Showing posts with label rags to riches. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rags to riches. Show all posts

Friday, January 16, 2009

Rags to riches?

 

From the Midland Free Press, By CHRISTINA BERNARDO

In an effort to keep complex items such as textiles from landfills and to extend the life of cloth beyond its original usefulness, Midland resident Louise Sparrow makes one-of-a-kind clothing with used apparel and scrap fabrics.

She makes clothing such as t-shirts, pants, skirts and dresses for children under her label Repurposed.

"I make all kinds of textiles, from chair covers to apparel to home decor," she said. "(Making textiles) uses a lot energy, water and various resources to create, so I'm trying to take that energy that's already been spent, and extend the life of the textile that's been produced.

"I'm keeping the clothes out of the landfill and I'm extending the original investment of energy, and resources, and turning it into something else," she said. "For me it mimics life itself. Nothing alive ever really dies. It just goes into the ground, turns into energy and comes back as something else."

Harvesting fabric is her way of being environmentally-concious.

Before she got into making children's clothing, she was making trapper hats and reusable bags.

"I've always wanted to do more with textiles because there's so much out there," she said. "I started with this because it's small enough that I can do it in a short period of time. I can charge $15 for the boys' t-shirt and $18 for the little girls' dress -- that's not inexpensive. On the other hand, you're also getting a one-of-a-kind, and then I bring my design skills to it."

Sparrow's ultimate talent is what she brings to her Repurposed pieces.

"The design process is very organic. I don't decide that I'm going to make a shirt an orange shirt," she said. "I look at what I've got. I let the fabric inspire the design."

The 50-year-old gets her clothes from local thrift shops.

She will make other clothing sizes upon request.

Sparrow has been sewing most of her life and loves "to turn something into something else."

Sparrow's future for Repurposed is to continue to harvest fabric, but also grow it, so she can create sewing circles and perhaps sell on the Internet.

For more information on Repurposed, contact Sparrow at 527-4023.



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Friday, January 9, 2009

"I don't think like that anymore."

Alex Wilson is smiling again after winning excellence award

Alex Wilson is smiling again after winning excellence award

by Iain Lundy, from the Evening Times Online

TWO years ago Alex Wilson had it made. He had a successful job, owned houses in England and France and was a partner in a luxury apartment business in Brazil.

The engineer drove plush cars, swam in his private pool, played tennis on his own court and had plans to build a golf course. But in January 2007 his world collapsed.

Cancer - which he had suffered 10 years previously - returned and he lost his job, his business partners deserted him and his marriage broke down.

Alex, 54, from Motherwell, was forced to return to Lanarkshire penniless and with no home to go to.

He contemplated suicide but, after almost two years in the doldrums, he is again on the straight and narrow and says his is a classic tale of "riches to rags to riches".

He has managed to turn his life back around thanks to the support he received in his home town, particularly a scheme run by Motherwell College, which has helped him relaunch a new career.

After completing his engineering apprenticeship in the old Lanarkshire steelworks, Alex went to work in England for British Aerospace and began to enjoy the good life.

He said: "I had worked hard and along with some friends I bought some holiday apartments in Brazil. They were full all year round and the income was brilliant."

But things started to go wrong when his stomach cancer came back and he was treated in France.

"My partners obviously thought I was not going to last. They got together and effectively wrote me out of the business. I had cashed in 85% of my pension to put it into the business, so all that was gone.

Alex then stopped working and his third marriage ended in divorce.

He said: "I had a couple of T-shirts, two pairs of jeans and a jacket to my name. There was only one thing I could do and that was go back to my home land.

"North Lanarkshire Council was brilliant. I arrived in the morning and by mid-afternoon it had set me up with a flat in Shotts and given me some money.

"I am not a Catholic but the local priest, Father Lamb, came round that night with three bags of shopping."

Through the JobCentre, Alex was put in touch with the "Support Employment" football project run by Motherwell College, Motherwell FC and Careers Scotland.

He has now been presented with Careers Scotland's Over-20 Excellence Award at a ceremony at Glasgow Science Centre.

He added: "A year ago I just wanted to die. I don't think like that any more. "

This summer Alex hopes to graduate from the college in Swedish massage and reflexology - and use his new skills to work again.



