It's Beyond Her

Life is Too Short for Ugly Dish Towels

I'm not just saying this -- I truly believe it, like some people believe in, well, heaven, or free markets, or Santa Claus.

As anyone, most painfully my children, will tell you, I am not an extravagant person or a big consumer. I'm pretty thrifty when it comes to most things -- and like my mother I am ALLERGIC to collections of anything.

I always laugh that although she gushed over a beautiful little gold clock I gave her for a birthday after she retired, she stopped abruptly, stared me down and said, "Now, don't buy me any more of these."

A few years later, one of my friends was absolutely floored when I gave her my perfectly wonderful wallet because I had bought a smaller new one. "What, you can't own two wallets?" she asked, dumbfounded. It had honestly never occurred to me.  What would I do with it?

Lest you think I am some kind of ascetic, I will assure you that I do buy and collect, freely and without remorse, my fair share of dish towels.

Curating the Collection

Long before there was a Beyond Her, I was buying various tea towels, guest towels, and kitchen towels that I considered works of art. If they were truly worthy -- meaning if they were abosorbent, durable, a pleasure to use -- I grew to treasure them.  There were (and still are) some I still love to see come out of the drawer or the dryer.

As another textile-loving friend once said, "When they get a little hole, that's how you know a good towel from a bad one." See, I'm not the only one.

And yet, market after market, I see perfectly wonderful, conscious, well cared for people deny themselves this little, yet to me so important, pleasure.  "I can't buy them," they say as they fondle the cotton and linen towels, "they're too pretty." 

You know what I consider too pretty?  The Hope Diamond.  A white Bentley.  A Manhattan penthouse.  But we're talking about a $14 dish towel here. Seriously?

Art for Every Day

Here's my philosophy:  Dish towels are something you look and use every day of your life. They sit on your counters, get used as hot pads, line your breadbaskets, get tied on as aprons.  Shouldn't they be gorgeous?  Especially for under $20? 

My daughter told me that her friend clued her into one way to justify seemingly outlandish clothing epxenditures.  "It's called 'cost-per-wearing!" she proudly exclaimed.  Well, if you use "cost-per-looking" on a dish towel, it's just about the best value in the house. 

One of my proudest moments came recently at an outdoor market.  A man, and we get very few of them in the Beyond Her booth, was lingering around.  He finally approached me and said, "I didn't want to use your towels, but I did.  And now I really like them." 

Joy!  A convert!  Evidently, someone had given him a set of Beyond Her towels as a gift, and he hadn't realized they were, truly, built for the real world. 

Which they -- and ideally all of the Beyond Her collection --  are.  I have holes to prove it. 

 

Discover the Beyond Her dish towel collection at www.beyondher.com

 

What's Beyond Her?

When this much time has passed between blog posts, you know it has been a busy spring.

Admitedly, there has also been a little chest-beating going on at the sidelines -- as per usual.  I mean, really, how are we to make these decisions? What belongs on Facebook, what on Pinterest, and various other eblasts, tweets and website updates?

How much communicating can one company, especially one so micro-sized that the entire C-suite fits into one pair of pants, do?

So I've taken a breather. If you're here, you might be glad to know I'm recommitting to the blog, probably on a once-to-twice a month schedule.  Shorter.  More visual.  And all about the Beyond Her point of view.

Back to Basics

It comes up a bit:  how did we get to the name Beyond Her?  I've told the story 1000 times, but the gist of it is, it's based on the many, many things that confuse, and in the end, amuse me.  

There's an old saying, "It's beyond my ken," which meant whatever you were discussing was over your head, outside your pay grade.  Someone got me saying, "It's beyond my Ken and Barbie," which kept me entertained for a little while. 

In the end, I settled for the shorter "It's beyond me" so often that a friend once emphatically pronounced, "If you ever have a company, you've got to name it that.  It's all you ever say."

In a world where smarty pants, know-it-alls and blowhards abound, I am not ashamed to admit:  I understand nothing. This makes the entire universe Beyond Her.

