Q: Whatever possessed you to get into this business?
A: I have no fear. I’m an idiot and don’t know my limitations. I feel like I can succeed at anything I like. I like my home and the things in it. That’s why the catalogue. If I could paint or sculpt, I’d move to Bordeaux and never talk to anyone again. ~ Cher, in a Los Angeles Times article, 1995
sanctuary
The story of how a little handmade necklace found its way into a 90's whimsigoth, medieval-core catalog by the one-and-only Cher.
the beginning
It was the early 90s; I was working as a receptionist on Newbury Street in Boston. It was a vibrant location, surrounded by fashion, art, and architecture in the Back Bay. It was a time of trying to become less timid, going to parties and nightclubbing - but also a time of devastation due to the many losses we experienced during the AIDS crisis happening around us in the community. Cycles of joy and grief.
boston
My co-workers there became friends, family, and creative collaborators. There were lunch-break photo shoots on the roof deck, by the then-grungy brick buildings of the waterfront, and in the parks on days off. Fashion and Hair Shows. Making jewelry while working full-time at the salon, selling to local boutiques.My designs at that time were mainly created out of clay and glass; the metalsmithing I had just studied at SMFA would have to wait a few decades.
I had many of the same inspirations as I still have today: medieval opulence, illuminated manuscripts, Gothic Architecture. Icons & symbolism.
black velvet 90's
fort point channel grunge
the introduction
A woman I worked with named Pamela brought in a catalog that she had received in the mail - excitedly shaking it while handing it to me, saying, "You HAVE to get your jewelry into this!" It was a glorious, glossy explosion of medievalesque treasures. With a fabulous image of Cher on the cover.
Encouraged by her enthusiasm, I put together a hand-bound book of ribbon and parchment paper with photos of my jewelry pasted on each page. I mailed it off and went about my life.
The salon I was working at was opening a new location in Atlanta and offered me a job there. My partner and I were up for the change of scenery and headed South with our three cats. Just before leaving, I got a letter from the buyer at Sanctuary. They were interested in seeing some samples; I was thrilled, but overwhelmed at the timing. I boxed up some of my favorite pieces and shipped them off.
atlanta
Atlanta was a grand adventure. I was lucky enough to be setting out with a few of the Boston crew so it felt less intimidating for my first big move. The rest of the team was gathered from Vidal Sassoon locations from around the US and the UK.
Jewelry was made for more photo shoots, hair shows & performances in the clubs with local fashion designers. It was the time of the Atlanta Olympics, and the city was buzzing.
vidal sassoon atlanta team
what have I done?
We were living in a rental near the zoo when I got a phone call from the buyer with questions about one of the necklaces I had sent them. After talking to her for a few minutes, she said, "She has a question for you..." and handed the phone to someone.
I did not expect to hear Cher's iconic voice on the other end of the line.
I can't remember the entire conversation as I was mostly having an out-of-body experience. Staring wide-eyed at my partner, Cher told me that she loved the crystal cross necklace and wore it all the time.
Then came the line I will never forget: "Could you just make the middle part a little less chubby?"
Of course I obliged, and they placed an order.
Here comes the panic.
At that point, I had NEVER made even more than one of anything. I collected vintage chains, beads, and crystals picked up here and there to adorn my handmade pendants. Deadstock or repurposed, nothing wholesale. Now I had to source all of the supplies and findings to duplicate this necklace in a new state, pre-internet and individually sculpt sixty pendants! With a deadline and a full-time job!
We soon moved into a circa 1895 cottage by the Chattahoochee River on the upper west side of Atlanta.
Purchased from an eccentric man named FLASH, the house was filled with stacks of old computers and needed a lot of work and updating. But it was cheap and had really lovely Victorian details, fireplaces and woodwork. The land and garden was more than I ever had back in New England, happy to leave winter behind and learned to garden. (Until my neighbor's chickens pulled up my flowers and I gave up.)
While working on renovations, I set about filling the order in my new spacious studio looking out onto the beautiful dogwood trees in the backyard. I really loved that house, and the historic neighborhood built for the workers of a textile mill that closed down in the 70's and abandoned to arson and neglect, leaving just a tower. It always felt a bit haunted back there.
I still don't know how I managed to get them all made in time, but I did!
Here is one set of thirty, ready to go. Every single one sculpted by hand, fired, and painted.
I'm so happy to work in cast metal now, allowing me to really spend time with elaborate detail that wouldn't have been very cost-effective. As it is, I'm pretty sure I lost money filling the order at the price we agreed upon. I had no idea how long it would take, or how much work I had to do to find the supplies needed. But that was only my first mistake.
the hard lesson
The necklace did well, and the buying team requested another batch of new samples to pick through for the next catalog that they were planning. I made five or six new designs, and quickly shipped them off to California.
Time passed, and I never heard from the buyers again. I would call and leave messages, with no response. After a while, the lines went dead.
The catalog offices had shut down.
It is hard for me to explain how upsetting it was that so many pieces I had made were just now...gone. I was new to wholesaling and didn't understand that samples were essentially seen as "giveaways". The necklaces that weren't chosen from the last batch were returned to me, so I assumed (without getting anything in writing) that whatever wasn't chosen would come back home. I had put my heart, soul, and time into each piece and tried to get them back in any way that I could, but it was seemingly impossible at that pre-internet and social media era to get in touch with anyone connected to the business.
So I eventually gave up and took it as a costly lesson - one that honestly stung for a long while. With the passage of time and new understanding, I don't feel anything but gratitude about my experience with Sanctuary. It showed me how much I could accomplish when I didn't listen to the inner critic voice and just put myself and my work out there no matter what. I kept trying, and it led me to some really wonderful collaborations over the years - with a jewelry rep in the film & tv costume industry, and the still-ongoing museum gift shop experiences that I treasure.
I do still sometimes wonder where those lost pieces ended up and whether they are having a good life somewhere.
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