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Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Hard Times, a Helping Hand

By TED GUP, Canton, Ohio 

Tony Cenicola/The New York Times

IN the weeks just before Christmas of 1933 — 75 years ago — a mysterious offer appeared in The Repository, the daily newspaper here. It was addressed to all who were suffering in that other winter of discontent known as the Great Depression. The bleakest of holiday seasons was upon them, and the offer promised modest relief to those willing to write in and speak of their struggles. In return, the donor, a “Mr. B. Virdot,” pledged to provide a check to the neediest to tide them over the holidays.

Not surprisingly, hundreds of letters for Mr. B. Virdot poured into general delivery in Canton — even though there was no person of that name in the city of 105,000. A week later, checks, most for as little as $5, started to arrive at homes around Canton. They were signed by “B. Virdot.”

The gift made The Repository’s front page on Dec. 18, 1933. The headline read: “Man Who Felt Depression’s Sting to Help 75 Unfortunate Families: Anonymous Giver, Known Only as ‘B. Virdot,’ Posts $750 to Spread Christmas Cheer.” The story said the faceless donor was “a Canton man who was toppled from a large fortune to practically nothing” but who had returned to prosperity and now wanted to give a Christmas present to “75 deserving fellow townsmen.” The gifts were to go to men and women who might otherwise “hesitate to knock at charity’s door for aid.”

Whether the paper spoke to Mr. B. Virdot directly or through an intermediary or whether it received something in writing from him is not known.

Down through the decades, the identity of the benefactor remained a mystery. Three prosperous generations later, the whole affair was consigned to a footnote in Canton’s history. But to me, the story had always served as an example of how selfless Americans reach out to one another in hard times. I can’t even remember the first time I heard about Mr. B. Virdot, but I knew the tale well.

Then, this past summer, my mother handed me a battered old black suitcase that had been gathering dust in her attic. I flipped open the twin latches and found a mass of letters, all dated December 1933. There were also 150 canceled checks signed by “B. Virdot,” and a tiny black bank book with $760 in deposits.

My mother, Virginia, had always known the secret: the donor was her father, Samuel J. Stone. The fictitious moniker was a blend of his daughters’ names — Barbara, Virginia and Dorothy. But Mother had never told me, and when she handed me the suitcase she had no idea what was in it — “some old papers,” she said. The suitcase had passed into her possession shortly after the death of my grandmother Minna in 2005.

I took the suitcase with me to our log cabin in the woods of Maine, and there, one night, began to read letter after letter. They had come from all over Canton, from out-of-work upholsterers, painters, bricklayers, day laborers, insurance salesmen and, yes, former executives — some of whom, I later learned, my grandfather had known personally.

One, written Dec. 19, 1933, begins, “I hate to write this letter ... it seems too much like begging. Anyway, here goes. I will be honest, my husband doesn’t know I’m writing this letter... . He is working but not making enough to hardly feed his family. We are going to do everything in our power to hold on to our house.” Three years behind in taxes and out of credit at the grocery store, the writer closed with, “Even if you don’t think we’re worthy of help, I hope you receive a great blessing for your kindness.”

Another letter came from a 38-year-old steel worker, out of a job and stricken with tuberculosis, who wrote of his inability to pay the hospital bills for his son, whose skull had been fractured after he was struck by a car.

One man wrote: “For one like me who for a lifetime has earned a fine living, charity by force of distressed circumstances is an abomination and a headache. However, your offer carries with it a spirit so far removed from those who offer help for their own glorification, you remove so much of the sting and pain of forced charity that I venture to tell you my story.”

The writer, once a prominent businessman, was now 65 and destitute, his life insurance policy cashed in and gone, his furniture “mortgaged,” his clothes threadbare, his hope of paying the electric and gas bills pinned to the intervention of his children.

From left to right, Virgina Stone, the author's mother, Minna Stone, the author's grandmother, Barbara Stone, Dorothy Stone and Sam Stone, the author's grandfather.

Samuel J. Stone.

  

Names and addresses have been removed from the letters above.

A mother of four wrote, “My husband hasn’t had steady work in four years ... . The people who are lucky enough to have no worry where the next meal is coming from don’t realize how it is to be like we are and a lot of others... . I only wish I could do what you are doing.”

