“I don’t want to be a wedding planner,” Mr. Lane said. “I don’t want to worry about if the roast beef is overcooked. I don’t. I want to see how you present that roast beef, and how you put it on the plate, and how you do the tablecloth, and the little notes that you write. Instead of just a little note when you come in where you’re sitting — Neil Lane, Table 16 — I want you to do a note under my placing saying, ‘Dear Neil, There are 69 people here. They’re only here because we love them and cherish them. We want them to be here on our special day. You’re one of them.’”

Getting into the bridal industry was largely accidental. Mr. Lane grew up in Marine Park, Brooklyn, and was long intent on becoming a painter. As a teenager, he bought up shiny souvenirs from shops in Chinatown and resold them at flea markets around the city, hoping to turn a profit that would pay for a ticket to Paris. The plan was to see the “Mona Lisa” and pass through Hector Guimard’s Art Nouveau Metro entryways. And he did. But what ended up impressing upon him was a tiny vintage jewelry shop on a side street off the Place Vendôme.

“I looked in, and my nose was to the glass,” he said. The objet d’art that caught his eye was an enamel brooch depicting a “demon” with a large diamond in its mouth and a pearl in its belly. The cost, he said, was $4,000. He had about $6,000 total. After circling the block several times, attempting to negotiate the cost and smoking many cigarettes, he paid the tag price. So began his collection.

Each new addition presented a learning opportunity. “If I bought a little ring with all this Edwardian detail in the platinum, I’d study it for hours with my little 10-power loupe up in my little garret,” he said. “I was on the 10th floor. I had to schlep up there.”