But, seriously?

I thought I'd share a few examples of the types of things I ponder during an average day.  It's beyond me, for example, . . .

 . . .why some panel trucks have a big bold FISH painted on the outside.  I mean, are they explosive fish? Do fish cause some pacemakers to go haywire?

. . . how I ever reached the point where I can say "that was 50 years ago" -- and remember it. And this would be on a good day. So much of my past is a blur. 

. . . why cars are still lined up around the block to eat at McDonald's.  Are these people without access to a newspaper or the Internet?  Are there that many people binge-eating every single day?

. . . why my cat just can't accept the fact that we have a dog, necessitating the arched back, hissing, guttural roar at every single encounter, on the average of 7 times each day.

. . . how three of us siblings could have three completely different versions of how we grew up, who tortured whom, who was mom's favorite, and why we turned out the way we did. It's all so obvious -- to me.

. . . how it is that 200 people walk by my house every day with all kinds of plastic bags tie ceremoniously to their leashes and fanny packs, and there is still dog poop on my lawn.

Clearly, I'm a deep thinker.  With a business that is beyond her.

You Smell Good

I've missed the soap and candles that were once part the Beyond Her product line.  So here we go again.

Just in time for Mother's Day, a Beyond Her signature scent in a rich bath bar and a long burning soy candle.They smell wonderful -- earthy and sweet -- and are priced right at $6 / bar and $12 / candle.

For you local folks, both will be on hand at the Beyond Her booths at Discovery Green Flea on Saturday April 21 and AlternaCraft at boheme on Sunday April 22.  See my website for more information.

I'll get them online in good time. 

How Texas Made a Texan Out of Me

February is always a great time in Texas.  It's the time of the big thaw, meaning that all of us liver-bellied heatseekers can stop whining that it's only 40 degrees outside.  The first lush tufts of grass and buds appear.  The weather is crisp and cool, and the sky the amazing blue that we're famous for.

In Texas, February is spring.

February is the time when people visit Houston and say, "This isn't so bad," as they sit outside on the patio and drink mimosas, knowing that they are going home to a frozen tarmac and three more months of winter.

February is also the time of the Houston Livestock Show & Rodeo, which is a phenomenon in itself.  On the Friday before opening day, there are literally hundreds of trail riders on the freeway -- well, the feeder road -- on their way to camp out in one of the largest urban parks in America.

Trail riders greeted us the opening day of the Houston Livestock and Rodeo

Houston does not look like what most people expect, in that it is one big metropolitan mess of green. But we do our best to make up for that little oversight by embracing our inner Texans.  This is a place that loves western wear.

We come by it rightly, I suppose.  Great huge parts of Texas were really cattle ranches -- I think King Ranch is the size of Rhode Island and it's just one spread.  But here in Houston, most of our history was made by swindlers and businessmen.  I guess it still is. But they like their cowboy style.

It's hard not to get bit by the bug.  Playing cowboy comes easily if you watched enough tv growing up. The best cowboys (and cowgirls!) are as smart as they are tough, and they're kind of known for their big hearts.  The ones I've met are also wry (one of my favorite things for people to be).  They' tell it like it is.  And they will give you a good laugh if you earn it.

The worst cowboys are . . . well . . . see Rick Perry. 

So, here's where I am after 35 years in Texas: I don't listen to country and western music much, but I like it when I do. The stories are simple and the lyrics are easy to learn.

I broke down and bought a pair of cowboy boots a couple of years ago, and I immediately learned to love the lift and the look. 

I am a fan of good barbeque, and say "y'all," and exercise my right to yee-haw. 

So why was I surprised that I got a big dang lump in my throat when I witnessed the tail end of the trail ride while walking the dog last week?

All these years have made a Texan outta me, I guess.  Can I get a hell yes?

 

 

 

 

Hello Kitty is My Hero

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about business models, as I look for a way to make Beyond Her
grow.

