The Star Talks To: Vincent Grippa Of Jewels By Virtu

"All people should retire earlier than later," according to Vincent Grippa. "They get so used to working, they don't know what else to do." The owner of Jewels by Virtu in East Hampton, although unwilling to divulge his age, is taking his own advice.

So a discreet sign announcing "retirement sale" hangs in the window of his small shop on the Circle behind the Bank of New York. His regular customers have been stopping by, enjoying the 40 to 50-percent discounts and lightening the load of fine rings, necklaces, and bracelets in the display cases.

Bargain-hunters have until Sept. 28, the last day the shop will be open, to do the same.

Filling His Time

It sounds like Mr. Grippa will have little difficulty filling his time. "I may take piano lessons," he said. "I have a Steinway. It sits silently."

There may be voice lessons in store, too, he said, demonstrating a fine tenor, "but only for my own amusement. I don't have any close neighbors to amuse - or disturb."

Travel is also in the works. "I haven't been to Europe in years," he said. Trips to Italy and Spain are possibilities.

Then again, "If I get bored in retirement, I may open the store again in the spring, but on a smaller scale, as a summer shop."

Regular customers have already asked the jeweler to continue handling repairs and special purchases for them.

Second Generation

Mr. Grippa came naturally, if by a somewhat circuitous route, to his chosen field. The youngest of eight children, he was born in New York to Italian immigrants. His father was a jeweler with a shop on Second Avenue.

"He was a real craftsman, a wonderful, wonderful jeweler," Mr. Grippa said, although "he never made it big."

The father died when the son was 12, and an older brother opened a watch repair shop in the Chrysler building. At the age of 16, Mr. Grippa joined him, turning his weekly salary of $2.50 over to his mother.

"Oh, I hated it," he recalled. "I went to work early and came home late. I never saw the sun."

Sailing For Switzerland

The hours were not the only problem. "I'm not very mechanical," he confided. "I'm much more artistically inclined. I've always enjoyed drawing and sketching things."

In fact, a neighbor, a struggling commercial artist, used to ask Mr. Grippa for help on his projects. "Then he'd call me the next day at work and say, 'They accepted it!' and I'd do a slow burn."

Unhappy as a watchmaker, Mr. Grippa made up his mind to move to Switzerland, with a lead on a job with a major jewelry company, but his employment plans fell through after he had already booked passage.

Undeterred, he sent 20 letters to Swiss businesses asking for work, and received 17 polite rejections before he set sail.

Learning To Behave

He eventually found a job with a small import-export firm in Geneva, but the pay was not good, barely enough to cover the rent, which, he said, was inflated because he was American. "Everyone thought I had money, but it was tough for me."

That job fell apart too, when the company's owner was unable to finalize deals Mr. Grippa had arranged to bring American products such as Kleenex and Pepsi-Cola to Switzerland.

"It was a difficult but pleasant experience," he said. "I learned how to speak French and behave with people. I think everyone should travel."

Personal Question

Returning to New York, Mr. Grippa found work in a department store, though not without difficulty. "No matter what job I applied for, people told me I was either overqualified or underqualified."

Desperate, he walked into Klein's and asked to speak to the president. "I told them it was personal."

"The gentleman came out and said, 'I don't think I know you.'

" 'You don't,' I said, 'but I need a job.'"

Impressed with Mr. Grippa's resume and chutzpah, the president hired him as an assistant manager in the jewelry department.

It Wasn't Tiffany's

"I lasted all of two weeks," he said. "I was waiting on three customers one day. It was the store's policy to only wait on two at any one time. Another woman came up and asked me a question, and I said, 'I'm sorry, madam, you'll have to wait.'"

The manager then appeared. Instead of chastising Mr. Grippa for being curt, "he said to me, 'Why didn't you tell that lady to . . . . This is not Tiffany's. This is Klein's.'"

Mr. Grippa landed on his feet, working at other jewelry and department stores, before he joined David Webb, a jewelry designer. The job frequently took him to Paris, where he helped design and market jewelry.

His Own Shop

"People ask me, 'Do you design?' and technically, the answer is no. I never really sat down and designed jewelry, but I am presented with models and I suggest changes."

His suggestions to manufacturers have caused some headaches. "They tell me I'm more difficult to work with than Tiffany's. I tell them, Tiffany's sells a name. I have to sell a product."

By the late '60s, Mr. Grippa wanted to slow down. He moved to East Hampton, hoping to open his own shop, but "Everything I could find, I couldn't afford."

Eventually, he cut a deal with Peter Milholland, the owner of a gift shop on Main Street called the Black Whale. "I said, 'Give me a five-year lease, and I'll buy your merchandise.'"

Built Like The Rock

Once in business, Mr. Grippa renamed the shop Virtu, a play on his first name and a Latin word meaning a love or appreciation for things of beauty. Jewelry was a sideline. "I kept some things on hand," he said, "and one day a woman bought a diamond ring."

By 1977, he was looking to expand. Unable to find a suitable rental, he decided to cross the street and build his own store.

"It's built like the Rock of Gibraltar," he said proudly. The building has a slab foundation and thick concrete walls, required by insurers.

Robbery

Although he continued in the giftware business for a time, selling fine china and crystal as well as jewelry, Mr. Grippa eventually scaled back.

Despite being "vulnerable" in a small jewelry shop, he was robbed just once. It happened in 1993.

"Two rather seedy females came in," he said. "They told me they had $2,000 to spend on a bracelet." He showed them a slightly higher-priced piece, and the pair said they would return.

"They came back the next day and said, 'We have more money to spend,'" and asked to see a $7,500 bracelet. They also looked again at the piece from the day before.

"They took both and walked toward the door, as customers often do to get a better look," the jeweler recalled. "The next thing I knew, they were running out the door."

Business The Old Way

Mr. Grippa, who said he was not himself at the time because a friend had recently died, stood watching "for what must have been 30 seconds. I fully expected them to come back." By the time he hit the burglar alarm and ran after them, the girls and the jewels were gone.

So, too, is the old way of doing business, he said. The rule-of-thumb markup in the jewelry business, according to Mr. Grippa, used to be to double the price of an item and add an additional 10 to 20 percent. "You can sit on your inventory for a year, or maybe two to five years."

A Wedding Present

Now, he said, stores often inflate the markup and offer phony discounts. "Sometimes I go to the mall and I see young couples looking at engagement rings. They're spending $3,000 to $4,000 for a ring. They could have gotten a better one from me for $1,000."

Over the years, there have been stories that bear retelling, but Mr. Grippa is not the man to tell them. "Good jewelers," he believes, "are like priests. They never divulge their secrets."

"Suppose you say, 'Mrs. Jones, how do you like that pearl necklace your husband bought?' But maybe Mrs. Jones never got that necklace. . . ."

Still, he can't resist one tale. A well-heeled woman from a distinguished family came in once, looking for a wedding gift for a society couple. She settled on two planters decorated with frogs - at $6 apiece, the cheapest item in the store.

The plot thickened when the bride - a countess, according to Mr. Grippa - came in to exchange them. The jeweler, embarrassed for his customer, did not know whether to give the bride an inflated credit in hopes of being reimbursed by the gift-giver, or tell her the truth.

He settled on the truth. "You mean she only spent $12?" blurted Countess So-and-So. Mr. Grippa did not recall if she stuck around for a refund.