Rings Fashion

It was the golden hour in Los Angeles, and I was walking my dog past fig trees, lime trees, magnolias, and maples in all their backlit glory.

I could: costume jewelry, a few foreign coins, my husband’s mismatched cuff links, a watch my parents gave me when I graduated from high school, a beaded bracelet from a camp friend, and, hiding in the corner.

The golden light had soured into the oppressive heat of a squad car with no air-conditioning. A detective then pushed a manila envelope through the window of the car and asked, “Can you identify this jewelry.

I answered over-specifically in a semifrantic state, “a white popover and dusty-rose chinos.”) The police had him in custody in a matter of minutes, and pretty soon I was sitting on the plastic back seats of a police car, waiting to identify the suspect and my things. 

 I saw him from across the street, awkwardly walking down my driveway. He didn’t see me, so I followed him to a nearby gas station, where he sat down to wait for a bus and where I quietly called the police. (When the dispatcher asked what I was wearing, 

The work week was winding down with the intoxicating smell of charcoal barbecues in the air. As I ambled along, drunk on the sights and smells, a burglar was rummaging through my house, ripping open closet drawers and stuffing their contents into his pockets.

These days, diamonds, like McMansions, appear to be getting bigger and bigger. According to the American Gem Society, people spend twice as much on diamond engagement rings now than they did in 1992. 

Ostensibly, my ring was a sparkly reminder to my husband of the day he asked me to spend the rest of my life with him, but to me it was a reminder of the debt he went into to pay for it—as a graduate student, no less.

I first took the ring off when we left for our honeymoon in Buenos Aires, a city known for its empanadas, tango dancing—and pickpockets. I was so relieved to leave it at home. We sat on the plane, waiting to take off from LAX, married for only 24 hours and wearing two plain, matching bands. 

They were simple in design and simple in message: Our supposed economic status wasn’t sitting on my finger; all I saw was a perfect symbol of our commitment and love.

Pretty soon I started to take notice of chic women who wear only a plain band, and recently, I asked a few of them why. Stylist Jessica de Ruiter, known for her minimalist and utilitarian style, stacks three gold bands of different widths on her ring finger.