Another letter was from the wife of an out-of-work bricklayer. “Mr. Virdot, we are in desperate circumstances,” she wrote. They had taken in her husband’s mother and father and a 10-year-old boy. Now the landlord had given them three days to pay up. “It is awful,” she wrote. “No one knows, only those who go through it. It does seem so much like begging. ”

Children, too, wrote in. The youngest was 12-year-old Mary Uebing. “There are six in our family,” she wrote, “and my father is dead ... my baby sister is sick. Last Christmas our dinner was slim and this Christmas it will be slimmer... . Any way you could help us would be appreciated in this fatherless and worrisome home.”

The wife of an out-of-work insurance salesman added a postscript to her letter, one not intended for her husband’s eyes: She had just pawned her engagement ring for $5.

Also in the suitcase were thank-you letters from people who had received Mr. Virdot’s checks. A father wrote: “It was put to good use paying for two pairs of shoes for my girls and other little necessities. I hope some day I have the pleasure of knowing to whom we are indebted for this very generous gift.”

That was from George W. Monnot, who had once owned a successful Ford dealership but whose reluctance to lay off his salesmen hastened his own financial collapse, his granddaughter told me.

Of course, the checks could not reverse the fortunes of an entire family, much less a community. A few months after one man, Roy Teis, wrote to B. Virdot, his family splintered apart. His eight children, including a 4-year-old daughter, were scattered among nearly as many foster homes, and there they remained for years to come.

So why had my grandfather done this? Because he had known what it was to be down and out. In 1902, when he was 15, he and his family had fled Romania, where they had been persecuted and stripped of the right to work because they were Jews. They settled into an immigrant ghetto in Pittsburgh. His father forced him to roll cigars with his six other siblings in the attic, hiding his shoes so he could not go to school.

My grandfather later worked on a barge and in a coal mine, swabbed out dirty soda bottles until the acid ate at his fingers and was even duped into being a strike breaker, an episode that left him bloodied by nightsticks. He had been robbed at night and swindled in daylight. Midlife, he had been driven to the brink of bankruptcy, almost losing his clothing store and his home.

By the time the Depression hit, he had worked his way out of poverty, owning a small chain of clothing stores and living in comfort. But his good fortune carried with it a weight when so many around him had so little.

His yuletide gift was not to be his only such gesture. In the same black suitcase were receipts hinting at other anonymous acts of kindness. The year before the United States entered World War II, for instance, he sent hundreds of wool overcoats to British soldiers. In the pocket of each was a handwritten note, unsigned, urging them not to give in to despair and expressing America’s support.

Like many in his generation, my grandfather believed in hard work, and disdained handouts. In 1981, at age 93, he died driving himself to the office, crashing while trying to beat a rising drawbridge. But he could never ignore the brutal reality of times when work was simply not to be had and self-reliance reached its limits. He sought no credit for acts of conscience. He saw them as the debt we owe one another and ourselves.

For many Americans, this Christmas will be grim. Here, in Ohio, food banks and shelters are trying to cope with the fallout from plant closings, layoffs, foreclosures and bankruptcies. The family across the street lost their home. From our breakfast table, we look out on their house, dark and vacant. Multibillion-dollar bailouts to banks and Wall Street have yet to bring relief to those humbled by need and overwhelmed by debt. Already, the B. Virdot in me — in each of us — can hear the words of our neighbors. 

Ted Gup, a professor of journalism at Case Western Reserve University, is the author of “Nation of Secrets.”



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After many busts, pals deal up winner

AARON HARRIS/TORONTO STAR

Toronto waiter Kosta Trichas shows off the Wheel-R-Dealer, a hand-held device that he and co-creator John Siambouris are hoping will come up aces in gaming circles worldwide, as a way to remove the fuss and tomfoolery from card dealing.Quest for 'big idea' leads to card-dealing gizmo that's turning heads in gaming circles

 

Sir Isaac Newton was allegedly sitting under an apple tree when he discovered gravity. And the Greek philosopher Archimedes was in the bathtub when the proverbial light bulb flashed over his head.

For Kosta Trichas, 40, and John Siambouris, 54, that eureka! moment happened while they were hunched over table 4 at their diner.

