Photo-Illustration: The Cut; Photos: Getty, Kerin Rose Gold
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There’s a joke on The Nanny where Fran says her mother always prayed that one day, Fran would be living in a big mansion with a handsome millionaire and wonderful kids. Its punchline was, “But she didn’t say married!”
The last year of my life has felt similar.
For almost two decades, I’ve been designing and selling eyewear and accessories through my brand, A-Morir. Through hard work, consistency, talent (ahem), and a little luck, I’ve found success as music’s go-to embellisher. Over the course of this career, I’ve designed pieces worn to the Met Gala and the VMAs and by Beyoncé on her Renaissance world tour; Rihanna referred to me as a friend and collaborator on MTV. But I’d be lying if I said there weren’t a small part of my brain hoping that one day, my designs would go beyond “IYKYK” and have a more substantial cultural impact.
Maybe I should have been more specific.
Last June, I launched a line of bedazzled Labubu-inspired bag charms, or, as A-Morir calls them, Lablingblings. They’re original artistic reinterpretations of those lovable furry little demons that we 3-D print and hand-crystallize in our New York studio. I don’t own a Labubu myself, but as a pop-culture obsessive, I was fascinated by their sudden ubiquity. Plus, I’d been toying with creating a bag charm for well over a year. The thought of creating a 3-D-printed and hand-crystallized functional art object out of something that had become so inescapable intrigued me. I saw it as half art experiment, half marketing exercise.
I launched my first Lablingbling to very little fanfare, if any. But then, by coincidence, Naomi Osaka’s creative director, Marty Harper, reached out to me about creating Osaka’s hair accessories for the U.S. Open. Not only is Osaka one of the best players on the court, but she also understands how an ensemble can tell a story. After I learned that Osaka’s Nike outfit would be crystallized, I suggested making a Lablingbling in her likeness to add to her look. I had no idea if she would be into the idea, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to try, so I got started creating it. I even found toy tennis racquets through one of my component suppliers, matched the color to hers, and figured out how to attach them to the 3-D-printed body (the first three were glued, but now they’re drilled in).
I delivered the inaugural red-and-purple Osaka-inspired tennis Lablingblings along with the two dozen red, purple, and pink rosette hair pieces and two pairs of headphones embellished to match at her request, then waited to see what would happen next. We called the red Lablingbling Billie Jean Bling. Osaka carried it onto the court, holding it up after her win and again during the press conference that followed. Initially I didn’t want to put them up for sale because I didn’t want to take advantage of Osaka — I’d made this one-of-kind piece just for her; would it be icky to sell it? — but I talked myself into it. In a world of Amazon dupes, I would have been a fool (a fool!) not to sell them. And then the orders came.
And came.
And came.
And then I had to figure out what the fuck to do next.
Osaka’s Lablingblings on their whirlwind trip through the U.S. Open. Clockwise from left: Photo: Robert Prange/Getty ImagesPhoto: KENA BETANCUR/AFP via Getty ImagesPhoto: Robert Prange/Getty Images
Osaka’s Lablingblings on their whirlwind trip through the U.S. Open. From top: Photo: Robert Prange/Getty ImagesPhoto: Robert Prange/Getty ImagesPhoto… more
Osaka’s Lablingblings on their whirlwind trip through the U.S. Open. From top: Photo: Robert Prange/Getty ImagesPhoto: Robert Prange/Getty ImagesPhoto: KENA BETANCUR/AFP via Getty Images
First came the terrifying math: I calculated that to fulfill these orders, we’d need roughly 460,000 crystals. That count quickly went up to over half a million, each of which would be meticulously applied by hand. (That means it would take over one million individual, intentional hand movements just to apply the crystals.) To meet the enthusiastic demand, my studio would need to produce a year’s worth of work in three months.
On the eve of the quarter finals I was at the opening of “TOYS! TOYS! TOYS!,” a group show about hyperconsumerism and postcapitalism at Spielzeug Gallery featuring two of my crystal sculptures, one of which was a nine-inch-tall crystal Lablingbling named Apex Predator, planned long before the U.S. Open. After the opening, I went straight to my studio to talk to the press as I created Osaka’s latest Lablingbling overnight.
