This week I was out for dinner with a friend, meeting to discuss her wedding veil that I am designing. Over sushi and sake, we discussed a lot about life, and it was good. I told her about how I came up with the idea to make hair accessories in the first place, and although I've always known it to be true, it was nice to be able to say it, mull it over, be reminded of my inspiration, be inspired all over again... Because the inspiration is my mother, and because it's almost Mother's Day, it seems like as good a time as any to share that inspiration with her, and with all of you.
When I was a little girl, there was a time when my family was poor. I don't know how long that lasted, or how serious it was; I was very young and the details escaped me. Even now, many details escape me, so it's no wonder that I as a child would not know everything. I remember that there was a holiday coming up, it might have been Christmas, or it might have been Easter. Everyone in the house except my mother was in bed, and I was having trouble sleeping. I remember sneaking, bleary-eyed, downstairs to find her, and I came upon her working intently over a small shirt. I knew it was for me. It had to be. She had a glue gun, and she had her huge box of pretty scraps and supplies. This event is far enough in the past that the specifics have gone blurry for me. Did she see me? Did we speak? I don't remember. I believe, though, that I was a silent observer, that she never saw me standing there, and that I went upstairs again with a combination of smiles and tears. I knew what she was doing. Even at such a young age, I knew that she was making pretty things for my sister and me to make up for what we couldn't afford to buy. She made us hair clips and bows and pretty shirts embellished with fabric hearts, and glitter, and lace. They were beautiful--far more beautiful than if they cost any amount of money--because they were made with love.
When I started thinking about using the creativity that was passed down to me in order to earn a little extra money, I remember browsing Etsy to see what prices people charged for their creations. I was disappointed in the high prices because I remember that my mother had made me lovely things on a budget. I think that people should be able to get beautiful, creative, and unique treasures for a decent price; they shouldn't be paying me to be the over-priced artist but to be the gift-giver, the behind-the-scenes angel like my mother. I want my customers to be happy, to get what they really want, to have beautiful things to treasure forever, but not to have to spend all of their money to get them. My whole mission was passed down to me through something I observed in my own mother.
Happy Mothers' Day, Moma!
When I was a little girl, there was a time when my family was poor. I don't know how long that lasted, or how serious it was; I was very young and the details escaped me. Even now, many details escape me, so it's no wonder that I as a child would not know everything. I remember that there was a holiday coming up, it might have been Christmas, or it might have been Easter. Everyone in the house except my mother was in bed, and I was having trouble sleeping. I remember sneaking, bleary-eyed, downstairs to find her, and I came upon her working intently over a small shirt. I knew it was for me. It had to be. She had a glue gun, and she had her huge box of pretty scraps and supplies. This event is far enough in the past that the specifics have gone blurry for me. Did she see me? Did we speak? I don't remember. I believe, though, that I was a silent observer, that she never saw me standing there, and that I went upstairs again with a combination of smiles and tears. I knew what she was doing. Even at such a young age, I knew that she was making pretty things for my sister and me to make up for what we couldn't afford to buy. She made us hair clips and bows and pretty shirts embellished with fabric hearts, and glitter, and lace. They were beautiful--far more beautiful than if they cost any amount of money--because they were made with love.
When I started thinking about using the creativity that was passed down to me in order to earn a little extra money, I remember browsing Etsy to see what prices people charged for their creations. I was disappointed in the high prices because I remember that my mother had made me lovely things on a budget. I think that people should be able to get beautiful, creative, and unique treasures for a decent price; they shouldn't be paying me to be the over-priced artist but to be the gift-giver, the behind-the-scenes angel like my mother. I want my customers to be happy, to get what they really want, to have beautiful things to treasure forever, but not to have to spend all of their money to get them. My whole mission was passed down to me through something I observed in my own mother.
Happy Mothers' Day, Moma!
