In diamond district, ice isn't only thing that shines

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By Kelly Bare / For the Lincoln Journal Star

It's been a relatively mild winter in New York, but there's one place where there's always plenty of ice: the diamond district. I've wanted to write about it for a while, so when I had to go there for a story I'm writing for my day job (more on that next time), I figured that in the spirit of a good N.Y. bargain, I might as well get two for one.

The district, famous as a destination for bargain-priced gems and fine jewelry of all kinds, is really just one long block: 47th Street between Fifth and Sixth avenues. You can take the subway to the corner of 47th and Sixth, as I did, and come up right in the thick of the action.

"What are you looking for today, ma'am? Shopping for yourself?"

"Interested in some jewelry today?"

And the classic, "Excuse me, miss, can I just ask you one question?"

The Midwesterner in me remains a sucker for that one. I've heard the same innocent-sounding opener so many times in so many places that I don't come to a full stop anymore, but I still haven't subdued the reflex to slow down and glance, inviting an inevitably obnoxious sales pitch for a spa package or knife sharpener or psychic reading.

He leapt on my barely perceptible hesitation.

"Why aren't you wearing any socks? It's freezing out here!"

I wasn't wearing any socks, and it was freezing, but I wasn't in the mood to explain. "I got dressed in a hurry," I mumbled, and picked up the pace. Besides, he wasn't really concerned — he'd just like me to warm up inside his store.

These swarms of pitchmen —literally called "hawkers" — are a big reason for the district's slightly smarmy reputation. They try to get their talons in you both out on the street and inside the 25 jewelry "exchanges" that dot the block. If you actually screw up the courage to go inside one, you'll find up to 100 independent businesses at separate booths, and people calling out to you from all sides.

Of course, there's only more and more retailing — and desperate tourist-trapping — going on in the diamond district because the longtime wholesale business is moving elsewhere. A Web site that offers consumer advice about the district (www.47th-street.com) says more than 90 percent of the diamonds that enter this country come through New York, most of them through the diamond district, but those in the know say that's changing.

Lincoln native Katie Vigna has worked in the jewelry business in New York for more than six years. Now she's director of public relations for Di Modolo, a fine jewelry company based in Italy, and she works in an office above the flagship boutique at 59th Street and Madison Avenue, worlds away from the buzz and hustle of the district.

But she's done other things in the industry, including designing her own jewelry, and her boyfriend, Lenny Krol, does business on 47th for KC Designs, his diamond jewelry line (available at Borsheim's).

"A lot of the business is going overseas," Katie says. "There are so many different facets of the industry. The setters, the sorters, polishers, bench workers, cutters … a lot of people are going out of business. So 47th has changed and has become a lot more commercial than it used to be. They're trying to save it, get the tourists, the people who think it's fun to buy a diamond on 47th."

Katie, who has hosted a diamond sample sale at her apartment and once boarded an airplane with $160,000 worth of jewelry in her carry-on bag, is clearly not one of those people. "Being in the industry, you get a different feeling than a tourist who is tooling around and looking at diamonds. You always go with a wary eye, wondering who's trying to take you," she warns.

Her skepticism is absolutely warranted. But of the more than 2,600 independent businesses on the street, there is surely a handful worth your time and money.

One is 1,873 Unusual Wedding Rings, a second-generation, family-owned stall that actually stocks more than 4,000 styles of wedding rings — and nothing but wedding rings. I first saw the oddly named store in a Village Voice article, but they've been written up everywhere, and after about three minutes with the proprietors, I could see why.

Bill Schifrin started the business in 1947, and though his son-in-law Herman Rotenberg is in charge now, Bill was present the afternoon I stopped by. He'll be 87 in July.

"Tell me why I'm not in Florida right now!" he demanded.

Turns out he finds his customers and their stories too fascinating to let go. Both Herman and Bill — and Herman's wife, Doris, and their two daughters — are good listeners, real "people people." And they love to talk.

As I sat at the counter, one ear tuned to potential anecdotes for my other story, I chatted with Doris about her lunch, an unsatisfactory grilled cheese from the dairy-only kosher restaurant upstairs. (Almost everyone doing business on 47th is Jewish, and many are Orthodox.) Bill shared his standard tip for meeting good men: "At the entrance to Central Park, by the reservoir. Bums don't jog!"

Herman told me about his recent sale to director Steven Soderbergh, whom he wouldn't have recognized had another filmmaker, coincidentally shopping at the counter at the same time, not tipped him off. ("Business comes in waves," Gayle Rotenberg told me with a shrug. "Sometimes it's Minnesota day, sometimes redhead day, sometimes dreadlock day. One day I'll get all Germans. It's funny.")

I watched the family repair one customer's ring, re-size another and sell a replacement band to a man who came in with his wife. ("There's a vortex in lower Manhattan, and it's sucking up white gold!")

I flipped through a three-ring binder of notes from grateful customers, many of them recognizable New York names. One, from a writer I admire, said, "If I was as good at writing magazine articles as you are at making wedding rings, I'd be happy."

I noticed a common theme among the notes: thankfulness for a wedding band they loved, procured on time and under budget, and often not paid for in full at the time it went to the altar. It seems that Bill and Herman and the gang often trust people they don't know to pay the balance of their purchase by personal check.

One customer found their business practices especially touching.

"Thank you," she wrote, "for restoring my faith in mankind."

Kelly Bare is a writer and editor in New York. She can be reached at kellybare76@yahoo.com.