That's when they discovered a way to possibly revolutionize card playing, by devising a fraud-proof, hassle-free, automatic card dealer.

As on other nights after work, the two waiters leaned their elbows on a small two-seater near the entrance to Sunset Grill, a Queen St. E. breakfast institution.

This was in November four years ago. They were tired and sweaty, cigarette smoke curling through their matted hair, when Siambouris got up and started pacing.

"I got it," he said quietly after a moment. "I got it."

Now, it's no theory of relativity, but for the two would-be-entrepreneurs, his idea was tantamount to dreaming up Google.

"I stood up and yelled 'Yeah! yeah!' " Trichas said. "It was late, we were tired and this idea comes."

Today, their Wheel-R-Dealer is on its way to becoming the apple of every card player's eye, the partners say. It's a device only slightly larger than a deck of cards that eliminates any dealing errors or hand-eye trickery, they say. With a quick flick of a thumb, it deals out one card every time – no fuss, no muss or manual dexterity required.

A dealer's hands never touch the cards and once all 52 are securely inside the device, no one can manipulate the order, the partners say.

It's ideal for recreational poker players or bridge aficionados, or anyone else who finds dealing cards to be a chore or intimidating, the partners enthuse.

After only a month on the market, they say 20,000 units have been sold to Native Casinos, an association of aboriginal operated casinos in the U.S.

And Dave Snider, marketing director at Prairie Knights Casino and Resort in North Dakota, said he just received delivery of 1,000 units emblazoned with the company logo. They'll be given to VIP customers as a New Year's Eve gift.

"They're really cool," Snider says, noting the casino learned of the device at a Nevada gaming conference last month and had to have them.

"Guests will appreciate having something to deal cards ... The concept is really good."

While casinos typically use a six-deck shoe at blackjack tables, largely to inhibit card counting, the Wheel-R-Dealer founders hope their one-deck device can also find a place in gaming meccas.

One U.S. casino has expressed interest, and Las Vegas operators are also looking at the device, their business partner Paul Mailing adds.

That kind of acceptance would make Trichas and Siambouris' years of struggle all worth it.

"It's an almost rags to riches story," Trichas says over coffee at Sunset Grill, where other customers have taken their now famous table.

"Right now, it's more like 'rags to riches, question mark!' "

Trichas met Siambouris 30 years ago, when the two were working at his uncle's Yonge St. deli, Benny's, across from the Brass Rail.

Trichas was a busboy and Siambouris a waiter with John Travolta hair and a glint in his eye – "like a movie star," Trichas says.

The two discovered they shared a dream to strike it rich with a chain of restaurants or a big idea. But after Benny's closed in 1986, they lost touch for 20 years as Siambouris moved back to his native Greece.

Trichas went to work at Sunset Grill, an unknown eggs and bacon place when his uncle bought it in 1989, and spent two decades in an apron slogging it out over a hot stove.

He says his eyes lit up seven years ago, when Siambouris came back into his life, taking a waiter job at the Sunset.

"We were back to trying to think how we could become millionaires," Trichas says.

At coffee breaks or after work, sitting at table 4, the duo would bounce ideas off one another.

For three years, nothing stuck. Until that eureka moment in 2004.

Card players all their lives, they both hated having to stand up to deal cards and even more, the possible sleight of hand.

For two years the pair, both married with young kids, spent countless hours in their basements to create a working model.

Once they did, they needed a financial backer and approached Mailing, a Sunset regular.

He has invested more than $70,000 in the Wheel-R-Dealer, which is being made in Shenzhen and marketed worldwide.

"I saw an opportunity," said Mailing. "I'm a gambler. I'll take a chance."

As for Trichas, he flashes a smile at a Sunset waitress who offers to refresh his neglected coffee.

"You can't quit. I believe in that now."



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Monday, December 15, 2008

The Rags They Weave

PhilStar.com reports on women making it happen with some bits of rags.

By Eden E. Estopace Updated December 14, 2008 12:00 AM

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They have been weaving rags for years, and can’t recall now when, or how it started, who originally thought of braiding fabric scraps from factories into a patchwork to become functional doormats found in most Filipino homes.

