It was summer – prime toe ring season. Not one to miss any opportunity, I ferried off, toe rings in hand, to Fire Island’s busiest shopping village, Ocean Beach.
The next day was glorious, perfect for a boat tour around the island. The wharf was abuzz with islanders, their guests, day tripping Manhattanites, the crew and a sprinkling of colorful partiers. The sailing was smooth. With all aboard soaking up the sun and sea, it was time to strike. Flashing my ringed toes and revealing my cargo of sparkling samples, the deck was soon as frenzied as a Black Friday sale. By the time it was time to disembark, almost half the passengers sported at least one toe ring – turning my bag of booty into a bag of cash!
At the same time, the media assumed that I knew everything about jewelry and credited me with knowing as much about the precious metals as the Hunt Brothers. Despite the fact that I had no such credentials, other than buying supplies at Myron Toback, on New York’s famed 47th Street, my limited knowledge was enough to satisfy the Managing Editor of Working Woman Magazine.
Myron, made a big impression on the impressionable young me. Wise, honest and fatherly, he was kind to the customers who regularly visited his store. On one particular visit, I worked up the chutzpah to ask if he would be interested in investing in my toe ring business. He took a minute to answer and looked me straight in the eyes. “No, he replied, “I’m not investing, but I respect you for asking. Because, you know, if you don’t ask, you don’t get.” His words serve me to this day. By now, I was convinced that I was onto something and decided to take my idea to the next level. Hence, card No. 1.
