Dagny Solheim 
I spent six years in a grading lab looking at stones through a loupe, and if there is one thing I learned, it is that people love to make simple things complicated to justify a higher price tag. You don’t need a specialist consultation or a complex mathematical formula to understand why that sapphire band … Read more
I spent six years hunched over a microscope in a grading lab, and if there is one thing that gets under my skin, it’s seeing people pay “healing crystal” premiums for what is essentially a pretty bit of metamorphic rubble. You’ll see shops online claiming that unakite and the three minerals in one stone possess … Read more
I remember sitting in a cramped grading lab in Bergen, the air smelling of ozone and cleaning solution, staring through a loupe at a ring a woman had brought in after her grandmother passed. She was convinced it was a top-tier sapphire, but under the lens, the inclusions told a much more common story. People … Read more
I spent six years hunched over a microscope in a grading lab, and if there is one thing that makes my skin crawl, it’s the way people try to sell “magic” instead of mineralogy. I’ve seen countless sellers lean into the mysticism of chrysoberyl and the cat eye effect, treating that sharp line of light … Read more
I spent six years hunched over a microscope in a grading lab, staring at inclusions until my eyes burned, and if there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that marketing departments are terrible at physics. You’ll see a shopkeeper promise you that a beautiful, pale lilac stone is “perfect for daily wear,” but they aren’t … Read more
I spent six years hunched over a microscope in a grading lab, staring at stones until my eyes felt like they’d been scrubbed with sand. I’ve seen the way the industry tries to sell “magic” when what you’re actually looking at is a specific arrangement of atoms. Most people think choosing engagement rings set with … Read more
I remember sitting in a humid stall in Bangkok, the air thick with the smell of diesel and street food, watching a vendor press a “ruby” into a tourist’s palm. It had that sickly, uniform glow—the kind of red you see in a plastic bead dropped in a puddle—and the poor woman was beaming, thinking … Read more