Page 189 of Spicy Ever After
It’s also terrifying.
But not so terrifying that I haven’t downloaded the business plan template my Principles of Management professor shared with us way back when.
“Of course it is. I think every city needs a place like this. Don’t you?”
I perk up. “Yeah. I do.”
A place where sewists can learn and get help with tricky projects. Vivian offers classes, but there’s also just a vibe in the workshop that encourages collaboration.
Last week, I helped a high school girl put in her first zipper. She was so excited, it left me in a good mood all day.
Vivian has two other sewists on staff for bespoke projects. Customers come in with a pattern, an inspiration piece, or nothing at all—just a need for a party dress or a wedding dress—and the sewists work with them to create something one-of-a-kind.
And, just like what happened with my blouson dress, people can sell what they make right here in the shop. Viv Couture keeps twenty percent, but as far as I’m concerned, that’s more than fair. I’ll still walk out of here today with $80—about $45 of that as profit when you take out the cost of materials.
True, I spent about four hours making that dress, but that still comes out to more than minimum wage. And the money is mine. I earned it.
I’ve never felt this kind of proud.
And I can’t help but wonder: What would it feel like to own a place like this?
My heart is a frightened bird. “Um… What advice would you have for someone who… might want to startup her own shop?”
Vivian smiles, but it’s full of meaning. And even I can read that it’s excited, but cautionary.
Like: Oh, get ready, girl.
I have no idea if I’m ready.
I just know I want to be ready.
“I’m going to give you my advice, but it’s not advice I followed.” Her brow arches. “Mind you, I have no regrets, but if I had been a young woman just starting out, things would’ve been different. I wouldn’t have had the capital I had to risk on this place, and I wouldn’t have been in such a hurry.”
I’m not so sure about that. I feel like this should be something I started yesterday.
And I know I’ve said this out loud when Vivian chuckles. “Hattie, you have plenty of time.”
I rock in my seat, inadvertently scooting my rolly chair. I grab the edge of the worktable to keep me in place.
“But what if somebody back home is already renting space? Getting ready to open Sandra’s Sewing Shop before I can open Hattie’s Attic?”
“Hattie’s Attic? Love the name!”
I can already picture the scripty sign: Hattie’s Attic and under that in a sans serif font, Fabrics, Craft Space, & Bespoke Fashions
Grinning, Vivian shakes her head. “Sandra’s Sewing Shop doesn’t stand a chance,” she teases. “But seriously, you have time to get it right.”
Her gaze sharpens on me. “How much longer until you finish your business degree?”
“Ugh!” I roll my eyes. “I was hoping you’d tell me to drop out of school and throw all my energy into opening shop.”
This makes her laugh again. “Sorry, Hattie. I’m with your parents on this one.”
Yes, hanging out here the last few weeks has given Vivian plenty of opportunity to hear my backstory while I cut out patterns and reinforced seams.
I sigh. “I could finish in another year,” I grumble. “It’s just… so boring.”
She tilts her head. “Would it be so boring if you made your shop the focus of all of your schoolwork?”