I can come up with quite a few people who have turned their design aesthetics into successful companies:  Martha Stewart, Calvin Klein, Jonathan Adler.  I admire them all -- I mean, I truly admire them, for being able to get their businesses beyond the outdoor booth stage.  And these folks did it without the internet. Wow.

Martha Stewart, in particular, while not what I would call a high designer, has a look and feel to all her merchandise that is truly unmistakeable.  There's a signature look and feel (shall we call it collars-up WASP? not that there's anything wrong with that) to everything with her brand on it. 

And no matter what it is, anything from poodle jackets to slipcovers, I assume that it will be of good quality. If we know nothing else about Martha Stewart, it's that she is . . . demanding.

This standard is something I admire.  It's how I want Beyond Her products to be.

That's a Good Kitty

But guess who is a real icon to me in terms of branding?  Hello Kitty, the Sanrio character that adorns gear for everything from toddlers to punk rockers.

I have long been a fan (as shown by my 50-year-old mini-drawer set, which I still have at my desk)  although given my aversion to collections of ANYTHING, I don't own much Hello Kitty stuff.  I just (heart) it, for 3 good reasons.

1.  Clean, crisp, contemporary design.  With Kitty and  all of her friends, the colors are pure, the lines simple.  They are what I would call friendly and straightforward, but they aren't silly or cartoonish, just sweet. 

2.  A diverse and ever-changing product line -- it seems like they've tried it all.  I love a Sanrio store like crazy, with all its colored pencils and notebooks, plush toys and surfboards.  I once got so excited at the flagship store in San Francisco I had to go outside and breathe.

3.  The products are great products, not just image carriers.  If you buy a pen it's a good pen.  If you buy a tee, it's a good tee.  Whoever does Hello Kitty licensing is keeping their eye on the ball.

Hello Kitty stands for consistent style and cleverness, and quality, and diversity --  plus she makes me smile.  I think that's about the best any company could ever do. 

Thanks, Kitty, for the inspiration. 

San Francisco, Here We Come!

Beyond Her will make our debut gift show appearance at the San Francisco International Gift Fair Feb. 18-22, 2012.  Finally pulled the trigger, and immediately started fretting -- "we're not ready," "we are just beginners," "this is going to cost a fortune."  You know the lyrics! 

So now we're working on how to stand out in a 10 x 10 curtained booth environment.  More to come! 

 

 

 

 

 

New Year's Resolutions: A Case for Complicated

I happened to be discussing the topic of New Year's Resolutions with a bank teller the other day.  He said he likes to keep his goals pretty general.  For 2012, for instance, he has one resolution:  to make better decisions. 

I had to laugh.  Just that very morning, I had created what looks like a turnaround strategy for General Motors to accurately capture my personal set of New Year's Resolutions. 

Just like every other year, I have them broken down into categories, and several of them have multiple parts, with associated timelines. 

My husband's reaction upon seeing my wall full of bubbles was, "So, where's the decoder ring?" And sadly, the only name in the "Responsible Party" column is mine.

Call me a schmuck for believing all the business advice I have read and written about over the years, but I am a great believer in setting very specific goals and plotting them in intricate detail.

Not that I always reach them, not that the plan always works, but at least it gives me a place to pick up when come home from a vacation with a burst of energy -- or raise my head from a sob session.

Goals are measuring sticks, and a way to keep the years from running into one another.  Personally, I think the bank teller could make his first better decision by resolving to take this resolution stuff more seriously.

Goals are never simple with a complicated girl

My plans for the new year are all very baroque and complex, which is just the way I like it. And which, by the way, life just IS, the last time I looked.

Some of my resolutions are very heady -- I'd like to find something, someone, somewhere to worship with a full heart and a straight face -- that would mean a nondiscriminatory, nonsexist, nonpolitical religion with a sufficient amount of mystique.  Good luck, right? 

On the other hand, I have resolved once again to quit biting my cuticles.  If this year is like years past, I will find both of these completely divergent goals equally challenging.

