The Sparkle Was Always There
There's a funny thing about life paths: you think you're choosing them, but half the time they'rechoosing you… usually while you're just trying to sneak a nap.
I grew up surrounded by gold and gemstones — literally. Some kids played with Legos; I played with loupe lenses and diamond papers. My dad is a master jeweler — the master jeweler — the kind who now does side jobs for Harry Winston and Graff like it's no big deal. He's happiest at his bench, soldering and shaping tiny pieces of magic. Meanwhile, my mom ran the business side with zero formal schooling but enough instinct to negotiate a deal in her sleep.
Naturally, everyone wanted to know what I would become. Spoiler: my dad refused to teach me how to make jewelry because "it's not a job for girls." But my mom? She had other plans.
Right after high school she casually asked, "Do you want to become a Gemologist?" And I, desperately craving a small academic hiatus, said the most non-committal "sure" in human history.
There was a two-year waiting list for the NYC GIA program, so she marched me into headquarters, signed me up, and we planned to basically forget about it until 2000-something.
Then… Two days later, the phone rings.
A student's visa didn't go through. They needed someone local. I was the only one in New York. The spot was mine if we paid in full within 24 hours.
I called my mom hoping — no, PRAYING — she didn't have the money because I wanted a few glorious months of freedom. Maybe backpack Europe. Maybe sleep.
She had the money. Of course she did.
So the following Monday, eighteen-year-old me started the 9-to-5 Graduate Gemologist program.
And honestly? I crushed it. Top of my class. Finished two weeks early. They had to mail in extra diamonds because I was sitting there twiddling my thumbs like an overachieving gremlin.
The head of the school even pulled me aside and offered me a position at GIA. My whole family glowed with pride… until we saw the salary.
So I did what any ambitious, slightly stubborn, newly-minted gem nerd would do: I politely declined and followed the more exciting business opportunities calling my name.
For years, I said that was one of my only regrets.
But the older, wiser, MomCEO version of me knows this: It was never a missed opportunity — it was a stepping stone.
If I had joined GIA, maybe I'd be grading diamonds beautifully… but would I have built something of my own? Would I have jumped into the real world where knowledge becomes a skill and a skill becomes a livelihood?
Probably not.
And let me tell you — after two decades in this industry, everything has changed. Diamonds dropped more than half in value. Color stones doubled (if not tripled). And gold? Well… I think you know how I feel about gold by now.
So here's the takeaway I wish I could whisper to my eighteen-year-old self (and maybe to your kids too):
Don't put all your eggs in one basket — even if that basket is sparkly, insured, and stored in a vault. Diversify. Stay curious. Be open to pivots. And remember that your path is rarely a straight line — it's usually a zigzag covered in gold dust, detours, and moments you only understand in hindsight.
Love,
Gemma and Jules's mom — lover of gold, growth, and unexpected plot twists