Chapter Nine No Breakfast at Tiffany’s
Chapter Nine No Breakfast at Tiffany’s
Danny and Sophie began their search at the top of Bond Street, walking down towards Piccadilly, passing some of the world’s most prestigious stores, intimidating spaces with bright lighting, buffed marble floors and moneyed clientele unfazed by the sky-high price tags.
In contrast, Danny’s wide-eyed enthusiasm was a give-away that he was a newcomer.
He had smartened himself up for the day, wearing ironed cotton trousers and a short-sleeve Paul Smith shirt which he tried to tuck in, but which came free, rebelling against his efforts at respectability.
As a pair they looked like backpackers who, after many months on the road, had decided to splurge the last of their holiday cash on a fancy hotel, wearing their only vaguely smart clothes to sip vodka martinis at a rooftop bar.
The entrance to the Tiffany store was guarded by a gym-sculpted security guard dressed in a tight black suit to show off his imposing physique. Peering from the opposite side of the street Danny and Sophie loitered nervously. Sophie observed, ‘Posh places prefer you to make an appointment.’
Sounding defeated before they had even begun Danny replied, ‘Maybe we should go somewhere else?’
Sophie shook her head.
‘No way. Tiffany was number one on your list. Come on, we used to gate-crash places with tougher bouncers than this guy.’
Danny noted, ‘But we were always drunk.’
Taking Danny by the arm Sophie led him towards the entrance and after looking them up and down the security guard opened the door.
Inside Danny observed several couples seated on purple ottomans in semi-private cubicles, each with a sales assistant presenting jewellery on velvet displays.
It was closer to a boutique hotel lobby than a regular shop.
A glamorous Tiffany representative approached.
‘There are no available appointments today. We recommend returning at a time when we’ll be able to assist you. Is it for wedding rings?’
She evaluated them as a straight couple, not rich but aspirational, searching for an entry-level ring, clueless on cut and carat, relying entirely on the brand – an easy mark.
Sophie looked at Danny and smiled. Except he didn’t see the funny side.
In a hurry to correct the mistake, fearful that he was somehow undercover when he should be proudly announcing that this purchase was for a gay wedding, he said, ‘I’m looking for an engagement ring. For a man.’
The assistant repeated the words.
‘A man?’
Danny nodded.
‘A man, yes. My partner is a man. I’m marrying a man.’
Sophie added, wryly, trying to defuse the tension, ‘In case you missed it, he’s marrying a man.’
The assistant struck a placatory tone.
‘I’m sorry. We don’t sell engagement rings for men.’
Danny took a moment before blankly stating, ‘I don’t understand.’
Appreciating the sensitivity, she lowered her voice.
‘Tiffany doesn’t sell engagement rings for men.’
After a silence Sophie was the first to regroup, her good humour evaporating.
‘You sell rings, don’t you? Rings that men can wear? A ring that a man could say was an engagement ring. I mean, once the customer leaves the store, you don’t follow them around telling people it’s not an engagement ring.’
Feeling that she had done her best, the assistant crossed her arms.
‘You can certainly buy any ring you wish and give it to whoever you choose. I’m simply trying to explain that Tiffany doesn’t sell engagement rings specifically designed for men.’
Danny asked, ‘Why not?’
The question perplexed her.
‘They don’t exist.’
‘In this store?’
‘In any of the stores on this street.’
With the heat of humiliation spreading up his neck and into his cheeks, Danny wanted to grab Sophie’s arm and run out. Instead, he managed to politely say, ‘I guess we won’t be making an appointment then.’
With that, the assistant glanced at the security guard to indicate that this couple was leaving.
Back on the street Danny took out his vape and inhaled deeply, blowing a plume of strawberry-flavoured vapour into the air, hoping to expel some of his humiliation with it.
‘Didn’t Audrey Hepburn’s character say – nothing bad can ever happen to you in Tiffany’s? Guess she never tried to buy an engagement ring for a fag.’
The two of them slow-walked towards Boucheron and De Beers although there was no chance that they would continue their search with any of the prestige brands or heritage houses.
In fact, Danny wanted to call the search off altogether.
Sophie countered, ‘I admit that was a setback. But I did some digging before I travelled down and I discovered an independent jewellery designer. I already rang her and made it clear on the phone that it was for two guys. It turns out that she’s gay, but that’s not why I chose her.
I love her work. She started out selling in Covent Garden Market and she did so well she opened her own store.
I know you wanted to do this by the book, conventional and mainstream, but how about we queer-stream this operation and end up with a ring made by someone who’s excited for you rather than someone sneering at you. ’
Danny remembered the real reason why he had asked for Sophie’s help. She was brilliant and she never gave up. He kissed her on the cheek.
‘I don’t think queer-stream is a word.’
Sophie seemed disappointed and asked if he was sure.
‘Pretty sure.’
Changing the subject, Sophie lowered her voice as if to share the most scandalous piece of gossip.
‘Remember the necklace Audrey Hepburn is wearing in Breakfast at Tiffany’s? When she’s eating the pastry out of the paper bag? Well, that necklace is Chanel.’
Danny smiled for the first time since being expelled from the jewellery store.
‘Shall I tell that to the security guard?’
With defiance they locked arms, leaving Bond Street behind them. If they wouldn’t be sold a ring, they would make their own.