“OH! Look at that purse! I love it!” she exclaimed. She removed it from the mannequin’s shoulder to examine its details up close and personal. The bag was big and slouchy, but the silky satin pewter fabric lined with zebra print made it feel luxuriously indulgent. There were no screaming logo prints or metal-plated designer name tags, just a beautifully crafted tote. While she imagined the purse paired with her favorite suits, I stole a glance at the price tag and nearly passed out.
“Okay, so give me the bad news,” she said when she saw the look on my face.
“Two hundred and ten dollars,” I told her.
“WHAT?!?!” She snatched that purse off her arm like it was eating a hole through her flesh.
Before I go any further, I should clarify something for all you fashionistas who have your noses turned up in disdain at this blatant display of budgetary discretion. Like all women, we love a thing of beauty and we are willing to spend appropriately for well-made, beautiful clothes and accessories. However, we are not among the fiscally fortunate who can afford to drop $300.00 on a Ferragamo leather fringe key chain.
Doused with a cold glass of retail reality, my mom returned the bag to the mannequin and harrumphed, “This little simple thing? Child, we could so make this.” Famous last words.
Over the next few months, my mom regularly threatened to make her own version of the bag, but never got any further than that. With her birthday fast approaching, and my bank balance fast dwindling, I decided that I would do it for her as a gift. The only problem was that I had never made any kind of handbag before, and there was no pattern or photograph for me to work from.
What I needed was a guinea pig, so I chose my good friend and coworker Dianna. She knitted me a beautiful red bag for my birthday, and I figured it was only fitting that I return the favor. This would give me a chance to practice the bag on her before attempting one for my mom. After all, turnabout was fair play.
After the successful trial run on my colleague, I was ready to go after the real deal. I selected fabrics in my mom’s favorite colors and went to work. I was so busy congratulating myself on a job well done that I just couldn’t hold my peace and I spoiled my own surprised when I told my mom what I’d done.
When she saw the finished product, she was as pleased with the result as I was. High on my own 2-for-2 record, I got the notion that I could make and sell my own purse designs. But there was no way I was going to do this on my own. I knew I needed the talent, expertise and creative eye of one far wiser than myself. I made a phone call to the most qualified person I knew.
“Okay, now don’t laugh,” I began, completely aware that prefacing anything with that phrase was an open invitation for much raucous laughter. “I have an idea for a little side business for us.”
“Really? What is it,” my mom asked.
“We can make and sell handbags.”
“I like it! Can we start now? What are we going to call it?”
“How about LaurAnn?”
And my mom said, “I am so down!”
And thus, LaurAnn was born.
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