THE PRINCE OF 47TH STREET
His eyes go cold. “You’re a junkie,” mutters Stephen Herdemian. I jerk my elbows off his glass counter filled with objects of my desire.
My idea of a great vacation would be to try on Steve’s thousands and thousands of one-of-a-kind pieces of antique jewelry. And ask him all about provenance and price.
Steve (whom I think of as the prince of 47th Street) puts away the 15th ring I’ve admired on my smallest finger today. The 1940s diamond buckle ring would cost three times more on Madison Avenue. And it gives me a new persona—that of tough power-player.
Steve studies my face. “You’ll buy this ring, even if you owe two months rent.” Read more









