My girlfriend and I were sitting at a swanky Downtown bar when the table next to us suddenly erupted at the sight of a hand aloft with a sparkling glint. They began loudly appraising the stone—and the unseen fiancée behind its procurement. “He did such a good job,” we overheard. And, “good boy.” You know, the phrases one might otherwise say about a well-behaved beagle.
“He did, he did,” the newly engaged woman replied to the group. Her ring was massive, crossing over her ring finger to cover her middle and pinky. Around its huge diamond, a halo of smaller diamonds sparkled. The band was set with diamonds as well. The size and shimmer made it easy to see from one table over, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was visible from the moon.
My girlfriend Mary—not her real name—and I have been together for just over two years now, and are in our early 30s. We haven’t fully arrived at an engagement ourselves, but it seems to be on the horizon. We’ve had the “conversation” a few times: We love each other, we live together, and we enjoy being around each other. It feels like the only thing left is time.
“You know,” Mary said, leaning in with a smile. “If I were ever to get engaged to someone—hypothetically, of course—I would want to pick my own ring.”
By the time we finished our drinks and headed home, my head was churning with ideas. Mary wanted the safety of choosing her own ring; I wanted the romance of an unexpected gesture. I landed on something that combined both: a surprise engagement ring–shopping getaway. It wouldn’t be the engagement itself, but it would have all of the sparkle. Mary could explore her preferences against the backdrop of a romantic destination.
Marilyn Monroe said diamonds are a girl’s best friend. Audrey Hepburn said Paris is always a good idea. Only one locale seemed worthy of the occasion.
For our non-engagement engagement trip, I pulled out all the stops. After all, what people think they want can be very different from what they actually want—and being asked to look at engagement rings with someone isn’t exactly the equivalent of actually saying “yes” to a proposal. I figured I should try to create the most conducive environment possible.
Luckily, Mary was uncommonly laissez-faire about our plans. She knew we were going to Paris—but she didn’t know where we’d be staying or the agenda. However, when our Uber rolled up to the palatial Le Bristol, she started to get a sense. The hotel, which is celebrating its centennial this year, surpasses every luxury: There are plush robes, private balconies with city views, and lots of champagne.
The next morning, room service rolled into our room with a cart of fruit plates and pastries. I sprung the news: We’d be walking around Paris to try on engagement rings. In one gulp, Mary finished her drink.
But first, another surprise: a manicure at Spa Le Bristol by La Mer. One needs to have their hands in tip-top shape to try on engagement rings, naturally.
Afterwards, we were off. I’d made appointments at five different spots, ranging from small antique boutiques to designer shops to online start-ups with huge stockpiles. Mary had specified that she liked vintage rings—and, critically, did not want a massive diamond like the one we’d seen on the woman at the bar.
Our first appointment was at Osprey, a small shop on Rue Saint-Honoré that sells everything from pearls to opals to gemstones. Inside, there’s a large window of thick glass between the client and jeweler, making it so you must speak with raised voices to hear each other through the glass. Mary described the styles she was interested in, and with a nod, the jeweler went to a back room and returned with three ring boxes. He slid each under a small dip in the glass, like a bank teller. Each ring was pretty, but they all had a setting with a raised stone—something Mary was certain would get caught on her clothes. It was a promising start to the search, but not the place we’d find “the one.”
The next stop on the list was Douze, a chic shop in Saint Germain, where the pieces are simple, tasteful, and elegant. Based on Mary’s reaction to the assortment, it was definitely closer to what she had in mind. Though the pieces aren’t antiques, they’re crafted with a designer’s vision and a similar to the style of jewelry she already owns. We took a business card and left with a new dose of optimism.
Next on the tour was Loyal.E, a new brand that uses lab-grown diamonds. Though it’s a much-debated issue for would-be brides and grooms, it is impossible to tell unless you’re a trained gemologist with a jewelers loop to your eye. Mary isn’t one to scoff at such a thing, but we were concerned that the designs would be too traditional: big prongs hoisting up larger than life rocks. While the rings were pretty, it was actually the showroom that threw us off: It had a vibe similar to a Warby Parker. We moved on.
At lunch at the nearby Le Deux Magots, we discussed the options. We’d been looking at rings that were well within our budget, but all of them had started to blur together in our minds. I realized we needed a new perspective: We should look at something wildly different in size and price to get a larger sense of what was out there.
We walked into Chopard at around 3 p.m., where a woman wearing white gloves escorted us through the showroom. She probably knew we weren’t about to become Chopard customers—but then again, this is the age of hoodie-wearing crypto-billionaires who secretly own yachts, so maybe not. Mary saw the whole endeavor as a funny potential waste of time, but since no experiment is complete without a control group, I insisted. The woman presented a ring with a diamond the size of a nickel. Mary slipped it over her finger. “How much is this one?” I asked.
“Only $238,000 euro. It’s quite beautiful, no?”
Both Mary and I widened our eyes. Suddenly, it was as if we were looking at a glowing stick of plutonium. Mary guided the ring off her finger as gently as possible, lest it shatter in her hands. We left ringless soon after, but we definitely had a new perspective.
We sifted through a few other antique dealers in the area, then headed to our last appointment at the 16th arrondissement office of Castafiore, a relatively new start-up that scours the internet for antique rings. With thousands of well-curated options, they’re perfect for anyone who wants something unique, as long as they are willing to sift through the sizes.
We sipped tea in a small showroom while the brand’s founders, Charlotte and Anne, brought out a few pieces on a felted tray. Several had a so-called “gypsy” setting in which the diamond was embedded into the band. As Charlotte and Anne went over each of the ring’s histories, I noticed Mary’s gaze kept fluttering to one of the gypsy rings.
On our last afternoon in Paris, Mary went off to have lunch with a friend, and I went back to the 16th arrondissement to visit Castafiore again. Later, Mary didn’t ask where I had gone—we both knew where I was.