Welcome Companions
Before designer Laurel Consuelo Broughton began making clever accessories for her line Welcome Companions, she had her sights set on something larger-scale. In 2006, she finished her grad studies at the Southern California Institute of Architecture and immediately jumped into designing houses, shops, art centers, and more with the firm Johnston Marklee in Los Angeles. In the back of her mind, though, she knew she wanted to make something a little, well, littler. “I’ve always been an accessories person,” she explains. “My clothes tend to be minimal, but it’s the addition of the accessory that’s more the point of novelty. In the end, it was a natural direction for me to go.”
So in 2009, Laurel took a job teaching at USC’s School of Architecture and began working on a line of structurally focused bags, clutches, wallets, and scarves on the side. “Obviously designing a house and designing a bag are totally different, but there are underpinnings of conceptual ideas and design ideas that, for me, are very similar,” she explains. Today she creates playful-yet-functional accessories that marry the visual and the tactile—think a purse the looks like a piece of toast. “A lot of the work has to do with this idea of shapes and how we use shapes and recognize shapes,” she explains. Well, we can’t wait to see the shape of things to come. —monica derevjanik
comments, reblogs & likes
Wolfum
Good style is in Annabel Inganni’s blood. “My mother was quite the hostess and set a beautiful table, always with cloth napkins,” she recalls. Growing up exposed to an eclectic spread of awesomeness presented by her mom and her cohorts—“from very classic, old-school New England prep to the more bohemian eighties flair”—Annabel really embraced this idea of creating a home that’s always ready for a party. And, in August 2011, she started a killer line of housewares—from bookends and pillows to coasters and drinking glasses—to bring her entertaining mantra to people who use the term crazy-busy all too often.
But how did she develop her now-signature light-hearted (but grown-up) vibe? “I accidentally stumbled onto the unique print technique that I use in my designs today. Once we saw how beautiful that was, we were done,” she explains. With the help of her husband’s woodshop, she took her bold motifs to FSC-certified wood, recycled polyester, and organic cotton twill—all eco-friendly. Her line’s biggest inspiration: “My daughter Birdie—I want her to remember her childhood filled with color and mommy’s crazy patterns.” —carly pifer
comments, reblogs & likes
La Matera
When Brook Stroud (right) was a senior in college, an uncle invited him and his younger brother, Alex, to join him on a trip to South America. Together, the trio spent a week fishing, camping, and cattle-herding at a ranch alongside the property’s well-seasoned gauchos, and then they headed to Buenos Aires. “We kept seeing the same colors and patterns and fabrics in the stores in Buenos Aires as we’d seen on the gauchos,” Brook explains. Intrigued, the brothers bought a slew of wallets and belts with woven accents as souvenirs.
It wasn’t until the following summer—when Alex returned to the Argentine countryside alone—that the idea to actually make something of their new fascination surfaced. “Alex definitely had the ‘a-ha’ moment,” explains Brook. “He figured that instead of just bringing belts back, we could actually work on designing a line ourselves.” The brothers’ aim? To create a hardwearing, B.A.-inflected take on New England’s preppy ribbon belt standard.
The resulting line, which they launched in 2012, is La Matera—named for the spot where Latin American families traditionally unwind together after long days at work. And while the belts are produced in the United States, Brook and Alex are holding onto their international roots. Up next, the Strouds plan to add a range of wallets handmade in Italy—which sounds muy bueno, molto buona, and all-around really awesome to us. —mattie kahn
comments, reblogs & likes
Kathleen Whitaker
“The youngest person that’s worn my stuff is eight years old, and the oldest person I’ve seen wearing my stuff is in her sixties. And there are some dudes who have worn my jewelry,” laughs Kathleen Whitaker, explaining her namesake line’s diverse fan base. What gives? Her clean, simple, and hyper-adaptable aesthetic, which takes its cues from Japanese minimalism and the delicacy of English porcelain—in fact, she studied ceramics at Newcomb College at Tulane University, which helped her develop that keen eye of hers.
After working a series of desk jobs in L.A.—PR, corporate philanthropy, financial services!—Kathleen felt that compulsion to get back to her artsy roots and dove into some jewelry-making classes, which sparked a new hobby. “I liked the idea of sculpting something and understanding how certain types of matter can accommodate a design—sort of like what metal will let you do versus what clay will let you do,” she says. Her then-boyfriend set up a website to show off her designs, she did some time at Echo Park Craft Fair (what started as a friend’s backyard affair that’s now a major L.A. event), and bam: Her quiet jewelry attracted some noisy West Coast buzz, turning this burgeoning brand into her full-time gig.
That was in 2009. These days, she’s working on growing her international presence and getting back into her earthen roots by introducing her equally beautiful ceramic pieces to the mix. But the jewelry? That’s sticking around for the long haul. —koun bae
comments, reblogs & likes
Katie Kime
Katie Kime always knew she was going to be an artist—she was making clay pots at seven and drawing Van Gogh cutting off his ear at nine. Plus, creativity runs in the family: Her mom’s a painter, and her dad’s a woodworker. Even still, it wasn’t until college that being a creator really struck her as a viable career option. In 2006, at the end of her senior year at Duke University, Katie put together a trunk show of the random things she’d made over the years—frames constructed from old library books, custom-printed paper, refurbished antique furniture. The response was, in a word, overwhelming.
After moving to Austin and producing an accessories collection in Rwanda through the Africa New Life organization, she dove head first into developing her namesake label of furniture and home goods that draw from her color-happy North Carolina upbringing. “Growing up in the South, my dad wore seersucker suits and bowties, like, not as a joke,” Katie says.
