When I left Corporate America in 1989 to launch my entrepreneurial adventure, Dunitz & Company, I was initially focused on building a business that offered beautiful goods for home decor. I’ve always had an innate knack for creating inviting spaces—so much so that my brother has always insisted I could have (or should have) been an interior designer. Armed with that design instinct, very little industry knowledge, and an immense amount of unfounded confidence, I jumped in.
I quickly learned a hard truth: it is relatively easy to manage a budget for a multi-million-dollar corporation, but it is nearly impossible to forecast a scrappy, hip-shooting small operation. My early venture into home accessories was not the easiest path, and looking back, there are wild experiences and sharp learning curves I have never written about until now—crises that very easily could have closed the door on my startup for good.
As a small business owner, sometimes you simply have to do whatever it takes to survive. Anyone building a venture needs to know that the road is paved with trials and tribulations. To dig yourself out of dicey situations, you have to be creative, innovative, and downright determined.Take, for instance, my early saga with a major pillow order.
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| High Point Market, April 1992. Original Guatemalan pillows (and yes, stirrup pants). |
A Chance Taken in Guatemala
In the early 1990s, Guatemala was still in the midst of a civil war. I had hired a driver named Ray who knew the country intimately and introduced me to various artisan villages. During our trips, we frequented a few cafes where expats regularly hung out, and where local artisans would often come around—sometimes quite aggressively from the street—soliciting work. It was there that a young man named Pedro approached me.
In the early 1990s, Guatemala was still in the midst of a civil war. I had hired a driver named Ray who knew the country intimately and introduced me to various artisan villages. During our trips, we frequented a few cafes where expats regularly hung out, and where local artisans would often come around—sometimes quite aggressively from the street—soliciting work. It was there that a young man named Pedro approached me.
Ray mentioned that Pedro had struggled with substance abuse but seemed to have turned his life around. Everyone begged me to give him a chance, so I did. Pedro wasn't a seamster himself; instead, he acted as a coordinator who orchestrated having the actual sewing done. I started him with a couple of small projects, which he managed beautifully. For example, I purchased hand-woven fabric in four distinct colorways and asked him to have them finished with plain black woven fabric on the back, insert zippers, and have them sewn into pillow covers. He did a flawless job. After successfully completing two or three of these projects, he was so incredibly grateful for the steady income that he even named his newborn baby Nancy. Can you imagine?
Because I was only traveling to Guatemala once a month, I hired a woman named Anita—a local Guatemalan who had married the school chum of my friend's brother back in the States—to collect and quality-check the finished goods in my absence for a fee. Aside from inspecting Pedro's shipments, Anita also oversaw and managed production for a few of her own separate pillow projects that I commissioned and paid her for.
The CARE Catalog Opportunity
Meeting a buyer from CARE (Cooperative for Assistance and Relief Everywhere) at a wholesale trade show was an unbelievably good break for my young business. At the time, the famous relief organization ran a short-lived mail-order catalog, and they placed a major order for my ikat-style pillows. I offered them in four colorways: predominantly Red, Blue, Green, and Pink.
CARE ordered a large batch of what they thought were the Red and Blue versions. Then came Learning Lesson One: always verify everything with photos.
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| Woven pillow covers in blue, green, and red. CARE received stuffed versions in blue and red. |
Due to a communication mix-up across photo exchanges, CARE had actually intended to order the Green and Pink versions (the green had hints of blue, and the pink had hints of red). Meanwhile, the Blue fabric I had produced was vibrant blue, and my Red was deep red. Because production had already started and all of the materials had already been purchased, CARE was incredibly gracious. They looked at the vibrant red and blue fabrics and agreed they would work just fine. Crisis averted—or so I thought.
The 100-Pillow Disaster
Pedro went to work having the order made, and Anita eventually shipped the finished goods to me alongside other products. However, it quickly became clear that Anita had never actually inspected them. To make matters worse, Ray later informed me that Pedro had suffered a severe relapse, had been seen sleeping on the street, and had completely vanished.
The 100-Pillow Disaster
Pedro went to work having the order made, and Anita eventually shipped the finished goods to me alongside other products. However, it quickly became clear that Anita had never actually inspected them. To make matters worse, Ray later informed me that Pedro had suffered a severe relapse, had been seen sleeping on the street, and had completely vanished.
When I opened the shipment, I was horrified. I was left with 100 pillows—50 red and 50 blue—that were completely botched, badly sewn, and literally popping at the seams.
With a hard deadline looming to stuff and deliver this major order to CARE, I was desperate. I mentioned my predicament to a former colleague from my days working at MGM/UA. In a stroke of absolute luck, he told me his former banking colleague had sisters who had just immigrated from Vietnam. They didn't speak English yet, but they were masterful seamstresses living just 40 minutes away.
We struck a deal. They repaired all 100 pillow covers flawlessly. Until now, no one ever knew that secret. CARE got their order, and Dunitz & Company got paid.
Turning Disaster into Opportunity
That chaotic experience sparked a brand new idea. I now had a direct relationship with incredibly talented local seamstresses who could handle much more complex designs than what I was importing.
While Anita began inspecting our Guatemalan fabric imports much more carefully, I used my new US-based sewing team to launch a mid-range decorative pillow line using domestic fabrics. We created pillows featuring cowboy motifs, fish designs, and everything in between.
For a couple of years, This End Up furniture company ordered our decorative pillows to stage the ready-to-assemble, "put-together" furniture (similar to what IKEA sells today) featured in their 200 retail stores nationwide. It was a phenomenal piece of business that actually secured me the down payment for my first home.
Eventually, that account dried up, and I learned another valuable lesson: the mid-range market is incredibly tough. Retailers either wanted cheap Chinese imports or ultra-high-end art pillows; the middle ground barely existed. As for the wonderful Vietnamese seamstresses? They used that stepping stone to transition into pharmacy school and higher education. We were a true blessing to each other at a pivotal time.
Navigating the Road Ahead
It was actually the hard-won lessons from this home accessories era that later led me to cross paths with an American woman and a German woman. Operating two completely separate businesses, they were the ones who first taught Mayan women how to bead—a craft that is not indigenous to Guatemala. (Sadly, the German woman passed away a few years ago). Dunitz & Company was one of the very first to collaborate with these women and the artisans they'd taught to bring beaded designs to the United States.
Realizing that fashion accessories were a much better fit for my vision, I eventually shifted directions entirely. Today, Dunitz & Company thrives by offering the fair-trade jewelry that you all know and expect from me. I hope knowing I survived a 100-pillow disaster gives you the encouragement to face your own trials, pivot when necessary, and keep moving forward. -ND
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| A sampling of the fair-trade jewelry offered by Dunitz & Company today. |
If you want to read my original blog posts from 2023, here are the links:
