In 2009 I fell in love with a ring. Not just any ring… THE ring. The Yves Saint Laurent “Arty” ring.
I was working at AllSaints HQ at the time and I generally had my head between the sheets of Vogue at every opportunity. THE ring was everywhere I turned. All stunning and gold and stunning… and gold. It also came with a hefty pricetag. Not a pricetag I could have justified on a ring, on my wage; and irregardless, said-wage was spent on endless Friday’s at the Golden Heart followed by falafel wrap en route to our apartment on Regent’s Canal (this all seems like such a lifetime ago, it’s quite nice to reminisce!)
My lust for The ring grew to another level when I accompanied a friend to the YSL store on Bond Street to ACTUALLY try on The ring for his then girlfriend… he was buying her it for Christmas. Which was lovely.
I was green with envy; as you can imagine! Talk about rubbing salt into thine wounds!
Years passed and I always said, “When I pass my driving test, The ring will be mine! I will buy it as an extra special treat for my deserved achievements”. We lived in London at the time – and I was still yet to even think about booking driving lessons, never-mind pass my test!
Several more years pass and “OH MY GOD, THEY’VE DISCONTINUED THE RING”.
True story. The ring was taken out of production. It was no more. It began disappearing from all the usual retail websites. Devastated doesn’t cut it. I NEEDED The ring.
The driving lessons began back in February 2013. A mere 10 years after I SHOULD have started them, like everyone else around me. Better late than never… eh? The ring became hot topic once more. The ring spurred me on to take my first test… and the second test… and the third test… and my……… (
you get the picture). I would hunt The ring down when I’d passed my test. The ring would be mine!
My birthday this year came and we went to the City of Bath for a lovely overnight trip. Eli was good as gold and I had a really lovely birthday with my little family. I didn’t have presents. That didn’t matter, I had my little family and life is for living and memories are to be made.
A few weeks ago the game changed. Mr Memoirs was fussing about upstairs. He’d been shifty about a parcel that had arrived that said “PRIVATE DOCUMENTS” on the front. I’d obviously What’s App’ed my nearest and dearest about the parcel; who all conclusively suggested that the parcel contained house deeds, or marriage documents (are they even a thing?!). I knew it wouldn’t be either, because we’re nowhere near to reaching our dream abode and we’re nowhere near to marriage (even after a decade of adventures together!).
Mr Memoirs asked for me to bring Mr Eli upstairs for his bath… nothing out of the ordinary there.
Until I went into the bedroom. On the bed was a card and a box. The card was a Belle and Boo belated birthday card. The box was a jewellery box… and inside was… THE RING.
A belated birthday gift from my boy’s. I was stunned. I was completely gobsmacked once more at the lengths Mr Memoirs does go. And I am so so lucky!
Goodness knows how Mr Memoirs sourced it. But my god, he did good! It fits perfectly. It shines perfectly. It’s a perfect piece of art. It’s perfect. I am in love.