tiffany, and agreed that the significance and mystique of Tiffany name was indeed worth the extra cost. Then E hit upon the idea of getting the ring from the Tiffany on 5th Avenue in New York City. This was a wonderful idea, as I am from New York, just outside the city, and I love it there. What a romantic idea.

So that winter, we spent the week before Christmas in New York City. Our trip was busy— full of dinner plans with friends, Broadway shows, and destinations we wanted to visit. We decided to go to Tiffany on a Monday morning. On Sunday evening, E said, “we have to be in the hotel lobby at 9:00 tomorrow.”

“OK,” I replied suspiciously. E is not one to plan ahead, usually.

The next morning, as we reached the lobby, I could see a Town Car waiting at the curb, and E led me straight to it. The driver opened the door for me, and as an aside, told E that his “stuff” was in the trunk. They went around and took out a long cardboard box full of roses, which E presented to me inside. “Tiffany on 5th Avenue, please,” he told the driver, and off we went.

The Tiffany on 5th Avenue occupies an entire building. It has five levels full of the most beautifully crafted objects in the history of mankind. The engagements rings cover an entire floor of the building, and we took the elevator directly there. Once the elevator doors opened, there were the display cases, practically as far as the eye could see. As I approached the first counter with wonder, the saleswoman asked if she could be of assistance.

“Yes,” replied E. “We’re here to see Gary.”

That was when I knew I had been duped into believing that Monday morning was my idea. It was also when I knew whatever was going to happen was going to be good.

Gary welcomed us and led us to a small private viewing room off the main floor. We all sat down, and he began with a bit of a prepared speech, telling us about his years with Tiffany, his gemology education, and some of his experiences with celebrity customers through the years. Gary was Jackie Onassis’ personal jeweler! He also mentioned that he had met Audrey Hepburn once at a fundraiser, when, for the one and only time in the store’s history, they served breakfast at Tiffany. Then he paused. “Until today.”

Gary’s assistant entered, bearing a (Tiffany silver) tray upon which sat (Tiffany) china and (Tiffany) flatware, an assortment of pastries and fruit, and a (Tiffany) coffee service. And there, in a private viewing room on the engagement ring floor of the Tiffany building on 5th Avenue in New York City, we ate breakfast.

It didn’t take long to choose a ring after we had eaten. I have tiny hands—a size 3¼-- so I preferred a smaller stone, and there were only a limited number of small stones in the Lucida setting to choose from. And because it needed resizing, we were not able to walk out with our prize that day. So even though E’s actual proposal took place a few days later (a story for another time), our “Breakfast at Tiffany” is my romantic engagement story that I will enjoy telling for years to come.

Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote

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