But if things work out well, I will be praying fervently with perfectly manicured hands.

Need a place to write down your multi-faceted plans?  The Beyond Her Every Day Journal is a 50-page, wiro-bound notebook that inspires you with original images and quotes from the wisest people in the world.  At 5 x 8 inches, it's the perfect size for your purse and lap, and its screenprinted cover folds back all the way.   So let the muses begin! On our website, $16

 

Me encanta la Navidad en México

I like Mexico for a lot of different reasons.  I love the people.  I love the bold colors.  I like the pace of things. I like the exchange rate.

We started going to Mexico for Christmas in 1995.  We caught a short flight in a brand new airplane (there was not a single scratch on the windows) to Mexico City on Christmas morning.  The airport, and the bus station where we caught an Express to San Miguel, were deserted, easy to navigate, just a few pieces of dropped tinsel to remind  us what day it was.

It was only later that we realized what a mob scene these hubs normally are.  I'm sure that we would still be trying to find our gate -- and each other -- if we had landed on a regular day.

We've gone back at Christmas several times since, always to San Miguel de Allende, which is a colonial city in the center of the country, preserved in many wonderful ways -- cobblestone streets, ancient cathedral, an artists' mecca of legendary proportions.  Which is populated mostly by retired Americans. And visited by lots and lots of Texans.

That's the down side.  Because that's who brings the Suburbans, and creates the need for things like dry cleaners.  

Personally, I like going to San Miguel at Christmas because of its native innocence and humility. Coming from Houston, where there is no such thing as too big, too much, or too loud, the little shrines and twinkle lights in the store windows remind me of what Christmas is meant to be.  

The season there is very, very sweet.

Los milagros

These are people who still believe in miracles.  On one visit, we took a trip to a pilgrimage site in Guanajato, and watched a couple scoot reverently on their knees toward the altar to pray for . . . something.  Countless thick shocks of jet black ponytails were hung on the church walls, either in sacrifice for a request or in gratitude for a granted wish.

We knew the stories because next to each offeringthere were homemade tableaux.  The drawings showed car accidents, hospital beds, domestic scenes in need of healing.

Faith has a place here. God has a place here. 

What makes these holiday trips even more charming is that we actually miss their holiday, celebrated on Dec. 24.  We witness what's left of the decorations, a few religious parades, and a city basked in afterglow.

Little lights

At Christmastime in San Miguel, everything is made to sparkle, but not with strands and strands of LED lights - more like a few strands of tinsel, a candle, a cutout from an old Christmas card.  Their decorations are not as, let's say, aggressive as ours.  

I often think of a school courtyard in San Miguel that was dry and dusty, as things tend to be there,  and overworn from constant foot traffic.  

Somehow, however, a lone poinsettia plant had made its home there.  A few stems, a couple of red blossoms -- it was not a showpiece like the 50-stem monstrosities that get delivered to my door. 

But someone, perhaps everyone, had carefully staked out a zone around this little transplant, right there in the midst of the intersection.  It had been watered and groomed, and it was thriving, surrounded by all the distress around it.  

I remember thinking, "This is just so Mexico -- beauty where you find it."  

To me, that poinsettia -- and that thought -- were a Christmas gift.  Here's to the little things.

 

In Sight: Why Drawing Matters

I once read an article about a creative physician.  His bedside manner was a bit confusing to new patients, because throughout the examination (at least, I'm assuming, the interview portion), he was deeply absorbed in his sketch pad, drawing. He was looking, but he was drawing. 

The article was illustrated with a few of the sketches he produced.  They were of the patients, and they were rather primitive looking - more like doodles than portraits, really.  This physician's point was that the drawing allowed  him to focus very specifically on the way the patient looked, even more than on what they said.  To really notice the details -- a little bump here, a scab there, some swelling, an emerging bruise. 

This physician solved quite a few medical mysteries.  Turns out, his was an excellent technique to gain insights into the patient's condition. This doctor claimed that through the drawing process he picked up all kinds of hints into the patient's health that he otherwise might have missed. 

