Dreaming of a new display

Recently I was accepted to the Rustbelt Market show in Ferndale, MI. At first I was so excited I got up and jumped around. I have lots of new jewelry and I'm excited about interacting with people there.

Then I remembered my display woes.

You see, many of my display pieces have been with me for a long time. My neckforms are all 15-20 years old, and many of my props are at least a decade old, if not two. You won't believe this, but I am still using the first set of light bulbs I ever purchased...fifteen years later. I can hardly believe it myself.

Anyway, I haven't been doing a lot of jewelry shows in the past few years, so I've been putting off redesigning my display. There's always something a little shinier to work on, you know?

But I can't put it off any longer. I really want my display to look nice.

Let's get in our time machine and head into the past for a glimpse at my very first display:

It was a hodge-podge mix of everything I had at that time; black material, plastic earring racks, the desk lamp from my desk.

After using it for a few times, I learned some interesting things. The plastic earring rack was awful. The whole rack shook whenever anyone tried to pick up a pair of earrings, and no one could get the earring cards back on except for me.

Even stranger, the black tablecloths seemed to make people head the other way. They'd barely glance in my direction. Except for...kids. Kids could not get enough of it. They would see my booth, and tear themselves away from their parents to come running over, whereupon they would bump into the table and make everything shake. They would grab stuff, and then their parents would come over and hiss, "NO! This is too EXPENSIVE!"

I decided to switch to white tablecloths, and it was like night and day. No more comments about the jewelry being too expensive, and kids seemed positively bored by my tables. My neckforms are still black velvet, though, and they're a bit worn out, and I've gone ahead and ordered all sorts of new neck displays from Rio Grande. Metal displays, wood displays, and faux suede displays, oh my! I can't wait to see them.

I'll definitely be posting pictures of the new display as I put it together!

Expanding horizons

If business were predictable, we'd all be billionaires.

When I first started my own business, I began at small local craft shows. The very first show I did was one from the most well-known local promoter.

I put together as much merchandise as I could. I had expensive tags made so that I could label the kinds of beads that went into each necklace. I borrowed earring racks from a friend. I pulled out some black fabric that had once been part of a store display.

I bought T-bars and forms from Rio Grande. I also bought velvet tray inserts and I found a Diana statue in Robert Ham's catalog that actually ended up traveling with me to many, many shows until she became stained from being packed damp against black cloth.

I became nervous about not having enough inventory, and I worked feverishly, staying up every night after my day job (where I worked 10 am to 9 pm) to make more jewelry.

This was my first proud attempt at a display:



I was thrilled with it. I felt like I had finally worked hard at something and been rewarded, in a way.

This is more or less what my display looked like at my first show. I was so certain that I'd have lots of customers that I asked my sister to help me.

We set up, and I was a basket case, trying to fit everything onto the table and trying to make everything look "perfect." I had even made a sign explaining the name to put on checks. A friend who was in the business thought that I would sell nearly all of it at the show.

By the end of the day, I was nearly in tears. A few people had bought my most economical items--$5 wire-wrapped Lake Michigan stones on cords--but that was it. Even worse, everyone who bought something made a face or was annoyed when I charged sales tax.

I barely took in $100 at the show.

The pattern repeated at every show I did. I would get one customer who would like what I did, and buy $30; the rest would buy earrings, and I would barely eke out $150.

Completely by accident, I signed up for an outdoor art fair. When I realized what I had done, I was horrified. I called and found out that a tent rental would cost $80. I had to make new displays, and it ended up costing another $80. By the time I put together the fee and the expenses, I realized that the $150 I had been making at each show wouldn't even begin to cover this.

I set up anyway. I was miserable. It was raining. I expected the very worst, and just sat there like a lump when the show opened.

The first customer spent $150 without even batting an eyelash.

I don't even need to explain how excited I was. By the end of the show, I had made $1200.

I changed my entire show strategy and began to do outdoor art fairs, which were ten times better for my jewelry.

Of course, my life has changed, and my business has changed. I've been doing bead shows with my closeout beads, hoping that I would be able to make a new niche for myself, but I'm just not reaching the right market.

So I signed up for a small community garage sale for the weekend. I thought it would be a great market--as long as I get a bead addict or two, someone who can recognize how incredible my prices are, I'd be able to go home satisfied--but it was one of the worst shows I've ever done. The day dragged by, and I'm going to cut my losses by not going to day #2. (Sometimes it's better to do something that will make you money instead of cost you money. I'm going to spend the day working on eBay stuff.)

But I won't stop trying to expand my market. There has to be a place for closeout beads somewhere!