Along sidewalks, usually near public markets, they sell for P10 to P15 a piece. Long before they found their way into department stores and supermarkets, the rags were sold by ambulant vendors for a measly P1 margin per piece or even lower.

Cynthia Cabrera, a long-time rag weaver from Payatas in Quezon City, says that making rags is hard work. First, you buy bolts of scraps from textile factories, cut the disjointed pieces into uniform sizes and tie them together to form a thick thread, then patiently loop them around a wooden frame to create a pattern.

Each rag is a labor of love for the women of Payatas, weaving in between cooking, mopping floors, washing clothes and dishes, rocking the baby to sleep, bringing older kids to school, and innumerable other household tasks. Selling them is another thing; either to the market to sell to another vendor or they sell them around their neighborhoods.

“Puede rin ho kaming malugi (we could also lose money),” Cynthia shares. The catch is to be able to sell the finished rags at a price higher than the purchase price of the scraps they were made of. Not being businessmen or entrepreneurs, the profit is small. Yet, the women – yes, it could only be a woman’s labor of love, at least in the beginning – have made rag weaving a homegrown industry.

Everywhere in this urban poor community, there are rag weavers. Where there is a need make ends meet, there is always some scraps of cloth to be woven into hope.

That was then. Today, Cynthia and her neighbors still weave rags, not for wiping shoes but for high-end fashion bags for fashionistas here and abroad. From bits and pieces of nothing to something with aesthetic and economic value, from scraps to commercial products, the quintessential Payatas rag has made the journey from a humble mass product to a world-class Philippine export.

The transformation, says Cynthia, was the effort of a Jesuit brother’s apostolic work in the former garbage dump.

Xavier Alpasa, SJ, president of the company that is now known as Rags2Riches Inc., which helped the women of Payatas form a business venture that is considered one of the most successful in recent years, recalls that the “rags to riches” concept came up during an evening gathering of friends over wine and cheese.

Brother Javy, as he is called, recalls that the conversation in that long-ago gathering was centered on a friend sharing his life story, which he described as one of “rags to riches” and his wish to find a way to be able to help others break the barriers of poverty and social disadvantage.

The friend, Mel Vergel de Dios, was once president of the Young Designers Guild. He, however, did not live long enough to see his dream come to fruition. His untimely death had, in fact, stalled the concept for some time. However, in due time and by God’s grace, it was eventually formed into a concrete action plan like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle fitting together.

The apostolic work of the Jesuits in Payatas, which involved Brother Javy and college students from Ateneo and their friends and professional colleagues, became an army of volunteers that became the core group of the present company. What really started the ball rolling, so to speak, was a student donation of P10,000 – his graduation gift from his parents – which became the seed money to help create a sustainable livelihood venture for the women weavers of Payatas.

“Some students had this idea of making one-color rags – instead of multicolored ones sold in public markets – and selling them in bazaars,” Brother Javy shares. The idea was a hit and soon they were joining more bazaars and tiangges, and the one-colored rags were always in demand.

Not long after, they were toying with the idea of making the scraps into products other than rags. They had been wanting to seek the advice of famous fashion designer Rajo Laurel to create something out of the rags. After some time, one of the board members of Rags2Riches was able to arrange a meeting with the designer.

“While we were still talking, presenting our plans and our group, Mr. Laurel was already playing with the rag. Even before the meeting was over, he already made the first product that we are still selling now. He folded the rag, put three buttons and a ribbon and said, ‘This is not a rag, this is a wine holder.’”

The product, now known as the Mark Wine Holder and sold under the brand name RIIR, is showcased at the House of Laurel and sold in some of Manila’s high-end shops, and exported to Singapore and Japan. It was among the many product prototypes designed by Laurel for Rags2Riches as a volunteer, one of many professionals who embraced the cause of forming a social business enterprise for the women of Payatas.

Brother Javy shares that Rags2Riches is composed of volunteer professionals from many different fields, which include accountants, professional counselors, events organizers, designers, finance executives, all sharing their expertise for free. They were all instrumental in making this experiment in forming a social business enterprise work.

There were other products designed from the humble one-colored rag – the Ange tote, Maan envelope clutch, Javy eyeglass case, Memey utility kit, Tony tote, Jane purse, Cynthia bag and Reese yoga mat bag. Currently the products are exported to Singapore and Japan but the company hopes that in the coming year, they can also begin exporting to the Netherlands, the US, Australia and Indonesia as talks are already under way for their sale in these countries.

