OK, I answered a Craigslist ad yesterday for a purchaser for stones and beads for a high-end jewelry designer in Brooklyn. I said in the ad that in addition to the administrative requirements, which I met, I have bought stones and beads for eight years as a jewelry hobbyist. The guy replied almost immediately and asked about my salary requirements. I told him, and noticing that his last name was the same as one of my favorite contemporary jewelry designers, I asked if they were connected, and they are. He told me about the salary arrangement: it's a good number based on a five-day work week, but the work week is only four days just now, probably going to five days early next year. The four-day salary is a mite light, but I said it would be fine. What he actually said was, "If we offer you the position pending a positive interview, would this be acceptable for your salary needs?" That sounds to me like he's fairly sold on me already. So I have an interview on Friday, and get this -- the studio is about six blocks from where I live! how amazing is that? Just the idea of working six blocks from home, buying stones and beads for one of my favorite contemporary jewelry designers...how cool is that? (In addition, because I'm familiar with the designer's work, I already know what kinds of stones and beads he works with.) I'm supposed to meet with the contact and one of his "associates" -- I'm wondering is it's going to be the designer.
When I lived in Manhattan, in the east 50s (I lived there for eight years before I met Barry and moved back to Brooklyn -- my Manhattan apartment was way too small for two), I loved walking around the city. Almost every Saturday, I would walk across to the west side, go to the Donnell Library (a much better branch than my local one was), and do some strolling and window-shopping. Since I was already insane about jewelry (though not yet making my own), I would usually look in Tiffany. In the days when my credit was better, I got a Bergdorf's credit card, though I rarely used it for anything more than cologne and cosmetics (with the exception of one occasion when I splurged on a $700 coat, marked down from $1,200, which was huge money in 1988 -- and I still wear the coat!). But I would often go into Bergdorf's on those strolling Saturdays, mostly looking at the first-floor cosmetics and accessories. That's where I spotted this guy's jewelry, which was too expensive for me at the time, but I fell in love with his work.
I have five contemporary jewelry designers I love, and actually own work by two of them (sterling Elsa Peretti earrings, and a Chan Luu necklace, five strands of coral beads, that I won in a drawing from Fragments). (The stuff Chan Luu is showing now on Fragments is not nearly as nice as some of her older stuff.) I got the Elsa Perettis by being a bit of a pig -- a fairly distant relative sent Barry and me a cake stand from Tiffany as a wedding gift, something we wouldn't use in a dozen lifetimes. I cashed it in, and instead of getting something for us, I got the Elsa Peretti earrings to wear at my wedding. Actually, Barry had gotten me a pair of Elsa Peretti sterling heart stud earrings for the first birthday I had after we met (I got him a pricey Native American sterling bracelet), but I lost one. I also have a sterling heart-link bracelet from Tiffany that my folks gave me when I graduated college in '93. I'm not that label-crazy, but then again, maybe I am when it comes to jewelry. And Tiffany, let's face it, is Tiffany.
I gave that collectibles gallery one last shot -- e-mailed them and said, in a polite way, hey, weren't you going to get back to me for a second interview? I did hear back, and of course the response was very different than what I'd originally been told, but it was worth a shot.
Barry is still deep in whatever's going on with him. He's having a foot problem on top of everything else, so I'm going with him to the podiatrist today.
Maybe I'm more attracted to the herbal guy (I suppose I can call him Herb) more than I thought, because I've recently found myself somewhat drawn to a couple of tall, thin Asian dudes on TV. Go fig.