Her team graciously gave me a pair of tickets to their suite for what turned out to be her final match of the tournament. I felt like an exposed nerve, but I couldn’t pass up this opportunity — and made sure to chain every single one of my Lablingblings to my purse before leaving the house, because it was their night too. The surreal moments kept coming. I got to meet the legendary Billie Jean King and give her the LaBillieBoo she inspired. Bowen Yang recognized me from a few hundred feet away (my orange hair was a dead giveaway) before sending over some treats and inviting me to his own suite for a hello.
In the weeks that followed, my adrenaline spiked so high that it felt like I was on a caffeine drip despite dropping my daily intake down from two strong cups of matcha to half a latte. I’d try to fall asleep using a Navy SEAL box-breathing technique yet would remain wide awake at 2 a.m. feeling the thumps of every heartbeat. I lost my appetite and my voice from interview after interview.
For the next few months, I barely touched a crystal during the day. I employed four full-time artists and invited back all of my former in-house artists to pick up all the hours they could handle. My role sharply shifted to office manager, production coordinator, supply purchaser, shipping manager, and customer-service representative. I sourced crystals (difficult at these volumes; our delivery straight from the European warehouse got stuck in customs and landed with a hefty tariff bill), vetted tristate-area 3-D-printing production partners, did P&L math on napkins over and over again, hopped on phone and video chats for at least three hours a day to discuss potential projects, and Jenga-d a schedule balancing our web orders, celebrity custom orders, and corporate-client customizations, none of which slowed down.
We ended up designing Lablingblings for a movie premiere, a Broadway show, and even the restaurant chain Chili’s. Photo: Kevin Mazur/Getty Images for Universal Pictures
We ended up designing Lablingblings for a movie premiere, a Broadway show, and even the restaurant chain Chili’s. Photo: Kevin Mazur/Getty Images for… more
We ended up designing Lablingblings for a movie premiere, a Broadway show, and even the restaurant chain Chili’s. Photo: Kevin Mazur/Getty Images for Universal Pictures
Between those first matches in late August and the Thanksgiving break, A-Morir produced and shipped over 700 handcrafted products. Despite every single product page informing customers that each piece is unique and made to order, I had to update my website with a disclaimer in a hideously bold red and all-caps font to let people know estimated production schedules. This irritated some folks, like the non-readers who contacted us after three days to ask why their order hadn’t shipped yet or the guy who emailed a full month after placing his order demanding a refund because “they’re no longer limited edition.” Hate to break it to you, dude, but these were never gonna flip on StockX.
I replied to every messages. To my surprise, most people were so lovely. I received unsolicited notes from customers delighted by the anticipation and telling me not to rush. People sharing tennis anecdotes and U.S. Open stories. People sharing how happy they were to surprise a loved one with an avatar of someone who means a lot to them.
Are there things I would have done differently? Absolutely. After all, we don’t learn from our wins. I would have saved time, money, and stress if I’d framed this as a preorder with an adjustable delivery window. I would have secured more customized packaging or branded-logo keychains. That may have also helped with the immense physical and emotional stress, which led to a terrible episode of vertigo and possibly a fistula. Experience and forethought would have allowed for a healthier work balance and less brutalization of my brain and body in the process.
But in a hurricane, all you can do is hold on.
I’d like to think that I did a pretty good job of not freaking out — some would call it disassociating! — but now that the dust has settled, what’s most important for me is expressing just how grateful I am for all of this, good and bad. Grateful that after nearly 18 years I was able to create something with such a large cultural footprint. Grateful that I received nothing but support, kindness, and respect from Naomi Osaka and her team, something that doesn’t always happen with clients despite being the easiest bar to clear. Grateful that the press about my work focused on my artistry and long history in the business instead of presenting it as a novelty and me as a one-hit-wonder hack. Grateful for the artists on my team who came to work every day with a positive, can-do attitude. Grateful to every single person who placed an order.