At the time of the interview with STARweek, Cynthia and Badette from the Rags2Riches office apologized for the delay in the schedule and for the limited time they could spare, since the women were rushing Christmas orders and they were under a tight schedule to finish 800 rags in a week’s time.

In one website that featured Rags2Riches and the business concept propelled into fruition by an army of volunteers, Brother Javy has been described as a “changemaker” for having founded the Philippines’ trendiest social business enterprise called Rags2Riches that utilizes high end fashion for poverty alleviation.” The Rags2Riches venture even won the Social Enterprise Award of the University of San Francisco International Business Plan Competition last year.

What change has Brother Javy and his volunteer brigade created in the lives of the women weavers?

“Madami (plenty),” attests Cynthia, who shares that the women can earn up to P1,000 a week for their effort. There are even families who depend entirely on rag weaving for Rags2Riches for a living.

“Meron na rin po kaming (We now have) quality control,” she adds. In the past, they would weave the rags any which way. Now, the weavers have to follow a strict procedure and even before one can weave, one has to apprentice with the seasoned weavers so they can learn to weave correctly.

“We reject pieces that do not conform to standards,” Cynthia says. That is why there are many weavers in the area who are not members of the Rags2Riches team. “Mas mahirap po kasing gawin yung rags namin at puedeng ma-reject yung gawa nila kapag hindi pumasa sa quality control (It is more difficult to weave this kind of rag and the finished product can be rejected if it does not pass quality control).”

Weaving for Rags2Riches also comes with a set of responsibilities. The women need to attend training on quality control, seminars on values and religious formation, leadership training, workshops on handling finances and running a cooperative venture, as well as other activities related to the Jesuits’ apostolic work.

Brother Javy explains this approach as the pillar of the Rags2Riches business, anchored on four Ps – profit, people, planet and positive influence. The women, he says, are trained not only to be good at making rags but in a holistic approach that encompasses the effect of their work on other people, the community and the planet or the world in general.

“Meron na din po kaming lalaking member (we now have a male member),” Cynthia discloses. It turns out that the man’s wife was extremely shy and so the man of the house attends meetings and seminars and weaves with the women while the wife stays home to mind the household.

Do they need to weave in groups? “Mas mabilis po kasi ang trabaho pag magkakakasama, kasi po tulong-tulong (Work gets done faster because we help each other),” says Cynthia. The collective effort also goes beyond rag weaving. According to Cynthia, in a group session, women usually leave for an hour or two to cook or fetch a child from school, then rejoin the group to resume weaving when they are free again. Somebody may leave a child in the care of the other women while she does some laundry or some errands. “So, tuloy-tuloy lang po ang trabaho (work continues),” says Cynthia.

Brother Javy says that from the present core group of 24 members, divided into five groups, they hope to eventually expand the operations to cover more areas in Payatas and even bring the concept to other urban poor communities in Metro Manila or even the provinces.

“But we need to make this sustainable first,” he shares. By December, the women’s group would have been registered as a fully functioning cooperative, with the women themselves running the business. Rags2Riches, the corporation, would then be a sort of holding company overseeing the cooperatives that would be eventually formed if the operation expands.

Cynthia now sits in the board of Rags2Riches and many others like her have big roles to play in the emerging cooperative. Meanwhile, the Rags2Riches board is preparing another glitzy launch of the second collection of high-end bags for Manila’s fashionable set. This time, Brother Javy shares, it is not just the bags, but the RIIR brand – and what it stands for – that will be featured.

“Small opportunities are often the beginning of great enterprises,” said Greek statesman Demosthenes many centuries ago. It still holds true to this day. Literally, an enterprise is born from rags to riches, all because of simple scraps that women weave.



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Thursday, December 11, 2008

Rags to riches tale began with barely a scent

The Daily Journal out of PA reports on another up and comer ignoring the economy and making in happen!

Vincent Spinnato Jr. is either psychic or driven.

In 1992, he was the

quirky Vineland High School junior with a passion for designing perfume bottles.

