London is one of my favorite cities in the world. For many reasons, I love this capital: the architecture, the history, the legends, the black taxis with their ‘knowledge’ and the omnipresent grey shadows casting the city in an almost permanent haze of a film-noir. Then there’s the newspaper vendors selling the London Evening Standard, shouting out the headlines of the day in a never ending competition with the noise of the double-decker red buses that chug along the high-streets carrying bankers, students, musicians and housewives through the city’s over clogged arteries.

 

But, more than anything, I love the way London, one of the world's biggest cities, is really a group of little villages bordering each other, each neighborhood different to the next. From the riches of Knightsbridge, bordering the Sloaney Chic of Chelsea; the financial capital of Europe - the Square Mile - backing onto the East End and its ever-changing face; or, the touristy shopping and entertainment mecca of the West End, just a brisk walk from the cobbled streets and painted houses of Notting Hill and Portobello Market, London to me is more than a city. It’s a way of life. You can’t be blas? about London. As Samuel Johnson noted, “When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford.” A sentiment penned in 1777, remaining as true today as it was 229 years ago.

 

Asprey

My first experience of a great London jewelry store was as a young child accompanying my mother into the imposing portals of Asprey and Garrard. We had traveled up to London specially to visit the jewelers. My mother, clutching a silver watch inherited from her grandmother, wanted to know how much - literally how much - her grandmother’s love was worth. For years the watch had languished in a drawer, its ticking little more than a memory. It was time, my mother said, to get it fixed. Her main reason for repairing the watch was her thinking that it might be cheaper to get it mended than to buy a new watch. According to our local jeweler, the only company that carried the parts was Asprey. And so, a day out in London was scheduled and off we trouped.

 

The store is located, in one of London’s most exclusive shopping enclaves. Its elegant front showcase windows displays glittering symbols of luxury ensuring passers-by have no choice but to stop in awe in front of multi-million dollar works of art. I remember the doorman ushering us into this secret world of the super rich. I remember being buzzed into the area where the ‘watchman’- for want of a better word- was waiting for us. And, I remember in detail a sales assistant taking my sister and I around the store while my mother talked to the watchman.

 

The sales assistant showed us a huge, silver, hand-crafted boat perched on a rock of crystal. She draped us both in jewels and let us touch the pieces as if we were treasured customers, not bratty pre-teens playing dress-up. It was a wonderful morning. One that today I remember with great fondness, and one I hoped would not be ruined as I was about to enter the store for the second time in my life.

 

The doorman was still there, still opening this Narnia cupboard into a different world - hushed from the noise of outside life. The dark wood cabinets are still there, holding their extravagant dreams. The watch department was there. There was even a ship, similar to the one locked in my mind. It was as if I was playing rewind in a movie. After browsing for a few moments, we were approached by an incredibly elegant sales associate who asked if he could help. “Just a souvenir” we explained and I told him of my first Asprey experience.

 

He smiled and led us to the watch department where repairs and valuations were taking place. “Just so you know what your mother was doing,” he explained. The store still carries an amazing array of exclusive timepieces including Piguet, Patek Phillipe, Au de mars and Rolex. The repairs and service department is probably one of the most renowned in England. As my mother discovered, it didn’t matter whether the piece was purchased at Asprey or not, the service then, and by the looks of things today, is still a flag-bearer for others to behold.

 

As we carried on looking for a ‘souvenir’, the sales associate would stop by with some of the most amazing and extravagant pieces just to show us and explain the features and components, as if he were a tour guide. Customized board games, silverware, diaries and of course jewelry were shown off, more for our amusement, than as prospective buyers. We were having fun. It was probably the first time I’d ever had fun in a jewelry store. More to the point, we were having this oft talked about, but rarely provided ‘experience’. I’d had it in the store thirty years earlier and I was having it again.

 

Fair enough, not every store is an Asprey or even close to it. But Asprey was providing something that every retailer can. They were making sure that every person who walks through their door, no matter how they dress, how much of a ‘potential’ buyer they are, is given as much attention and interest as would be to their most famed clients of all, the royal family.

 

At the end of the day we did indeed buy a souvenir. A gift for my mother. (I still can’t believe that I bought retail.) It was a souvenir of a day spent 30 years ago. A souvenir to remind us that time well spent is time productive. (In this case, £300 or around $530 productive.)

 

De Beers LV

A couple of years ago, not long after the much-heralded and less than well-received opening of the London De Beers LV store, I visited the place to see just what all the grumbling was about. Regardless of how much De Beers LV would like to change the perception of the London store as being one of the most unfriendly jewelry shops around, it appears that the reputation is well deserved. I’m sorry De Beers LV, but the store just doesn’t cut it. Coming back for a repeat visit, it was clear not much had changed. The only experience I had in the store was the experience of wanting to leave as soon as possible. It was luxury, aka Asprey, but it was luxury that screamed, “Should you really be here?” By all accounts, sales at the store have improved, with the 2005/6 season indicating the herald of an upturn in the flagship store’s fortunes. But, from what I witnessed, the uptick in sales can hardly be contributed to the power of the De Beers LV buying experience.

 

The second the buzz sounds to let you in, you get the feeling that if you need to ask the price then you should probably high-tail it out of there. Unlike Asprey’s, the extremely attractive sales associate wasn’t prepared to act as tour guide to the store and it’s products. “Are you looking for something in particular?” began the opening gambit. We mentioned we’d seen the line featuring leather inset with diamonds and would like to see some items from the collection. We were offered a seat, and off she left. An offer of a drink would have been appreciated. Hey, even a few pretty pictures to look at, rather than sitting in silence in the darkened atmosphere of a funeral home-slash-vault would have been preferable. We started to twitch. This wasn’t fun. On the opposite side of the street the famed chocolate counters of Fortnum and Mason were calling our names. At that point, I would have much preferred to be browsing a selection of cream truffles than waiting to browse this selection of jewelry.