Drawing is one way to see.

This isn't news to art teachers, of course.  Many, many art classes begin with the exercise of drawing a simple still life without ever looking down, or away from the subject.

That once-huge phenomenon, Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, was all about unplugging yourself from expectations and letting your eyes, and your subconscious, do the work.

Of course, the product isn't meant to be fine art, and it most often isn't.  But the process of disconnecting from your judgemental side -- of really looking at whatever skull, or flower or exotic vase the teacher has placed among the blankets -- does give you a hint of the real task at hand:  seeing

And that is where the beauty is. 

At least, that is where I find it. The things I draw,  almost always plants or animals or some small domestic item, are always more amazing and exquisite than I ever imagined starting out. Also more complicated: nothing in nature is ever simple.

And because of that, drawing has made me a worshiper of divine design -- you can't look at the symmetry and beauty and pattern in natural objects and not come away with a sense of wonder.

An everyday feather is an amazing thing.

As a teacher of mine once said about having the courage to draw boldly, "What have you got to lose, a piece of paper?"  To me, the point is more what you have to gain:   A trip to the unconscious, a new way of looking at the world, and, oh yes, that moment of zen.

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LOL moment:  While writing this article, I just couldn't help thinking about Mike Myers and his Saturday Night Live skits about Simon.  HIs little song, "Hello, my name is Simon, and I like to do drawer-ings," has made me laugh at least a thousand times over the years.   For a quick chuckle, go to http://www.hulu.com/watch/19309/saturday-night-live-simon

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The feather illustration is from the 2012 Art for Every Day Calendar from Beyond Her.  Photos and ordering information on the Beyond Her website.

 

 

Design for Better Lives - A Must Read

If you think design doesn't matter -- or if you believe in the power of design, read this. 

It's a stimulating article about how urban design is impacting the lives in neighborhoods all around the world.

Ideas like these are what make the world go 'round, in my humble opinion. 

Rescued by Design, by Michael Kimmelman, NY Times, Oct. 23

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And then there are dishtowels . . . Some of Beyond Her's Fall 2011 Collection is on-line now.  Check out the scarves, "Eva-Ning Shawls," and many new dishtowels, just in time for the holidays.

Beyond Her website

Ode to Steve Jobs: Design Hero

I realize I'm a little late on this, but it's taken some time to clarify my thoughts on the passing of Steve Jobs.  Obviously, I didn't know the man, but I found myself getting a little misty when I heard of his passing.  Why?  Because, like many others, Steve Jobs changed my life.

As obsessed as I am with design, Steve Jobs did a better job of integrating it into our lives than anyone else.  And he did it with the geekiest of appliances, a computer -- which could have been the sole dominion of rocket scientists and programmers, nerds and spammers. These people who like things obtuse, I know, would have wanted to keep it that way.  

But Steve Jobs found a way to make technology cool.  And he did it through design, by making the hardware sleek and sexy.  He gave the computer its first human-ish behavior. It talked your language, it did things you asked it to, it responded in a friendly way.

The first start-up icons had a smile -- that's how you knew your computer was working.

As a friend of mine ammounced when I got my first Mac, "You're about to have a relationship with a computer."  And, boy, did I love that thing. (As you can see, I keep it with my other valued collectibles)

We Mac users would watch PC-users kick their desks and bang their keyboards trying to come up with the programming jargon that would make their machines perform.  We'd simply hit "open," or "print" or "search" and our little android friends would do our bidding. 

The PC-ers said we were lazy; we said they were dolts. Dolts that have to spend a fortune on anti-virus software -- only to get hacked in every way possible.

Polishing the Apple

Generation after generation, the new Apples would come up with features that  thrilled us with their ingenuity and wit. When i first got my wireless mouse that moves with just your finger, I felt like I had learned a magic trick.  It made me too clever to bear.

