As I mentioned last week, my endeavors to pioneer the building of a single gal registry have been successful, rewarding and just plain fun. By compiling a gift registry as a single woman, I have managed to build a seed collection of stylish tableware and kitchen accessories.

Waterford Kilbarry Platinum

For most items, registry shopping was easy and fun. I know what I like when I see it. However, one registry item has been a thorn in my side for nearly a year. It has taken many months and much deliberation, but I have finally settled on a china pattern.

Mikasa Couture Platinum

It's a good thing I'm registering as a single woman and not as a couple—it was hard enough finding a pattern to satisfy me, I can only imagine the trepidation in considering the demands of two people. Why so picky? you ask. Considering that most china patterns run $150 for a place setting, or about $35 per plate, and over $100 for serving pieces and close to $250 for teapots and coffeepots, it's a major investment. You'd better love whatever you pick out; in my estimation, that means my pattern had better meet all of my finicky demands. The first of my demands was to have a pattern that was both modern and decorative. The problem with a lot of "modern" style patterns is that they're too plain. I considered Mikasa's Couture Platinum and Waterford's Kilbarry Platinum, but they are so plain that I found they lacked a certain formal elegance I would expect from fine china. If china isn't at least a little elaborate then it provides minimal aesthetic benefit above casual dinnerware. In other words, if I'm going to invest in a china set, I don't want to risk it being mistaken for anything less.

Villeroy & Boch New Wave Platinum

My second demand is for the full china set to include a tea service. After all, if we're talking about china, what is more quintessential than the tea service? However, it would seem that modern tastes leave china tea sipping less in demand. Many modern sets do not include a tea service, including the delightfully elegant and hip Villeroy & Boch New Wave Platinum. Saundra tells me it's too trendy and will thus become dated very quickly, but I would be willing to overlook the fact that it would make me "soooo early 21st century" if a tea service were part of its line.

A non-footed tea cup

Alas, however, it does not even include a cream and sugar. Even worse, some modern sets (ahem, another downside to the Couture Platinum) have moved from offering the classic 5-piece place setting (i.e. dinner plate, salad plate, butter plate, teacup and saucer) to a 4-piece place setting with a coffee mug instead of the teacup/saucer combo. Furthermore, an increasing number of the modern-style china sets that do offer the traditional 5-piece place setting have a cylindrical teacup instead of a footed teacup. For my tastes, this nouveau teacup looks too much like a coffee mug cut to half size. My next demand—call it a demand within a demand—is for my china set to have a footed teacup, or at least a tapered bottom like the New Wave.

Bernardaud Athena Platinum Tempting, but not bone china

My final demand is for the set to be bone china, rather than porcelain. You may now be thinking that I'm off my rocker—what the hell could possibly be wrong with a porcelain china set? I did my research, including a live trip to the Kaufmann's china department in its final days to pick up and feel the display plates. Bone china, because of chemical processes that are beyond my comprehension, is stronger than porcelain, and thus can be made thinner. Compared side-by-side, bone china is appreciably thinner than porcelain china, a difference that was noted even by my ex-boyfriend—who, you might have guessed, was markedly less fascinated by my quest to pick out a china pattern. Bone china boasts greater aesthetic delicacy and, in my book, the thickness of porcelain does not afford enough distinction over casual stoneware. My remaining basic requirement for a china pattern is, thus, for it to be bone china.

Waterford Araglin Platinum

With these finicky demands in mind, it was on to the task of choosing an actual pattern. Rather than boring you with the picayune details of what sets I considered and rejected and why, I'll take you straight to my eleventh hour decision. I resolved, ultimately, to pick out a china pattern from Waterford. Not only is Waterford now the parent company of legendary English china maker Wedgwood, but Waterford is big in my family. Saundra's stock is that of middle-class Irish-Americans, and collecting Waterford is a family tradition started by her mother. Having narrowed the field with my finicky demands and my adherence to family tradition, it came down to three: Kilbarry Platinum, Araglin Platinum, and Ballet Ribbon.

Waterford Ballet Ribbon

The Kilbarry, despite its neato square accent plate and spiffy tea service, ultimately got rejected on its plainness. That left Araglin and Ballet Ribbon to face off. Araglin moved ahead by virtue of the fact that its tea service comes from the same mould as the Kilbarry. The Ballet Ribbon inspired hesitance because it just sounds so girly. However, the Araglin ultimately proved too boring for my tastes. The Ballet Ribbon, despite the name, is quite understated and elegant, with enough elaborate flourish and enough modern sensibility to suit my demands. As an added bonus, the Ballet Ribbon offers a choice of four colors—blue, green, pink and lavender—for its accent salad plate, allowing me to add décor-complementing interest to my place settings.

Vera Wang Byzantium

The only drawback, besides the girly name, is that I'm not sure the Ballet Ribbon will work with my sterling pattern. In contrast to china patterns, sterling patterns are far less numerous and far more expensive. As a result, there is exactly one sterling pattern that has captured my heart, and for the exorbitant price of silver—made $200 a place setting worse by the fact that it's Vera Wang—I will simply stomach nothing else. It's Vera Wang Byzantium—a pattern that combines modern lines with the enchantment of medieval Constantinople. While it is unlikely that I'll even see a salad fork in the next five years, unless I get a real job or wealthier friends, I cannot budge from the Byzantium. Will Ballet Ribbon get along with Byzantium? Or will they clash with an absurdity unequalled except by the wearing of socks with sandals? Will they be cursed to spend an eternity together in disharmony on my dinner table? Considering my current financial status quo, I expect that the suspense will continue...