But fused with a certain south-of-the-Mason-Dixon preppiness are influences from her many travels—everywhere from Kenya to Fiji to Bolivia. That said: Everything she produces is made right here in the U.S.A. —olivia seely
comments, reblogs & likes
Macha
“I was keen to do something with my hands again,” explains Bernice Kelly, a Brooklyn transplant who worked as a fashion designer for some of the big guys for a decade before tiring of her climb up the corporate ladder’s seemingly endless rungs. “When you become quite senior, you lose a little bit of your creativity,” she elaborates. Hoping to reclaim it, Bernice embarked on a six-week road trip across America and returned to New York ready to get some dirt under her nails.
“One of the things I fell into when I got back was jewelry,” she says. “It felt really satisfying to me, and I was really interested in the technical side of it as well.” So she signed herself up for a spate of classes, and it wasn’t long before her style-minded friends were clamoring for her darkly romantic pieces. Bolstered by their encouragement, Bernice set up shop on Etsy in 2008, christening her newborn line Macha—the Gallic name of her hometown in Ireland.
As her label and its customers grew up, she’s added super-special engagement rings to the mix. “I often say that part of my job is to reduce grown men to tears,” jokes Bernice. “But really, it’s beautiful to create something that people are going to wear for the rest of their lives. I think I’m pretty lucky.” —mattie kahn
comments, reblogs & likes
Hortense Jewelry
Long before French-born Hortense Bonneau was designing her line, she was a kid with an eye for jewelry. “When I was five, I went to Florence with my dad. There’s one street with jewelers on both sides, and I wanted to go inside every store,” she says. “Then, at 10, I went Place Vendôme in Paris, spending hours looking into the windows of Van Cleef & Arpels and Cartier.”
But she ended up working as a photo editor at a magazine for years before realizing she had an itch. “I wanted to do something with my hands, but I didn’t know what. So my husband sat me down and asked me what I liked in life,” she recalls. The first thing that came to mind: jewelry.
When she moved to San Fran with her movie-animator man, she made the switch. “I washed dogs. That’s how I made money to buy a bench and tools,” she says. One year later, Hortense registered at the Academy of Art and the Alan Revere Academy, and after working as a metalsmith for other designers, launched her own fine-jewelry label in 2007. Over the years, it’s evolved as her life has—taking a pause when her daughter Lola was born, making the move to L.A. when she did, getting daintier when the mood struck her. “Step by step, that’s how I grew.” —alisha prakash
comments, reblogs & likes
Jaqet
The origin of the word entrepreneur is especially fitting for the French-born accessories designer Jacques Flynn, who started making his own wallets when he couldn’t scout out a minimalist style that suited him. Turns out, he was hardly alone: Soon after he started, a few of his friends requested his no-nonsense creations…and then a few strangers. In June 2012, his brand Jaqet was officially born.
Jacques constructs all of his products using a saddle stitch, “an extremely old stitch style that can only be done properly by hand,” he explains. And then there are the colors of the Jaqet leathers, which have a certain grainy richness thanks to the water-based dyes—and a secret technique—he uses.
When he’s not thinking about sleekifying your leather goods, he’s contemplating ways to streamline your car, moonlighting as an exterior designer at Mazda in Long Beach, California. But what do cars and wallets have in common? “I’d say a car is a man’s ultimate accessory,” he says of a ride’s ability to speak volumes about the guy who drives it (especially in L.A.!). That, and the possibility for excellence in design and craftsmanship—something he brings to both of his pursuits. —carly pifer
comments, reblogs & likes
Mabo Kids
Emily McMaster’s daughter, Ruby, who’s now five, was the best-dressed little girl on the block: checked A-line dresses, striped cotton tees, little floral bloomers. In fact, Ruby looked so adorable in her duds that all the neighborhood moms—first in New York, and then in Salt Lake City—were constantly stopping her to ask where she scored them.
The answer: Emily made them herself, raiding flea markets for vintage patterns and quickly developing her own designs. In 2010, she decided it was about time to share the wealth, launching Mabo Kids, a line of classic, affordable clothing for girls and boys—all made from natural, organic materials by manufacturers in Utah and Colorado. If you’ve never gone shopping for children’s clothes before, this sort of thing is a super rarity. “It’s either $150 for a nice dress, or you’re stuck with something made with cheap polyester and covered with frills,” says Emily. “Which is not my style.”
These days, Emily’s outfitting two—Ruby’s sister Mabel arrived on the scene in 2009—and has plans to do what she can to take advantage of these baby-fat years, possibly adding some formalwear to the Mabo mix. “You know, kids grow up so fast,” says Emily, summing up her design philosophy. “You might as well put them in something cute.” —raquel laneri
comments, reblogs & likes
Ash & Anchor
Nina Glaser has always been an artist—she studied at RISD, Syracuse, and the Maryland Institute College of Art. But when a visiting painter pointed out that she seemed to be more interested in the designs she was putting in the background of her paintings than anything else, a light bulb went off. “I’d sort of always known I loved drawing these intricate patterns but didn’t realize how much,” Nina says.
So in 2011, she founded Ash & Anchor, printing her designs—which draw inspiration from art magazines, poetry, and even Greek myths—on card stock. But it was when she put her motifs on fabric in 2012 that she really felt like she was onto something. “These patterns are just buried in my mind,” says the Philly-based designer. “I just try to think about how I can incorporate them into clothing that people are wearing today.”
Her creative process involves a lot of sketching—which she does on a tablet that feeds directly into Photoshop, allowing her to change a pattern’s color a million times. Designs can take anywhere from a couple of days to a week to complete—and sometimes the best result comes from a mash-up of a few different patterns. “I love when it turns out that elements of two different designs would look better together as one brand new piece. It’s exciting seeing things take shape in ways I didn’t expect!” —carrie neill