"That kid's got gumption," said his former guidance counselor Pat Phillips, recalling the earnest teen selling his plans to launch a beauty line under the trade name "Vincenzo" to anyone who would listen.

Now, 16 years later, he's on the cusp of turning his vision into reality. He's hired an Atlanta-based public relations firm to start spreading the news about the spring '09 launch of his two unisex product lines.

V.S. Vincenzo, priced from $34 to $150, will include 25 high-end skin, bath and body products. His Aegean Skin Care line, targeting the mass market, offers 35 items, ranging from $9.99 to $40.

To reach this point, Spinnato had to learn the cosmetics/fragrance business inside and out, build up a bankable reputation and then convince financial backers to invest millions in his vision.

"I'm very aggressive when I want something," Spinnato said. "I haven't slept since 1982."

Growing up near Atlantic City fine-tuned his gambling instincts.

"I'm a hard-core dice roller," he said. "I don't get nervous -- it's exciting more than anything."

The pending launch is no surprise to Phillips, who plans to be first in line -- cash in hand -- for Spinnato's products.

"I knew he was going to make it," she said, well acquainted with his fierce self-motivation. "It's rare -- you don't see it too often."

When he made up his mind to apply for admission to Dickinson College, Spinnato would leave VHS at the 2:10 p.m. dismissal and drive three hours to the campus in Carlisle, Pa. He'd sit in on classes and hang out at the registrar's office, introducing himself to everyone.

"He had professors pulling for him to get in," she said.

And he did.

But once on campus, Spinnato still wasn't happy.

"I felt stifled, it was so frustrating," he said.

Instead of wasting time, he picked up and moved on.

"I had no money, I didn't even know where I was going -- Beverly Hills, Atlanta or Miami -- I got in my car and stopped when I hit the Pacific Ocean. I slept on the beach that first night."

Some predicted Spinnato would be home in six months.

But his mother, Henrietta Spinnato, knew better.

"I told them, 'I don't think so,'" she said. "He's just so determined."

When he was 13, Spinnato would tag along with his mother when she went shopping at Macy's, gravitating to the skin care counters.

"He would check out what was new," said Henrietta, a Vineland resident. "We would come home and I'd see him with a sketch pad. He really has never wanted to do anything but this."

Starting from scratch, Spinnato got to know the right people and always managed to be in the right place at the right time.

On his drive west, Spinnato picked up a Harper's Bazaar magazine that featured Riquette Hofstein, a pioneer in the kitchen cosmetics industry, which uses organic ingredients in skin care products.

"I called her," Spinnato said. "I said, 'You don't know me, (but) I want to work for you.'"

Hofstein hired the 20-year-old as an apprentice. He immersed himself in the industry, learning everything from product development to marketing strategies.

"I starved," he said. "I worked for free."

Spinnato got a little apartment and pieced together his rent with a hodgepodge of side jobs.

"I would do anything to keep a roof over my head," he said. "I wanted to work for this woman -- no major cosmetics company would take me on with no experience."

Eventually, he worked with wealthy clientele who commissioned personalized skin care products.

Spinnato's resume includes work for Estee Lauder, L'Oreal, Chanel, Procter & Gamble and Victoria's Secret.

"Now I have my foot in the door," he said.

It's taken 15 years to build up the professional reputation and financial backing to greenlight his personal line of products.

It's not makeup.

"Women, in general, are naturally beautiful," he said. "I'm trying to educate and encourage women to learn how to treat and correct their skin or skin conditions rather than cover these areas up with makeup -- in other words, how to bring out their natural beauty."

And in this teetering economy, he remains optimistic about his entrepreneurial success.

"Historically, the cosmetic industry seems to grow in spite of down time," Spinnato said. "The need for women and men to always clean and take care of their skin, or wash or condition their hair, or brush their teeth never goes away."

These days, Spinnato is down to the wire -- selecting brand colors and that all-important package design. He'd also like to woo a celebrity endorsement.

Life is good.

He's doesn't sleep on California's sandy shore. He has a trendy Laguna Beach address.

There are two Mercedes in the driveway -- a G Wagon and a convertible.

No longer an unpaid intern, Spinnato holds the top spot in his own business. Those letters that appear after his name in the company directory show how far he's risen.

