The thieves did not steal the priceless crown that belonged Napoleon III’s wife, Empress Eugénie. Photograph: Stéphane de Sakutin/AFP/Getty Images
An open letter to whoever pulled off the Louvre heist.
Okay, so…
Two people roll up to the Louvre on a ladder truck, break in, steal the crown jewels of France, and dip in seven minutes flat.
Seven.
Minutes.
Now we’re not saying it was anyone from the gem trade... but if you’ve ever been to Tucson and watched a dealer unpack inventory before sunrise, you know that kind of efficiency only comes from years in the business.
Let’s be honest, whoever did this? They’ve calibrated melee faster than some of us check our emails.
They smashed two display cases, grabbed an emerald set, a sapphire suite, and a diadem worn by Empress Eugénie, then went down the ladder and off into Paris on scooters. Scooters. With crown jewels. I can’t even get my Uber to show up on time, and they had getaway drivers synchronized like a parcel shipment.
If it wasn’t you, I won't say anything. Blink twice.
Because the way half of us gasped at the gem photos like, “Oh, that color’s good,” tells me we’re way too calm for people witnessing grand larceny. Somewhere, a cutter is quietly sketching a CAD file for a “replica, but make it wearable.”
And look, we’re not condoning crime. But admit it! You respect the hustle. The precision. The planning. The ladder.
Seven minutes? That’s less time than it takes to argue price per carat in Tucson.
Anyway, if someone shows up to Vegas next year wearing a vintage emerald diadem “they found at an estate sale in France,” we’re asking questions.
Until then, tighten your showcases, check your alarms, and maybe … just maybe… keep an eye on anyone carrying a portable ladder.