But one inevitable thing every viral trend shares?
An expiration date.
Your moment will always get replaced by the next one. I’m old enough to have lived through Beanie Babies and knew Lablingbling mania couldn’t last forever.
Of course, everyone who has ever watched an episode of Shark Tank asks me, “Was it worth it?” So often, independent brands blow up overnight only to crumble under the stress and pressure of scaling to meet the moment. I was keen on expanding only as needed, then being able to contract back to normal without affecting the livelihoods of my artists and production partners. I’m happy to say that I did.
From left: An army of Naomi Glowsakas getting ready for their racquets to be attached. Photo: Kerin Rose GoldA fleet of Lablingblings prepared for shipment. Photo: Kerin Rose Gold
From top: An army of Naomi Glowsakas getting ready for their racquets to be attached. Photo: Kerin Rose GoldA fleet of Lablingblings prepared for ship… more
From top: An army of Naomi Glowsakas getting ready for their racquets to be attached. Photo: Kerin Rose GoldA fleet of Lablingblings prepared for shipment. Photo: Kerin Rose Gold
A-Morir, my business, is an extension of my artistry. But the fact is that it’s a business, one that has existed for this long because it has largely been profitable. What started as my web store only became a full-time job once my earnings there outpaced my income elsewhere. I know what it’s like to go to work every day and hate it, and I (still) know what it’s like to be lowballed for your time, skill, and talent. So I work very hard to foster my relationships with the artists who come through my studio — in respect and in pay. When the workload went up, they were game to work longer hours in exchange for real American dollars. I price my items to reflect the hard work and well-honed skills of everyone involved and premium materials used to create the finished product. This isn’t my after-work hobby; it is my full-time business of nearly two decades. Not to mention I have ulcerative colitis, a chronic illness that has forced me to prioritize having a financial safety net. So yes, when my business does over a year’s worth of work in just over three months, we’re going to make an equivalent amount of profit.
I’m glad we had that windfall, because work has slowed down since last year and the change of pace has been jarring. Emotionally, it’s like that feeling in your legs when you go from running as fast as you possibly can on a treadmill back to walking on ground. And after being so busy for so long, there’s a part of me that feels lost by comparison, too.
During the height of my Labubu mania, I developed a fistula; I have had two surgeries for it this year and will likely need two more. Surgery and recovery are a bear, and my physical and mental bandwidths are operating at a deficit. After extensive testing, there’s been no determination as to why I developed a fistula, but my inkling is it was stress related. I have no interest in moralizing about whether the crushing stress of Lablingbling production caused the malady, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility. While my ego may scream otherwise, having a quiet year to take care of my body and experience better work-life balance is probably for the best.
That isn’t to say I didn’t try to ride this dragon a bit longer. I had a lot of fun designing a Coachella-timed collaboration with Dixie D’Amelio and Crocs that dropped in March. Some other promising collaboration requests that came in at the height of the phenomenon have since fizzled, like a ski-themed Lablingbling inspired by Lindsey Vonn; I couldn’t in good conscience draft a press release to sell something I designed for an athlete on the verge of getting her leg amputated. But the best part has been being able to fund projects that were in motion long before the U.S. Open, like Handle With Care, my 3-D crystal eyewear capsule, and my first ready-to-wear sunglass line, CHIBI, which debuted at Eyewear Design Week in March. The design took me two years to develop, and I was able to cover the five-figure production cost in its entirety last year thanks to my Lablingbling sales. That and purchasing the trademark to the term Lablingbling were my two “gifts” to myself last year.
Recently, a businessperson I admire told me they write out their goals, saying that even if they don’t achieve them, doing so subconsciously steers their energy in that direction. Ultimately, this last year reminds me that what I love most about my career is not increased fame or fees (though I won’t say “no” to either!) but doing the work itself: creating the unexpected, sharing beauty and joy with others by making art with my hands. So long as I can focus on that (and maybe write it down every once in a while), I’ll stay trusting that rewards will follow.
Hey, it worked out for Fran …
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