"CEO," he said, with a chuckle.

Bracing for a new era, Spinnato is grateful to the people who invested both time and money to help make this lifelong dream come true.

"I want to pay them off in full," he said. "They don't expect to see it. They will get it.

"My parents have been phenomenal, remortgaging their home," he said. "They believe in me."

Next up?

He'll focus on generating some product buzz in major fashion magazines.

His fingers are crossed for a Vincenzo shout-out in Vogue.

"That would be the holy grail," he said.



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Wednesday, November 26, 2008

China's richest man, Huang Guangyu - a courteous billionaire

Gome Appliances Chairman Huang Guangyu

The Times reports that nice guys don't always finish last:

It was just after he had vaulted to the top of China’s rich list in 2005 that Huang Guangyu gave The Times an interview. The self-made billionaire’s career is a classic rags-to-riches tale, but unlike many of China’s nouveaux riches Mr Huang was unfailingly polite, at pains to be considerate and to make his guest feel comfortable.

He smokes, but throughout an interview lasting more than an hour the cigarettes on his neat desk lay untouched.

It was a display of unusual restraint in a country where officials and businessmen rarely bother to ask if their habit offends.

Even though his office, high in the Eagle Plaza skyscraper that he owns with his brother, is enormous and his desk a presidential crescent, he seemed genuinely uninterested in personal wealth.

Mr Huang lives with his wife and son in an ordinary apartment and said that he had no plans to use his riches to pay the fines associated with having a second child in China. He appeared embarrassed when asked what kind of car he owns - a Mercedes - and he only has one, he added quickly.

He works 13-hour days and holidays bore him - although he confessed that when travelling overseas he liked to browse in local electronics retailers to see how others run their stores. During a visit to London he enjoyed walking and looking at the old buildings but was still eager to get home and back to work.

The most surprising moment in our interview came at the end. He accompanied me to the lift and waited, bidding goodbye only as the doors closed. His courtesy gave me “face”, indicating that despite being China’s richest man, he still regarded me as his equal in this deeply hierarchical society.








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Monday, November 24, 2008

Rags To Riches Businessman Shares Success Story

Bill McCauley and his wife are the brains behind

NASHVILLE, Tenn.- A once broke builder, is now a Franklin business owner posting a profit, supervising happy employees, paying his workers like nobody else in the state, and even giving to charity.

Bill McCauley's Williamson County warehouse is about as massive as his generosity, but his super successful "Logo Chair Company."

Their company offers up to 200 college emblems from divisions one and two. McCauley said they started from meager beginnings.

"Oh yeah, we've been broke a couple times in our life. We actually were quite poor when we got started. Actually used to live in government housing when I had two kids, so," said McCauley.

McCauley and his wife are the brains behind "Logo," one of the country's top five suppliers of collegiate "non-apparel" products. It's only a warehouse, but Saturday Logo opened its doors to customers who, even in the worst of times, are ready to "sit the bench."

"We got a couple tailgate games for the Vanderbilt and Alabama games.. uh, for my son in laws. I got my son-in-law a Detroit Tiger tent for over his head. I mean, he's going to be thrilled," said Peggy Love, Columbia Resident and Logo Warehouse Shopper.

Logo employees say it feels like family there.  "It's only like a handful of us here, so.. we all know each other. We all hang out with each other outside of work. So, that's the best thing about it," said Tovarus Williams, Logo Warehouse Employee.

The owner of "LOGO" says he'll donate some money he made Saturday and even some left over merchandise to charity.



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Friday, November 21, 2008

From Rags to Riches

THE second of the Kenton Lectures will be given by Dame Stephanie Shirley, a lifetime achievement winner at the Henley Standard Business Awards.

Dame Shirley, who lives in Phyllis Court Drive, Henley, has called her talk Give and take — an unusual tale of rags to riches.
She will tell the story of her childhood as an unaccompanied German refugee and her journey to becoming one of England’s most successful businesswomen.

Dame Shirley has formed three charity organisations: the Kingswood Trust, the Priors Court Foundation and the Shirley Foundation.

She has also given away more than £50million, mainly to autism charities. Her talk on December 1 will begin at 8pm and tickets are available from the Kenton Theatre box office in New Street (01491) 575698.



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