Here’s the punchline: even if you had the cash and the connections, you probably wouldn’t be allowed to buy a Poudretteite. The few known specimens are locked in museums or private collections of billionaires who use them as paperweights (I’m joking, but barely). The last one sold at auction? It went for $1.8 million per carat—and it was smaller than a Cheerio.
So, the next time you see someone flaunting a giant diamond, just smirk. You know the secret: the real flex isn’t diamond tears—it’s a dusty purple pebble that’s harder to find than a quiet child. And let’s be honest, wouldn’t you rather have a rock named after a Canadian quarry that sounds like a sneeze? Good. Me too.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to break my piggy bank and stare longingly at a photo of a Poudretteite. One day, my precious. One day.