And all this in addition the whole music and phone and photo revolution.  Who didn't have a great big grin on their face when they saw the clarity of the first IPhone screen? Or learned that they activated their own cell phone on their  computer -- by themselves? 

And what about the game-changing Ipod: Oh, really, I don't have to listen to anything but the music I love played in the order I want it played? Nice knowing ya, radio stations! 

These were mind-blowing changes that gave control to those of us who felt we were losing control of so many things. Power to the people!

I have heard a lot of discussion about whether his accomplishments would earn Steve Jobs a place in the Inventors' Hall of Fame, alongside innovators like Thomas Edison and Henry Ford.  For me, there is no doubt. 

For his elegant, amazing eye -- for his passion about making technology meaningful -- for his endless stream of ideas that, by the way, I don't think could have come out of any other country -- my vote is "Aye."

RIP, old friend. 

 

 

Reality Check

You know what I DON"T need?  Updates on the stock market every 15 minutes. 

But that's exactly what I'm getting these days now that NPR has taken over my classical radio station 24 hours a day.

Don't get me wrong -- I LOOOOOVE NPR. I thought the prospect of nonstop listening to their ad-free, laid-back reporting 2was the best thing that ever happened to me. 

But this stock market thing is killing me.  Is that how we're measuring our lives these days?  And does "the largest drop since 2007" really qualify as news?

After several months of life on the Dow Jones roller-coaster, I've learned a few things:  a 200-point drop occurring at 11 am will very often be made up by 4 pm that same day. 

My blood pressure will have skyrocketed in anticipation of my life as a retiree surviving on a diet of cat food. I will opt out of purchasing some extra lemons. Then, by "All Things Considered" time the stock market will have reversed itself and  gone up . . . two points.

So then (in my head), I'm back at the Old Folks Home, playing the tambourine with the band. Phew! All that deep breathing (and food storage) wasn't even necessary.

Believe it or not, there was a time when today's stock prices didn't pass for news -- or conversation. I remember in th 90's when I first heard at a conference table, "What's our stock up to today?" Orgh?? Two months later company stocks became a form of entertainment -- people would check their 401Ks during lunch. 

My reaction was, shouldn't we all be worrying more about doing a good job than the funny money in our stock portfolios?  And isn't that what makes a stock go up -- a good company with good people doing good work?  Ha!  What a naive concept that turned out to be! 

A Hot Mess

This type of over-hyping, alarmist, reporting was rampant during the heat wave / drought / special form of hell we experienced this summer in Texas. 

Every day reporters -- mysteriously posted in alfalfa fields or on a freeway overpass -- would tell us we were breaking temperature records. 

Now, granted, some of the records were pretty impressive -- like the number of days without rain was the worst since 1950-something. 

But, really the heat-setting temps were set pretty recently, in the 1980's.  I was here for that summer, and honestly, I don't even remember it.

It got laughable when the weather people would say, "We're breaking 102 again today, folks, and we haven't had that warm an August 10th since 2009." Geez, does this qualify as news? 

What happened to perspective?  Let's set some standards here.  When, and only when, we are breaking records for our lifetimes do we need to get all, as the kids say, emo about the weather, the stock market, or the  price of corn. 

I don't need to hear the drumbeats of Armageddon when gas goes up higher than it has been in 16 months!

I don't know if we've just got a taste for drama these days, or whether this is just journalists trying to fill up the 24-hour news cycle, as they say. 

Personally my life is just not that exciting day-by-day, and I'm right here on earth with the rest of you.  For the sake of our sanity, our blood pressure and the prospect of a real calamity -- everybody, calm down!

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Seasons Change

The fact that fall is in the air -- even here in Texas -- deserves recognition.  Beyond Her's Quarter Notes tablets have a distinct design for each season.  Cute, yes, but guess what the colors turn out to do? Organize!  Maybe it's just us, but knowing I'm looking for the orange note, not the blue one, makes life just a little bit simpler!  3.5 x 5 inch tablets in a kraft box.  

On the Beyond Her website (click here)