 

That’s not to say that there weren’t some amazing diamond pieces in the store. We were looking at one necklace, talking about violet-cream filled white chocolates in hushed tones when the sales assistant reappeared. There was no explanation forthcoming about the necklace. She certainly wasn’t there to explain about the company; rather she was there to show us what we were talking about and, that’s about it. We were bored; we’d waited almost five minutes by ourselves, which, when you’re in a store just footsteps away from some of the most divine chocolate in Europe, is a long time. Besides, leaving a customer alone for such a long period of time would normally result in them disappearing as quickly as their desire to buy from your store. But, in this case, we were doing a job and had to stay.   

 

Then the sales pitch began. Rather mundane, certainly missing the passion we’d heard up the road at Asprey. The designs themselves were great; cutting-edge, different and noticeably “De Beers LVish”. But the prices were laughable. After all, we are talking leather with tiny diamonds here.

 

Would I recommend a visit to this store? Only if you want to see how not to design a jewelry store. I know it has won awards. I know it’s a flagship in design. But as we all know, sometimes the critics slam a blockbuster and heap rave reviews on a story that sends us to sleep, regardless of the ‘stunning’ cinematography. Ever seen 2016? A movie with a parallel story to the De Beers LV store. The critics lauded this Chinese film for its complex and intricately woven plot. Apart from one ‘movie aficionado’ whose taste is eclectic to say the least, not one person I know enjoyed the movie - rather like De Beers LV in London. Its store design may have won awards, but it ain’t filling the seats.   

 

Hatton Garden

Our final stop after a busy day diamond shopping and chocolate gorging was a small jewelry store in the Hatton Garden area of London. Hatton Garden is to London, what 47th Street is to New York. A cluster of diamond and jewelry shops harking back to another time. Wares, even if they are sparkling and worth millions, fight for space in cramped windows in an area of the city often overlooked by wandering, camera-happy tourists. The area has been the center of London’s jewelry trade since medieval times. Long before the DTC opened its doors on Charterhouse Street, the area was already regarded as the ‘Empire's’ diamond hub. The Empire has since long gone, but today over 55 stores, the London Diamond Exchange, Gem Labs, Diamond Brokers and of course the DTC ensure that Hatton Garden is the place in the UK to find a jewel at the lowest mark-up possible.

 

Shopping in the area is more a mission than a relaxing experience. You have to know what you want and be prepared to do your homework beforehand. Store windows are crammed with pieces. Window dressing is not a word applicable in this neighborhood. As in 47th Street, sales people hover in doorways waiting for passing foot traffic. While they may not approach you, it is incredibly off-putting. In fact, many of the passers-by would deliberately speed up if they saw a spider at the entrance to the jewelry web, preferring to take their time looking at a window where they felt comfortable and where harassment would not be forthcoming.

 

I was tired, sugared-up and, to be honest, not in the best mood to attempt to seriously investigate the retail experience of jewelry shopping in Hatton Garden. You need time, energy and an open mind. I had neither. Too many pit stops whilst crossing the city meant the day was coming to a dreary grey London end and the winter sales were providing a too heavy work-out for my arms. Still, there was no doubt; I looked like a serious buyer. I had the multiple bags to prove it.

 

The first and only jewelry store I entered was, well, to be polite, a shame on the industry. The windows were cluttered with pieces ranging from estate items to Rolex Watches; certified GIA loose diamonds to engagement bands featuring myriad gemstones. Earrings, pendants, cufflinks and, strangely enough, ornaments all jostled for space in the dirty vitrine. I suppose the owner was going for the ‘bazaar’ look. You could almost smell the Turkish coffee and cries of “for you nice lady, I give very good price.”

 

I popped inside, weighed down by my out-of-season Jimmy Choo bargain buys and cashmere throws. Unfortunately, there was no space to even put down the bags for a moment. On either side of the floor were two long counters flanked by high school metal chairs. The aisle in the middle was definitely not ‘handicap-friendly’. In fact, you couldn’t even walk through the store without moving the chairs.

 

A smiling gentlemen in a rumpled cardigan and in need of a shave approached asking if I needed help. “I was looking for a souvenir to take home,” I muttered. “Perhaps a little pendant, something with an antique feel,” I groaned, regretting the seventh chocolate violet cr?me I’d gobbled down outside. He smiled again and waited. I waited some more. He waited some more. It was the waiting game and I was out to win it. I did. After a minute he responded. “Yes,” “Yes,” I replied. “Did you see something in the window?” he asked. “Well I saw you had an interesting collection that caught my eye; could you show me a few pendants?” I asked again.

 

The waiting game - round two began. If I wasn’t English, I would have thought this was some old custom I’d missed in the travel guide. “Well, can you show me which you wanted to see?” he asked. Unfortunately, as in other UK stores you’ll read about later, this meant traipsing outside to huddle around the window and provide directions. “No, no, more to the left, down two rows. No, the pendant, not the watch,” was the next step. He pulled out one rather ugly art-deco looking pendant. I walked back into the store and asked why the silver was so tarnished. The response was that if I took it home and cleaned it with some silver cleaner, it would come out like new. Well, that’s just dandy, I thought, and wondered why he hadn’t done that himself. I suppose all this could be forgiven if the price was truly a ‘market style’ price. But, it wasn’t. At some point I wondered if this was a real store or just a portal to Diagon Alley for Harry Potter and his cohorts.

 

It certainly seemed more Diagon Alley than jewelry central. The salesperson (or owner) showed a distinct lack of interest in his only customer and seemed rather relieved when I said “No, this isn’t what I was after.” He put the piece behind the counter and began round three of the waiting game. I conceded and left.